Motorbike Sir?

Laos can be a bit sketchy when it comes to tourist services. Agencies will often make promises, such as “the bus will get to Hanoi at 4:00” and “yes, the bus has air conditioning.” I had heard some horror stories about the bus from Vientiane to Hanoi that stem from the two “promises” mentioned above prior to taking the bus. But for only $18, it was hard to beat.

I was told be ready to be picked up at my guesthouse at 6:00 pm. 6:30 rolled around when a minibus picked me up. The minibus drove around town in circles for about 45 minutes picking up some other tourists before arriving at the bus. I was the last foreigner to board, and I gladly chose the middle seat in the last row (the first half of the bus was filled with locals, the second half with foreigners), thinking that I could have the whole row to sprawl out. I sat behind 4 Israelis (they’re everywhere I tell you) who were already making vocal their desire to have air conditioning turned on.

The bus pulled out, cruised through town and stopping at about 4 different bus stations and along the road, picking up more locals and their various possessions. The locals brought on the bus bamboo mats, rice cookers, and of all things, rice (these locals did realize they were going to Vietnam right? Come on, rice?). I thought I had a full row to myself, but I soon found myself sitting next to 4 Laotians (I still had the middle seat with ample legroom) who immediately began tugging at my leg hair. I was not sure what to make of this; were they fascinated with my white skin or modest amount of hair on my body?

The aisle soon was full with possessions and people who were willing to stand up for the long journey. A man who was upset about his seat next to mine with its lack of place storage space began discussing the situation with the bus manager while simultaneously banging his bag on the floor. What he didn’t realize was that my foot was under the bag. Realizing that the bus ride was not going to get any better, I reached into my bag and pulled out the bottle of Lao Tiger whiskey that I had purchased just before getting on the bus. I wish I had bought about 6.

We finally pulled out of Vientiane proper at around 8:30, heading towards the border on national highway #7. The criteria for being named a major road in Laos must be pretty lenient, for the road resembled a glorified goat path. As evening moved into night, (and with the Tiger whiskey kicking in quite nicely) I thought it would be a good time to attempt conversation with the four locals sitting next to me. After about 15 minutes of talk, I found out that they were indeed going to Hanoi (that much was obvious), but I wanted to find out why. What makes a Laotian hop on a bus with a bamboo mat and a bag of rice and head to Vietnam? Work? Vacation? The Israeli girl in front of me told me to give up, but I was determined to find an answer. After all, I had a good 24 hours to find out. Whenever we stopped, the Israelis would try to get a local standing outside the bus to run and buy us some more whiskey, but we had no luck. Elad, one of the Israelis kept saying “why, why, why…”

A combination of the Tiger whiskey and the diesel fumes that crept up into my area (the engine was right below me) eventually lulled me into sleep. I awoke at 4 am (the Tiger was wearing off fast) with two Laotians sleeping on my shoulders, and a lady-boy asleep on my feet. We continued onwards along the goat path for two more hours before reaching an all night eatery somewhere near the border, where we stopped for an hour (we had to wait for the border to open). I ate some noodles and wondered what the hell was going on.

When the bus started rolling again, I needed some sleep, so I popped some decongestant and passed out.

The bus arrived at the border around 7 am. Passengers needed to get an exit stamp from Laos, which required shoving your way past a bunch of vocal Laotians to the front of the immigration window. From there, you had to walk a good kilometer to the Vietnamese checkpoint. Upon walking inside, you had to first fill out a form basically saying that you don’t have SARS or have any symptoms relating to SARS. Here you must pay 2000 Kip (20 cents) as a “processing fee” to one official. You then have to fill out another form, take that form back past the health dude, and to the guy who gives you an entry stamp. Here you must pay another “processing fee” of $1. You then walk back to the area where you filled out the entry form to get a signature from another official. You then wait outside for the bus to make its way up to the checkpoint, where you have to get your bag (wet from being on top of the bus), and bring it back inside (past the health official) to be scanned by an X-ray machine. Only then do you get a final signature, and you are done. Confused? All of the travelers were following each other around, asking each other what to do next. Trying to go through immigration on no sleep and with a head full of cold medicine was not an experience I would care to repeat.

It was around 10 am when we finally pulled out of the border, Hanoi bound. As I was getting on the bus, one of the locals I was sitting next to tried to convince me to give up the center seat…I laughed at him and told him to move over. The sun was out, blaring down on my back, and the engine compartment was heating up the bottom of my seat. The next 10 hours were more of a mental challenge than a physical one. Luckily, a fair share of the locals got off the bus at various towns on the way to Hanoi, opening up some space to move around.

The main highway in Vietnam that runs north south is a two-lane road with everything from pedestrians to tour buses to wagons pulled by oxen. Our bus routinely swerved out into oncoming traffic (beeping its horn almost constantly) in order to pass something.

At last, we arrived in Hanoi. Everyone thought we were in Hanoi but in reality we were 15 km from the center, meaning we had to take a taxi. Most of the fellow travelers were pretty upset at this extra expense (an English guy started swearing at the bus driver), but I just wanted a shower and some decent food, so I kept quiet my complaints. I took the first hotel I could find, and took one of the most refreshing showers I have ever experienced. 28 hours of bus grime took a while to scrub off, but afterwards I felt like a million bucks.

I was in no mood for most of the journey to take many pictures, but I hope my gives you a taste for what the bus ride was like. I would probably do it again if I had to, but I think a better plan would be to break up the journey into 2 or three segments. 28 odd hours are a bit much in an uncomfortable bus. I met some more Israelis who took the same bus a few days later and had nice comfortable seats and air conditoning the entire way. Maybe I was just unlucky. In any case, if you are planning on taking this bus, I would reccomend bringing some provisions to help get you through the ride (booze, Valium, Tylenol PM, ect.). If you have the cash, flying is a good option, but where’s the fun in that?

The past few days I have been enjoying the sights and sounds of Hanoi. I already love everything about this city – the food, the traffic, the people. I spend my days exploring the city and checking out some of the tourist attractions. I’ll be here for a few more days (maybe locate a job) and then head south to check out some more of Vietnam before meeting up with a friend of mine who is currently in Thailand doing some scuba diving.

Neil

Tags: Vietnam

This entry was posted on Sunday, August 15th, 2004 at 7:23 am and is filed under Vietnam. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.