Returning to Thailand

I don’t usually get this personal here, but since I recently mentioned my ordeal, I thought I’d give you the full story, if you want to read it.

Note: I wrote this mostly for others trying to return to Thailand, so there is a lot of technical detail.

I am a German national living and working in Chiang Mai, Thailand since 2012 with a valid work permit. Married to a Thai-American dual citizen since 2009 with two kids. Here is my story of returning to Thailand during the pandemic.

March 2020: My family and I are visiting my wife’s mother in the US, as we do every year. We always go to the US in March because Chiang Mai’s air quality is atrocious at this time of year. We decided not to cancel our trip due to the developing pandemic because we considered the health risk of extreme air pollution to be greater than the increased COVID-19 exposure risk of international travel. I still stand by that assessment, despite what followed.

March 11: The WHO declares the COVID-19 outbreak a pandemic.

March 16: Seeing the writing on the wall, I contact my web guy and start preparing my website to allow me to teach online on a subscription basis.

March 21: We decide to return to Thailand early due to the tightening restrictions. My wife and kids get return permission from the embassy in DC via email, I get my COVID-19 health insurance, and we all get our fit to fly letters. I cannot get a COVID-19 test in the US at this time without symptoms no matter how hard I try. At the time, the Thai regulations are conflicting as to whether such a test result is required.

March 24: We leave JFK for CNX via DOH and BKK. No problems getting onto the first two flights, though multiple agents triple-check our documents for about 30 minutes at JFK.

March 25: Upon arrival at BKK, I am sent back to JFK while my wife and sons (all Thai passport holders) are sent on to Chiang Mai. I am sent back because I do not have a COVID-19 test result. At midnight Mar 25, while I am waiting for my 3 am return flight, the test result requirement is dropped for work permit holders (I am not aware of this change until Mar 27). Nonetheless, I am put on a plane back to JFK on Mar 26.

March 27: Having found out that I no longer need an (unobtainable) COVID-19 test, I buy another JFK-CNX ticket for the following day. I try hiring lawyers both in Bangkok and Chiang Mai to help me enforce the new rules. While the new rules forbid entry for most foreigners, they have actually eased the requirements for work permit holders. The lawyers tell me there is nothing they can do if Thai government agencies aren’t following  published Thai government regulations. I get in touch with everyone I know who MIGHT know someone in the relevant Thai agencies. No dice.

March 28: I try to check in at JFK, but am denied boarding after the airline personnel claims to have been told by CNX immigration not to let me board because I do not have a COVID-19 test. My polite request to show me where it says I need a COVID-19 test in the official Thai regulations is politely ignored. Next to me a white man and Asian woman are checking in to the same JFK-DOH flight. “Traveling to Manila?” the agent asks the guy. “Yes.” “Ok, all I need to see is a copy of your marriage certificate.” Sigh.

My brother in law drives me back to my mother in law’s house in New Jersey and I prepare to hunker down a half hour from the new epicenter of the pandemic, New York City. The first thing I do is order another headset microphone, two video lights, and light stands. Microphones are increasingly hard to find. Most of the equipment I bought for teaching yoga online the week before (microphones, lights, light stands) ended up in Chiang Mai with my family because my name didn’t end up on the bag containing all that equipment. Getting separated and me getting sent back to the US from Bangkok didn’t even occur to us as a possibility.

March 30: I teach my first ever yoga class online, from my mother in law’s freezing basement. Little do I know that I will still be teaching from that basement in mid June, by which time it is wonderfully cool. Thank you, Vanida, for your hospitality!

Our Thai health insurance does not cover medical expenses in the US, so we buy travel health insurance every time we go. My travel insurance is expiring in mid-April when we were originally scheduled to fly home. I try to extend it, and am told I can only do that in person, in Thailand. I try to buy a new policy in Thailand, and am told I can only do that in person, in Thailand.

I do not relish the thought of spending weeks or months at the epicenter of the pandemic without health insurance, with the remote but real possibility of an outrageous hospital bill I would have to pay myself. I try to buy travel health insurance in Germany. No dice, as I am no longer registered as residing in Germany. I finally am able to get onto Obamacare. Despite the nightmares I have heard about the backlog caused by millions of newly unemployed trying to get onto Obamacare, it ends up being a relatively painless process. While the website isn’t working right, the phone support is competent and friendly and gets it done. What a huge relief. There is one wrinkle, though. As I am legally a resident of Ithaca, New York, I do not have coverage in New Jersey, where I am hunkered down. I have the good sense to check the areas of coverage for the 3 possible policies I can sign up for, and find out, only by calling the insurance companies directly, that two of them are restricted to far upstate New York, around Ithaca. In other words, if I get sick, I would have to endure a 4 hour bus ride and potentially infect dozens of people in order to receive health care. The third policy covers all of NY state, which means the nearest facilities are only a 20 minute drive from my mother in law’s house. I choose that one. My yoga teacher income is so low that I actually qualify for the free healthcare option. Apparently I fall well below the poverty line in the US.

April: My 80 year old mother is diagnosed with late stage skin cancer and asks me to visit her in Germany.

June 5: I contact the embassy in Washington, DC about a Certificate of Entry (CoE) which is now mandatory for returning to Thailand. No reply.

June 8: I contact the embassy in Berlin through their website contact form about a CoE. I also contact the embassy in DC again, stating that I am not only a German national but a US resident.

June 9: I receive a short note from DC with a link to their website for applying for a CoE. The link points to a visa application page, not a CoE application. Completely different. The same day I receive a detailed email from Berlin on how to proceed. The instructions explain what I need to apply for the CoE, and what I need at the airport. Neither list includes a requirement for a COVID-19 test.

Surmising that I may have better chances of receiving a CoE from Berlin, and wanting to see my mother, possibly for the last time, I decide to go to Germany to apply from there. I email the Berlin embassy double-checking that I do not need a COVID-19 test.

June 10: The Berlin embassy confirms that at that moment in time I do not need a test. I start researching and getting the documents together for the CoE application. Over the next few weeks, the Berlin embassy always get back to me within one business day at the latest.

June 16: I inquire and am told by Berlin that the health insurance has to be valid for one year minimum.

June 18: I fly from the US to Germany on Delta. Direct flights to Frankfurt or Amsterdam are more than double the price of flights requiring a stopover. I could have flown to Amsterdam for $1600 round trip, or, by adding an Amsterdam-Frankfurt leg, slashed the price in half. I end up flying via Atlanta because I can leave from Newark instead of JFK. On both flights every other seat is unoccupied following physical distancing rules. The Atlanta airport is packed, and very few people there are wearing face masks. I am guessing fewer than 20%.

June 22: I inquire and am told by Berlin that the health insurance cannot have a deductible. I also ask for and receive confirmation that the requirements given to me on Jun 9 have not changed.

June 23: I ask whether I can join a repatriation flight and am told that if the flight ban is extended into July, then yes. I am also told that places on the flight are allocated according to urgency.

June 24: My wife sends a letter (in Thai) to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA) describing my case.

June 26: I submit my CoE application via email to the MFA and to the Berlin Embassy. As requested, it includes electronic copies of the application form, my passport, my work permit, COVID-19 test result, and proof of insurance, and (my wife’s) justification of urgency letter.

June 29: I receive a phone call from the Berlin embassy stating that my CoE has been granted, and to wait for an email. I am asked whether I want to join a repatriation flight on July 3. I say yes, yes, yes. Having received no email confirmation by end of day, I email the embassy.

June 30: Still no email confirmation. I call the embassy and cannot get through. Their “on hold” music is the first few bars of Beethoven’s “Für Elise”. Over and over. And over. It literally sounds like a recording of an electronic Hallmark card whose battery is about to croak. I am not exaggerating. I am listening to the state of the art in voicemail from 1982.

Later, the embassy calls me to say that they need additional documents before they can issue the CoE, specifically my Alternative State Quarantine (ASQ) booking. I am also told that I need to apply for a new visa as my non-immigrant visa will expire while I will be in ASQ. I am also told that I need another COVID-19 test and fit to fly certificate to join the repatriation flight on July 3. I am told I will not be able to book the flight until I have been issued the CoE. I am told that I will have to pick up the CoE in person in Berlin (or send a courier), probably the day before the flight from Frankfurt. I am in Bremen at my mom’s, 4 hours away.

I email all but the 2 most expensive ASQ hotels inquiring about room size and internet speed. (I need to be able to livestream my yoga classes from quarantine, as teaching online yoga classes has become my main source of income.) I hear back from exactly two hotels.

I rent a car in Bremen to drop off at Frankfurt airport on July 3. On my way to pick up the car, I look over the rental agreement and see that it says “Return the car to Bremen”. I KNOW I put Frankfurt airport in the return location field. I know this for a fact. I call the agency. The agent says: “No problem, it’s just another 50 Euros.” Fine. Then she says: “When are you getting here? We close at 16:00”, My rental is for 16:00. My ETA is 16:13. Their opening hours are listed nowhere on the contract. I say, can you wait till 16:10? She says, yes, but absolutely no later. I tell my 83 year old dad, who had open heart surgery in February, to step on it. He steps on it. There is no parking in front of the agency. As my dad slows due to traffic, I literally leap from the rolling car and get to the rental car agency front door at 16:12. They let me in.

When I start the car after the agent has gone home, I notice that the tank is not even 7/8 full when the agent said it was full. I decide that this is so far down the list of priorities I am not even going to complain.

Later I make an appointment for a COVID-19 test for July 1, and for a Fit to Fly letter for July 2, both with my mom’s doctor. I cook dinner for my mom and niece, who is also visiting her, and we reminisce while looking at old photos.

July 1: I book my ASQ. I choose the one with bigger (but shabbier) rooms to have enough space for live-streaming yoga classes. I notice that the hotel website shows wall to wall carpets in the rooms, and remember reading somewhere that the quarantine hotel rooms must have uncarpeted floors. I decide that this is for someone else to worry about. I submit proof of ASQ booking via email to the Berlin embassy and to the MFA. I visit the doctor for the swab test, and then deliver the sealed test myself to the lab to speed things up at the suggestion of the doctor. Feeling rather good about my progress.

July 2: I take my niece to the train station. I pick up the test result from the lab myself to speed things up. Negative. I have my fit to fly exam. I find out that my mom’s doctor does not have an official physician’s number. I decide that a fit to fly letter from him will be rejected, and that I am better off getting another appointment with a different doctor, either in Berlin, or Frankfurt, or somewhere along the way. I still have most of Thursday and most of Friday to do this (or so I think). I call my sister in law, who lives between Berlin and Frankfurt and where I am planning on crashing that night. I ask her to call her doctors for an appointment for me.

I start driving towards Berlin to pick up my CoE. I receive a call from the embassy while halfway to Berlin: They are still waiting for my fit to fly letter and second COVID-19 test before they can issue the CoE. This is the first I hear of this. I pull over. I kick a guard rail repeatedly, and my rental car. (Tires only. It’s not like I don’t have self control.) I had been told I needed those documents for check-in at the airport, NOT for the CoE. I am told this is incorrect.

I tell the embassy I had a fit to fly appointment that morning but that the doctor doesn’t have a doctor’s number. (The sample the embassy mailed me has a place for a doctor’s number.) I have no idea why he doesn’t have one, or even what that means. He is a member of Bremen’s physicians’ association. He is a hematologist and an oncologist. How can he not have a doctor’s number?!? I am told the fit to fly doesn’t need to include a doctor’s number. I call my mom’s doctor so he can email me the #$@%& fit to fly letter I stupidly rejected. He doesn’t answer his phone. I email him. He doesn’t answer his email. (He doesn’t actually have email. He uses his wife’s Asian antiques business’ email address.) I call my mom and tell her to keep calling him every few minutes. She doesn’t think he will know how to send a fit to fly letter via email even if she gets through to him.

She may be right. He is seriously old-school. Looks like a European Confucius with his bald head, white wispy beard and Mandarin-collared shirt, sitting in his twelve-foot-ceilinged office surrounded by priceless Asian antiques. Super nice guy. We chatted about a beautiful old hotel he stayed at in Chiang Mai (The Ratchamanka). Best hotel he’s ever stayed at anywhere, he said.

I start calling random doctors near me gleaned from Google Maps. It’s hot and muggy and there is no shade and I am sweating. All the doctor’s offices I call are fully booked and not particularly sympathetic. One of them tells me to try in Berlin. I get a message from my sister in law that one of her doctors is fully booked on Friday but has time today, and the other’s phone has been busy all day. I get through to my sister in law’s second doctor’s receptionist. I explain what I need. She says I should drop of an example of a fit to fly letter, and she will ask the doctor if she can see me tomorrow. I tell her I can’t drop it off as I am in Berlin at the moment. I say “Why don’t I email it to you?” She says: “We don’t have email.” I say nothing. She says to call back later. I hang up. I consider kicking the car again.

I keep driving. I pull over an hour later to check my email. Miraculously, my mother’s doctor has come through with the worst photograph of a signed piece of paper, ever. I forward it to the embassy and the MFA. I keep driving, with all my fingers crossed…

I get to the embassy at 15:00. They say the fit to fly is fine and my CoE is ready, and take my visa application and 70 Euros. 10 minutes later I have my CoE, my new visa, and a secret Lufthansa phone number I need to call to buy my plane ticket. It’s like getting an invite to an underground dance club.

Not having eaten since 8:00, I head across the street to an Indian restaurant. I order food and call Lufthansa. I get an automated answer and am put on hold. The “on hold” music is at least 1990s quality. The call gets dropped. I call back, wait on hold, get dropped. Over and over. Finally I get through. I am told economy is full. Pause. I am mentally preparing myself for business class prices. “But,” he says, “there are seats in premium economy for 1080 Euros.” I say “I’ll take it” as fast as anyone can say “I’ll take it.” I give him my credit card number. Typing at the other end, pregnant pause. My credit card declines the charge…

I try a different card. Typing at the other end, pregnant pause, success!

I eat my lunch/dinner, and get back on the bloody road for another 4 hour drive. I start falling asleep at the wheel around 7pm. I pull over at a rest-stop, take a 30 minute nap. I buy an ice cream for the sugar rush. I thank the powers that be for RadioLab and This American Life podcasts. Today I learned all there is to know about gonads (really), and hear the story of a female Native American ex-convict private investigator who solves missing person cases.

I pass a gnarly accident on the other side of the Autobahn, followed by many kilometers of traffic jam. I thank my lucky star I am not traveling in the opposite direction. I get to my sister in law’s, have dinner, do laundry, watch a Sherlock episode with her, check in to my flight at 23:00. This has been the most stressful day of my life.

July 3: I photoshop my fit to fly letter. Don’t worry, nothing fishy. It’s just so underexposed as to appear almost black, even though it was printed on white paper. I print out all my paper work, pack my bags, and drive to the airport. I fill up the car’s tank all the way, right by the airport. I am not going to have an argument about the fuel level.

I arrive at the airport 6 hours before the flight. I am not missing this flight. I drop off my bags right at 19:00, exactly 3 hours before the flight, which is usually the earliest bag drop. There is no-one in line. Bag drop is completely uneventful. Except I am told I haven’t checked in. I tell them I have. I tell them I even changed my seat. The agent figures out that all the information I entered was thrown out because I didn’t enter a Thai passport number. Oh well. He changes my seat to an aisle seat per my request. He barely checks my papers, but he does call someone to make sure my name has been cleared for the flight. He does ask about lithium batteries in my checked luggage. I say there is a beard trimmer in there. He says “lithium?” I say “How would I know.” I open the bag. I look for the trimmer. I can’t find it. I tell him it’s old. (It’s not. It’s brand new. My old one flew to Chiang Mai in March.) He says, “Oh, then it’s not lithium.” He flips the bag on its side to attach the luggage tag. The bag starts vibrating. I think of the “vibrating object in luggage” scene in Fight Club. I remove “the” trimmer (not “my” trimmer) from my checked bag and put it in my carry-on.

I get to the gate. It is already packed with Thais and the flight isn’t for another 2.5 hours. I have no idea when they all checked in. Every other seat in the boarding area is taped off for physical distancing, and all the remaining seats are taken, so I take a seat by the next gate.

Boarding is completely uneventful. We merely scan our own boarding passes and walk through automatic gates. No temperature checks. No passport required. The flight is pretty packed. Every single economy seat is occupied (no physical distancing), and all but 2 seats in premium economy. Business class appears empty.

The flight is uneventful. Lufthansa premium economy is nice. I could get used this. More legroom, wider seats, increased reclining, and trays come out of the (dual, oversized) armrest instead of being attached to the seat in front, meaning stuff on the tray doesn’t get crushed when the person in front of you suddenly reclines their seat. Food is better, too. Steel cutlery, porcelain dishes, stemware made out of real glass. I actually would prefer nice reusable plastic because of the fuel savings. The wine glass goes unused anyway since they serve the drinks before the food, and the wine glass is delivered on the food tray, long after I have drunk the wine. Somebody didn’t think this through.

July 4: My 11th wedding anniversary. We land at BKK. Getting back to Chiang Mai would have been one hell of an anniversary present. But at least I am on my way now, and the biggest hurdle is behind me. We are told to stay seated on the plane. We are called by name to disembark. My name is checked off a list and I get an ASQ name tag. I wait for all the ASQ passengers (half of them Thai) to disembark, then all of us are guided down one side of the hall, while the Thai citizens going to state quarantine are guided down the other, in between two rows of chairs, 2 meters apart. We sit on the chairs as a team of officials in full protective gear descend on us and check our paper work. I am told which paper work to put away and which pieces to keep handy. One by one we are told to proceed to a row of counters nearby to have our papers checked again and our CoEs confiscated (I take a photo first, just in case). Everyone is very polite.

The ASQ passengers are sent to another double row of chairs to wait for the whole group to finish. One row of chairs for the farang, one for the Thais who have opted to pay for their own quarantine, presumably so they don’t have to share a room with a stranger. Once the farang are all together (about 15 of us), we are lead through the airport to immigration. Immigration wants to see my CoE. Oops. I show them the photo I took. Immigration takes a good long while. I am starting to worry. They apologize, twice, for the delay. The fingerprint scanners they installed last year are taped over and not in use. Corona risk.

I make it through, pick up my bags, wait again for all the other farang to catch up. Then we are shuttled through customs and emerge from the building. We push our luggage carts towards another platoon of people in protective gear. We are told to stand back. Our bags are sprayed with disinfectant. We proceed to another row of people, without protective gear, who wave hotel and name signs. The minivan drivers. I find mine and load my luggage. I am the only one going to The Royal Benja. The driver’s compartment is separated from the rest of the van with clear vinyl sheeting.

I enter the hotel lobby. I am issued slippers and my shoes are put in a plastic bag. I am told to sit at one of a row of low desks with clear acrylic shields. I am given my card key and wifi log-in. A nurse approaches in full protective gear. She takes my temperature and blood pressure. My blood pressure is far higher than it has ever been. She asks me to step outside the hotel for the 3rd of 5 corona tests I will be taking over 3 weeks. No, one does not get used to the unpleasantness of it. Interestingly, only the eye on the side of the prodded nostril waters profusely.

I am taken to the elevators, and the correct floor button is pushed, but I am left to ride the elevator by myself. I find my room. My luggage arrives minutes later.

The room is big and the furniture is not bolted down, which means I will have plenty of room to teach yoga. I log in and check the internet speed: 75/50Mbps download/upload. Excellent.

The bell rings. Someone wants me to sign a list of rules governing when I might be sent to to the hospital, and when the other tests will be conducted (day 3 and 12). The paper also states that if I test negative (for the forth time) on day 3, I can start using the pool for one hour a day starting day 4. Until then I am not allowed to leave my room under any circumstances short of a building fire or a medical emergency.

The floor is fake wood-print vinyl. It’s rather squishy. It takes me a while to figure out what they have done: They have covered their wall-to-wall carpet with vinyl to comply with the quarantine rules. Thai ingenuity. It’s actually pretty well done, except for the packing tape strip down the middle of the room holding together two swaths of vinyl flooring.

The decor is dated and somehow mildly depressing, but everything is functional. The shower is fully enclosed, there is a separate bath tub, and both water pressure and temperature go all the way to ridiculous mode. All the plumbing works, though the edges of the faucets have been polished down to the brass. This is an old hotel, by Bangkok standards, and it has never been renovated.

There is a water kettle. There is no tea or coffee. That’s okay. Hotel tea and coffee is usually undrinkable, anyway. I brought a few bags of nice tea from Germany as well as some dark chocolate and nuts.

The room is fully stocked with multiples of everything. 4 bath towels, 6 bottles of shampoo, 12 bottles of water. Several trash bags, in red and black. Red for infectious waste. Clearly no-one else is entering this room for the next two weeks.

Dinner arrives. It’s worse than I feared. If I had any choice, I would not be eating a single meal in this hotel. On the other hand, this is again such a minor quibble in the grand scheme of things that I can’t be bothered to even get upset over it. At worst I will be fasting for two weeks. More likely I will eat most of the crap food, anyway. Each day we get to choose from among 2 or 3 options for each meal, both “Western” and Thai. For the first day they chose for me, and of course they chose the “Western” option. Crab stick, little squid “porcupines” and shrimp covered with (I think) melted cheese, with a few peas and carrot cubes, served with garlic bread. Here is hoping that the Thai food, which I will be ordering from now on, will be better. At least there is fresh fruit with every meal.

July 5: I slept extremely well. The pseudo-American breakfast is as disappointing as dinner, though the coffee is drinkable. Lunch is Westernized Thai food, but it’s better than the Western food. Ketchup fried rice with raisins, fried chicken, fried egg, and yet another wiener and ham slice. Dessert is real Thai food, and by far the best thing so far. Taro in coconut milk. Got to wrap this up so I can set up my yoga recording studio and get this show on the road.

PS: If you are looking for excellent and affordable ($5-10 per month) online yoga classes, check out my subscription options. Start with a free 7 day trial by going here. Thank you for you support!