A step-by-step guide to navigating Vietnam if you find yourself in the country illegally accidentally
31 December 2025
Ava Vu
A step-by-step guide to navigating Vietnam if you find yourself in the country illegally accidentally
If you’re reading this guide, it’s probably because you’ve entered Vietnam on an eVisa that expired within fifteen minutes of entering the country. This means you are currently in Vietnam illegally as you are overstaying your visa. You may be confused, panicked, and scared for your future in the country. Do not fear. As long as you follow my easy nine step guide, you will be up and ready to resume your holiday in no time!
This may sound farfetched, but it has happened at least once. This how-to guide is up to date as of December 2025.
The first step is to realise something might have gone wrong. There won’t be any signs right away. You would have been able to leave Australia – handing your printed out eVisa to airport staff along the way – all without issue. The first real sign will be at Immigration at Saigon’s international airport.
You would have waited in a long queue with both tourists and Vietnamese nationals. After that long queue, there would have been a second set of 8 queues that you can freely pick to line up. Why it is organised this way is unknowable. Pick a line, maybe one on the end where less people are, and wait. Try and pass by cracking some jokes with your travel companions. The immigration official in the booth would have taken your passport and eVisa, and looked you up and down. People at Vietnam’s busiest airport speak less English than you would imagine.
She would have gestured to an office and told you to get a stamp. You might have asked for clarification and found it unhelpful. Assuming it’s no big deal, you would have climbed under the rope barriers and headed toward a sign labelled ‘Apply for visa’. This is likely where you made your first mistake: you are now split up from your friends.
You found a counter and slid your passport and eVisa underneath some plexiglass. It wouldn’t have been clear what you’re meant to ask for. He would have taken your passport and sauntered over to a small stack of passports that all have printed out eVisas stuck into them. He would have flipped through them. You would have had no idea what he was doing. Eventually he stamps and scribbles something on to the eVisa. He would have beckoned you to the end of the office, where he exited through an employee only door. He pointed to somewhere on the page.
“Apply” is what you would have heard him say.
“Apply for a new visa?” you might have replied.
“No.” You misheard him. He said: “hurry.” He’d pointed to the top of the page where it lists the date of this visa will expire: November 30th. It was November 30th, 10:30pm. Your visa was going to expire at midnight.
Even if it was 10:30, you had assumed lining up couldn’t take longer than 90 minutes. It might be at this point that one would realise that they don’t really understand how visas work. You had made the assumption that once you are in through immigration, things will be okay. It is with this unconscious assumption you lined up without further protestation or investigation.
If you didn’t have an internet connection, your friends would have been in the dark about what exactly was happening. But you assumed once you were through Immigration, things will be okay. This was likely your second mistake.
Frantically watching the clock, but also accepting there is nothing you can do about a long line, you waited. It was approaching 11:40pm, but you made it to the front of the line with the same immigration officer who originally sent you off. She takes your paperwork. You likely felt a mixture of queasiness, anxiety, and anger. She asked how long you would be in Vietnam. You half played dumb, and were half actually dumb. You were still assuming you just needed to make it through immigration.
“Three weeks,” you said. She looked confused.
“One day,” she replied. You were genuinely confused.
“I’m in Vietnam for three weeks.” She asked why. “A holiday,” you might have replied. You would have been so nervous you felt lightheaded.
She would have given you a look that you might have at the time read as sympathy—especially if she was the same immigration official that first sent you away to get a stamp. Eventually, she stamped your passport and waved you through. You would have foolishly breathed a sigh of relief.
In hindsight you will come to recognise this look was something else—a look often seen on the individual faces of a bureaucracy: “Well, it’s not my problem.”
After you reunited with your friends, and gave them a genuine apology for making them wait, you would have assumed you were in the clear. You might have even said you would explain what just happened once you get in the taxi to the hotel.
It was probably a friend who was well-travelled to first alert you to how serious things were. She would have asked for your passport, and would have found the page with your visa stamp. The entry date is November 30th, and the exit date is November 30th.
“We’ll sort it out tomorrow.”
You might arrive at the hotel. The hotel receptionist would have asked for your passports. Your friends would have checked in. When he got to yours, he would have said he can’t let you in. It’s now 12:15am, and he can’t let people check in if they’ve overstayed their visa.
This is when real panic set in.
If your reading this at 12:15am in a hotel in Vietnam, this is probably sounding all too familiar. Believe it or not, I was actually in a situation similar to this recently. You’re probably feeling a complicated set of emotions, but it’s important that you remain calm.
There’s a few things you might have already tried that didn’t work.
The east coast of Australia is four hours ahead of Vietnam, and while this was all happening the early risers back home are probably starting to grow concerned. You might have had a message from your father that read, “Text me when you check in to the hotel,” an event which hasn’t yet occurred. He might now have texted you, “How’s Vietnam?” In may feel inopportune to lie to your father, so concoct a reply that maintains the the truth:
“It’s like nothing else.”
Your plan right now should be extending the Vietnamese tourist visa that you arrived in on. The Australian Consulate in Saigon seems logical, but that won’t open until the morning. There’s a chance that, if this is a quick fix, Immigration at Saigon airport seems like it would work. Get a 2am taxi there.
You might decide it’s unfair for your friends to stay up with you to try and solve this. They can retreat to their rooms, but they won’t sleep well worrying about you.
At Saigon airport, there is the large open foyer before security. Immigration is tucked away to the left. There should be a man at the desk. You can try ask him to help you, but he will only reply to come back at 7. You can ask if he will be able to help you at 7, but he will not give you a straight answer. This will be your sign that he cannot help you, but if you are tired in the moment – and stubborn always – you will want to try again at 7. It is now 2:30am. You count at least three people sleeping with their suitcases in this part of the airport. You find a set of chairs near a powerpoint, and plug in your phone. You will have no eye mask and no blanket. You will place your head on the seat, and look up at the high ceiling of the airport.
Despite your exhaustion, you won’t get more than three hours of sleep.
It would also be a good idea at this point to contact your father and explain exactly what is happening. He might surprise you and not be mad at all. Your mileage may vary. If you’re half Vietnamese, you likely have family in Saigon. Your dad will contact his brother, a man you’ve known well but had no intention of contacting during this trip for reasons that will become apparent in your first phone call. He will be a useful resource regardless.
At the airport, you can get some breakfast and a coffee. By this point, Immigration will have opened. You can go up to them and explain your issue. They cannot help you. They will laugh at you as you walk about with your suitcase. Try not to worry about that, this will not be the last time you get laughed at by an immigration official.
Your uncle will call you through the encrypted messaging app Signal. He will use this opportunity to call you a conformist and say he doesn’t have a Vietnamese phone number. He might even say he can use your time together to dispel the reputation he has with your parents. You father would have explained your predicament. He won’t seem worried. Get a taxi to the address he texts you.
If your uncle does not know you are trans, your decision to boymode – that is, use a male name and pronouns – will not be decision you make consciously. All your paperwork is under an old name. For the flight, you dressed comfortably and therefore boyishly.
When he greets you, he will look as your remember. He is still the only one in your family that’s taller than you. He is somehow even more sinewy than you remember. He has shorter hair now. It’s dark gray, and becomes completely black toward his nape. He is sixty-something.
Shower and change into a new set of clothes. His apartment will be his roommate’s as he is not actually a Vietnamese citizen or passport holder, which makes his legal status in this apartment questionable. He will devise a plan to visit the office of immigration and get your visa extended. At this point, your friends will be more worried than you are.
He will want to show you around. He might take you for chicken and rice at a local spot. Even a simple meal like this will be delicious. Saigon is an amazing city, and you could be tempted to romanticise it, especially if your father and his brothers were all born there in the 1960s. You will find this task difficult, however.
There are lots of street dogs in Saigon, and many will freely roam into restaurants. After bringing out the food, a restaurant owner a puppy might be jumping up and down at the restaurant owner’s leg. Without breaking his stride, the restaurant owner will smack the puppy so hard the sound reverberates off the tiled floor.
Once you’re in the restaurant a man might come up to you. He’ll have a half-Vietnamese and half-Australian accent. “You Aussie?” He’ll say. “Fucking hell, you can always tell.” Melbourne is full of Vietnamese people and it turns out Vietnam is full of Melbourne people. This particular Melburnian had been living in the western suburb of Deer Park for the last 20 years. When your uncle explains your situation, he might offer to help you out. He’ll seem genuine. He’ll light a cigarette inside the restaurant and ash it into your used coke can. If you have lived in Australia your whole life, you will find this scene hard to comprehend.
He will begin FaceTiming people. If you see a woman in a light blue ao dai, that’s the uniform for the airport information desk. He may call his wife in Melbourne and hand you the phone, in that case I’m not sure what you should do.
If his connections extend into the government, he might be able to help you out. If his connections only extend into the airport, you will still need to go the Immigration office. Say thanks, and get in a taxi with your uncle.
As you are waiting in line at the immigration office, your uncle might ask you if you know about Building 7. Building 7 was another building that collapsed alongside the Twin Towers during the September 11 attacks, after structural damages to the adjacent buildings. As you might imagine, it’s been the subject of an intense conspiracy theory that says it was brought down with controlled explosives for the insurance payout.
Even if you know this fact, you might be tempted to say you don’t know to avoid a debate. After he begins explaining, you might be tempted to tell him you don’t care. Neither of these responses will get him to stop talking. He will mention Larry Silverstein; if your antisemitism detectors don’t go off here, they will when he mentions the Jewish property developers. You can try not making eye contact with him, but that will only prove his point: you ended up in this visa mess because you’re a conformist, and you are refusing to listen to what he has to say.
You slide your passport and printed out eVisa beneath the plexiglass. You can explain what has happened, but the worker will let you know that you cannot extend a tourist visa. She’ll laugh and ask why you booked a one day visa, when a ninety day visa costs the same amount. By this point, you have realised that immigration officials have very little reverence for honest mistakes.
I don’t recommend trying the embassy or the consulate, they don’t do visas. Your situation is unfortunate, but it’s unworthy of a diplomatic incident. One worker over the phone will even recommend you overstay your visa for 15 days, which is the maximum you can overstay before more serious penalties apply. That is a bad idea.
You can try and get some rest to clear your mind, but you’ll likely find it difficult with everything so unresolved. A new visa is your only option, and the Vietnamese government can only issue a new visa if you’ve exited the country.
You are about to embark on what is know as a Visa Run. Fly to another country, wait until your visa is approved, and come back to resume your holiday. Not only will be flights be expensive, but you will need to pay for accomodation for at least a night as well. The only way to get a new Vietnamese tourist visa is through the eVisa process, which could take as long as a week.
Thailand and Singapore are both visa free for Australians, you just need to fill out an Arrival Card. It’ll ask for the number of the flight you are entering on, and your return flight. Just pick a random flight for your return—you’re going to be booking a one way ticket. Bangkok is lovely this time if year.
Book a budget airline and buy a new eVisa. Be very careful to input the correct dates, and feel free to book for the maximum three months; it costs the same amount as a one day visa. As your travel companion is cancelling a tour you had planned together, the company will claim they can expedite your visa application and have it approved in 24 hours. Pay for the service. Travel agents in Vietnam are really professional string-pullers.
Your uncle’s laptop will be very useful for all this paperwork. In a completely silent moment, he might ask you if you knew that Israel was aware of the October 7 attacks before they happened. Ignoring him didn’t work before, so try a different tack. Ask him, “Why did you just say that?” He will reply that there are powerful people in the world. Do not back down.
“No, why did you bring that up?”
“Because there are powerful people.” He might start rambling. It could take a couple of tries.
“No, what made you bring that up, just then?”
“Because sometimes I don’t know if you realise that there are dark forces in the world.”
Your uncle, despite his “eccentricities”, has treated you with love and kindness. It’s understandable to feel conflicted in this moment. Sometimes he speaks with what could be described as wisdom. He proves the stopped clock theory. Maybe if you run contrary to everything you’ll inevitably be correct some of the time. You might walk in on him listening to Nick Fuentes—a man so vile he was too far-right for the late Charlie Kirk. He might swat some blood-filled mosquitos and compare them to blood sucking women. You might wonder how different it would be if he knew you were trans. He will check that you’ve made it to the airport safely.
You can meet your friends for dinner before you need to leave. If you’ve followed my steps so far, they will be shocked by your calmness and nonchalance at the situation.
At the airport, find immigration again to pay the fine. They will make you wait for a strange amount of time, so arrive earlier than you think. A man will call out your name and usher you into a fluorescent lit room. You will explain the situation and he will ask why you only got a one day visa. When it comes time to pay, you can try and use your card, but he will say they only take cash. He is very likely skimming 100,000₫ off the top of every fine. You will be in no position to protest.
The flight to Bangkok will be peaceful. Try and get some sleep. If you are placed in the front of the cabin, you’ll feel the air conditioning hit your face like wind. In the air, with your eyes closed and the cabin dimmed, it will feel like the plane and everyone else on board has disappeared—and it’s just you, flying.
Bangkok is an amazing city. Try and enjoy the couple days you spend there. Ride on the back of a Grab Bike. Enjoy the independence of solo travelling, even if you got there accidentally. Do some shopping in Bang Sue, or visit one of Bangkok’s many museums. Ride the Skytrain. Rent a bike and ride around the Railway park, and visit the small Butterfly Garden inside.
The visa application people promised it would take at most 48 hours. You could receive an email from the Vietnamese government any time within those 48 hours, including while you are trying to enjoy the Butterfly Garden. When you see the email, your heart rate will spike precipitously. You may have trouble standing. A healthy amount of ‘there’s nothing I can do about it’ has served you well but now you need to look. The eVisa has been approved. Double check the dates. It’s valid until the 25th of February, next year. Check the entry dates. Something is wrong. It says December 6th. It is currently December 1st. You have input the dates wrong again.
Collapse to the floor of the Butterfly Garden. Whisper-scream fuck to yourself.
Call your friends. Inform them of what has happened. At this point their sympathy for you will disappear. They will accept that you are simply an idiot. Book a hostel. You are spending another 4 nights in Bangkok.
You will enjoy the next four days in Bangkok. You will also be struck by a deep loneliness. You will cry at things that don’t normally make you cry. But by the end of your time in Bangkok, you will feel you have made the most of your time in a country you had no intention is visiting.
The flight to Hanoi, were your friends are on the next part of their trip, is booked for the night. Hanoi feels much sparser than Saigon, and it’s almost eerie in the dark. The touristy Old Quarter is still bustling. Find your hotel room. Change out of your airplane clothes and find the bed as silently as you can. Your friends won’t be asleep, the noise of the Old Quarter outside will keep them awake. As you climb into bed, your friend will whisper, “Welcome to Vietnam.”
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