After carefully considering all our options, my friend Greg and I decided that the absolute WORST one would be to take a 24-hour bus ride from Vientiane to Hanoi. We did some Google searches about the trip, which got us a variety of horror stories such as, "The bus broke down and we had to spend the night sleeping on the ground" and "I spent 19 of the hours sitting on a plastic chair in the aisle with my feet on a bag of rice." Obviously, we decided to pursue this option.
Each bus ticket cost us 140,000 kip, or about $17. This included a ride from the travel agent to the bus station, the bus ticket on an "ordinary" bus (in order to have the most "authentic" experience, we eschewed "sleeper" or "VIP" options), and a small bottle of water. We stocked up on some snacks ahead of time: Bugles, blueberry Oreos, and more water. We arrived at the travel agent at the designated time and hopped in the back of a pick-up truck to be taken to the bus station. Also in the truck with us was an Australian guy, although he was booked on the "sleeper" bus. We got dropped off at the bus station at around 5:30 PMaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA88888888888888888888888888 (<--- this portion of the entry brought to you by a cat)
We got on the bus at 5:30... and sat there. At the bus station. At around 6:30, the driver appeared and turned on the bus, along with some sort of Vietnamese sitcom on the TV. Three episodes later (which involved a lot of riding around the countryside on motorbikes), we began to leave the bus station. However, it somehow took us around 25 minutes to leave the bus station. We were off to a great start! We celebrated by eating a bag of Bugles.
For the next several hours, we rambled through the dark Lao countryside. We had watched out the window at the bus station as all the other Westerners got on the VIP/sleeper buses, but actually, things were not that uncomfortable. For me, at least. The woman sitting in front of Greg had immediately reclined her seat upon the bus leaving the parking lot, so he was pinned into place. Following the lead of several of the Vietnamese passengers, I had harvested a couple extra blankets, so I was comfortably ensconced in my seat, wrapped in two fleece blankets. The Vietnamese sitcom continued - somehow the plot line involved lots of beating people with sticks - and a couple of the locals on the bus attempted to make conversation with us, but we couldn't get much further than pointing to ourselves and saying our names and nationalities. (I was a little nervous about proclaiming my American-ism, but my tentative "Chicago" was greeted with smiles and enthusiastic nods and "SHEEE-ca-go! USA!" so apparently my fears were for naught.)
At around 11:00 PM, we stopped for the night. We had reached the Lao/Vietnam border and would be spending the night in a parking lot so that we could cross the border as soon as it opened in the morning. Things started to go a bit downhill here. The sitcom was turned off but was replaced by some sort of Vietnamese pop/opera. Imagine that you are in a good mood, on a summer day, and you hop in your car with the windows rolled down, and decide to play some good, loud, music. Yes. This is the approximate volume that the pop/opera was played. Behind me, a man decided to provide his own soundtrack for sleep by playing some sort of Vietnamese crooner on his cell phone, but then promptly fell asleep and began snoring loudly - music continuing to play. My fleece blankets 67yyyy4h (<---- more cat) quickly became inadequate, and I huddled in my seat, unable to get comfortable, shivering slightly, until I finally drifted off to a less-than-restful sleep.
In the morning, we set off again. It was raining outside and things were COLD. After about 20 minutes, we reached Lao exit control and were herded off the bus to get our passports stamped. Some people brought their blankets from the bus with them but I was too proud to present myself at border control wrapped in a blanket like some sort of refuge. Once our passports were stamped, we stood in the rain waiting for the bus to be searched and I resolved that in the future, I wouldn't let anything like "pride" or "dignity" prevent me from being wrapped in a blanket at all times. We reloaded the bus and continued another few minutes to the Vietnamese border control, where we once again disembarked.
I thought about taking a picture of myself at this point, because I was soaked with rain from the first stop, wrapped in an orange and grey blanket, bleary-eyed and messy-haired from lack of sleep, and wearing rain-speckled glasses. I was going to post in on the blog along with a caption saying, "Would YOU let me into your country?" but then I realized that A) there is no need for a permanent record of how I looked and B) my camera would probably be swatted out of my hand by a Vietnamese border official.
Words than can be used to describe the Vietnamese border are "grim", "bleak" and "humorless". When we crossed into Lao, we took a little boat across the Mekong, waited a few minutes for visas, and then had our passports stamped by a friendly border official who then took a few minutes to teach us to say "thank you" in Lao, laughing at our poor pronunciation, and cheerfully waving goodbye when we set off into town. The Vietnamese border guards demanded 1 US dollar per passport, regardless of nationality (a French girl kept weeping, "I am not American!"), and then looked dubiously at everyone's passport photo. (To be fair, I don't think ANYONE looked like their pictures.) There were no "lines" or "organization" - basically we just fumbled our way around, shoving our way through crowds of people. If you went in the wrong direction, you were quickly corrected by angry shouting, so eventually we got through passport control, had our bags x-rayed, and, inevitably, were shoved out into the rain to wait for our bus to be searched.
I chatted with a Vietnamese man who worked in the steel industry and had been working in Dubai for the past few years but was now working in Lao. He spoke fairly good English but our conversation dwindled when he told me that in Vietnam, being 25 and unmarried would be "bad, very bad, because WHY no one marry you?? HAHAHAHA." (Thanks, pal.) Eventually, we were allowed back on the bus. One more Vietnamese official boarded, checked all our passports again, and we finally set off.
Vietnam was EXACTLY how I expected it! Acres and acres of rice paddies, tended by people in conical hats. The rain continued all day and the bus was unheated. My blanket was wet from standing in the rain so I had to switch to my back-up blanket but was still really cold. After a few hours, we stopped for lunch at a roadside restaurant. I asked for fried noodles and was given instant noodles mixed with a hearty amount of partially cooked cabbage - YUM! At least it was hot. Also, I saw "eel gruel" on the menu so I guess things could have been worse. We befriended one of the girls from our bus who turned out to be Korean.
We got back on the bus with slightly higher spirits. Greg had gotten coffee at the restaurant, which made things a lot more bearable for both of us. Things got slightly warmer in the afternoon, and things began looking up again. My blankets had dried and my feet slowly warmed up, and soon we would be in Hanoi! We already had rooms booked at a guest house, so we figured things would be smooth sailing from here on out.
The travel agent had told us we would arrive in Hanoi at 4 PM. At 4 PM, we were in the middle of a rice paddy. At 5 PM, we were in the middle of a rice paddy. At 6 PM, we were in the middle of a rice paddy. At 7 PM, we were in a small town!! We finally arrived in Hanoi at 8:30 - good spirits totally evaporated. We disembarked the bus into pouring rain and were immediately accosted by taxi drivers. We had been warned about the prevalence of taxi scams in Hanoi - drivers who tell you your hotel is closed and take you to one where they get a commission. Not wanting to deal with any sort of shenanigans, we ran away from the bus station and eventually found a cab from a company listed as reputable in the guidebook.
Unfortunately, our taxi driver had NO IDEA where our guest house was. We showed him on a map, and he gazed at the map as though it were from a completely foreign city. Finally, we agreed that he would drop us off at a landmark several blocks away. We left the cab and began hurrying through the rain towards the guest house. This could have gone better. We kept getting slightly lost, although we were mostly headed in the right direction. We hadn't eaten since the terrible noodles at lunch and it was nearly 9:00. Finally, we found our guest house and tumbled inside, looking like drowned rats.
The icing on the cake would be if they didn't have our reservation, but luckily we managed to choose a guest house that is EXACTLY the place you would want to turn up if you were cold, miserable, and exhausted. It is run by a Vietnamese family who are the nicest people in the world. The mother (who appears to be in her 60s) immediately pushed mugs of hot tea into our hands and worried in broken English at our wet clothes, insisting that if we didn't have any other clothing, she would give us warm clothes. The daughter (maybe 30?) took our bags and told us that there was no hurry to get to our rooms and we should warm up for a few minutes. After drinking our tea, moving into our rooms, and getting changed into dry clothes, we were given a map with restaurant recommendations - we went and got some delicious hot noodle soup a few blocks away. We had survived the bus trip! And today we begin to explore Hanoi!
Each bus ticket cost us 140,000 kip, or about $17. This included a ride from the travel agent to the bus station, the bus ticket on an "ordinary" bus (in order to have the most "authentic" experience, we eschewed "sleeper" or "VIP" options), and a small bottle of water. We stocked up on some snacks ahead of time: Bugles, blueberry Oreos, and more water. We arrived at the travel agent at the designated time and hopped in the back of a pick-up truck to be taken to the bus station. Also in the truck with us was an Australian guy, although he was booked on the "sleeper" bus. We got dropped off at the bus station at around 5:30 PMaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA88888888888888888888888888 (<--- this portion of the entry brought to you by a cat)
We got on the bus at 5:30... and sat there. At the bus station. At around 6:30, the driver appeared and turned on the bus, along with some sort of Vietnamese sitcom on the TV. Three episodes later (which involved a lot of riding around the countryside on motorbikes), we began to leave the bus station. However, it somehow took us around 25 minutes to leave the bus station. We were off to a great start! We celebrated by eating a bag of Bugles.
For the next several hours, we rambled through the dark Lao countryside. We had watched out the window at the bus station as all the other Westerners got on the VIP/sleeper buses, but actually, things were not that uncomfortable. For me, at least. The woman sitting in front of Greg had immediately reclined her seat upon the bus leaving the parking lot, so he was pinned into place. Following the lead of several of the Vietnamese passengers, I had harvested a couple extra blankets, so I was comfortably ensconced in my seat, wrapped in two fleece blankets. The Vietnamese sitcom continued - somehow the plot line involved lots of beating people with sticks - and a couple of the locals on the bus attempted to make conversation with us, but we couldn't get much further than pointing to ourselves and saying our names and nationalities. (I was a little nervous about proclaiming my American-ism, but my tentative "Chicago" was greeted with smiles and enthusiastic nods and "SHEEE-ca-go! USA!" so apparently my fears were for naught.)
At around 11:00 PM, we stopped for the night. We had reached the Lao/Vietnam border and would be spending the night in a parking lot so that we could cross the border as soon as it opened in the morning. Things started to go a bit downhill here. The sitcom was turned off but was replaced by some sort of Vietnamese pop/opera. Imagine that you are in a good mood, on a summer day, and you hop in your car with the windows rolled down, and decide to play some good, loud, music. Yes. This is the approximate volume that the pop/opera was played. Behind me, a man decided to provide his own soundtrack for sleep by playing some sort of Vietnamese crooner on his cell phone, but then promptly fell asleep and began snoring loudly - music continuing to play. My fleece blankets 67yyyy4h (<---- more cat) quickly became inadequate, and I huddled in my seat, unable to get comfortable, shivering slightly, until I finally drifted off to a less-than-restful sleep.
In the morning, we set off again. It was raining outside and things were COLD. After about 20 minutes, we reached Lao exit control and were herded off the bus to get our passports stamped. Some people brought their blankets from the bus with them but I was too proud to present myself at border control wrapped in a blanket like some sort of refuge. Once our passports were stamped, we stood in the rain waiting for the bus to be searched and I resolved that in the future, I wouldn't let anything like "pride" or "dignity" prevent me from being wrapped in a blanket at all times. We reloaded the bus and continued another few minutes to the Vietnamese border control, where we once again disembarked.
I thought about taking a picture of myself at this point, because I was soaked with rain from the first stop, wrapped in an orange and grey blanket, bleary-eyed and messy-haired from lack of sleep, and wearing rain-speckled glasses. I was going to post in on the blog along with a caption saying, "Would YOU let me into your country?" but then I realized that A) there is no need for a permanent record of how I looked and B) my camera would probably be swatted out of my hand by a Vietnamese border official.
Words than can be used to describe the Vietnamese border are "grim", "bleak" and "humorless". When we crossed into Lao, we took a little boat across the Mekong, waited a few minutes for visas, and then had our passports stamped by a friendly border official who then took a few minutes to teach us to say "thank you" in Lao, laughing at our poor pronunciation, and cheerfully waving goodbye when we set off into town. The Vietnamese border guards demanded 1 US dollar per passport, regardless of nationality (a French girl kept weeping, "I am not American!"), and then looked dubiously at everyone's passport photo. (To be fair, I don't think ANYONE looked like their pictures.) There were no "lines" or "organization" - basically we just fumbled our way around, shoving our way through crowds of people. If you went in the wrong direction, you were quickly corrected by angry shouting, so eventually we got through passport control, had our bags x-rayed, and, inevitably, were shoved out into the rain to wait for our bus to be searched.
I chatted with a Vietnamese man who worked in the steel industry and had been working in Dubai for the past few years but was now working in Lao. He spoke fairly good English but our conversation dwindled when he told me that in Vietnam, being 25 and unmarried would be "bad, very bad, because WHY no one marry you?? HAHAHAHA." (Thanks, pal.) Eventually, we were allowed back on the bus. One more Vietnamese official boarded, checked all our passports again, and we finally set off.
Vietnam was EXACTLY how I expected it! Acres and acres of rice paddies, tended by people in conical hats. The rain continued all day and the bus was unheated. My blanket was wet from standing in the rain so I had to switch to my back-up blanket but was still really cold. After a few hours, we stopped for lunch at a roadside restaurant. I asked for fried noodles and was given instant noodles mixed with a hearty amount of partially cooked cabbage - YUM! At least it was hot. Also, I saw "eel gruel" on the menu so I guess things could have been worse. We befriended one of the girls from our bus who turned out to be Korean.
We got back on the bus with slightly higher spirits. Greg had gotten coffee at the restaurant, which made things a lot more bearable for both of us. Things got slightly warmer in the afternoon, and things began looking up again. My blankets had dried and my feet slowly warmed up, and soon we would be in Hanoi! We already had rooms booked at a guest house, so we figured things would be smooth sailing from here on out.
The travel agent had told us we would arrive in Hanoi at 4 PM. At 4 PM, we were in the middle of a rice paddy. At 5 PM, we were in the middle of a rice paddy. At 6 PM, we were in the middle of a rice paddy. At 7 PM, we were in a small town!! We finally arrived in Hanoi at 8:30 - good spirits totally evaporated. We disembarked the bus into pouring rain and were immediately accosted by taxi drivers. We had been warned about the prevalence of taxi scams in Hanoi - drivers who tell you your hotel is closed and take you to one where they get a commission. Not wanting to deal with any sort of shenanigans, we ran away from the bus station and eventually found a cab from a company listed as reputable in the guidebook.
Unfortunately, our taxi driver had NO IDEA where our guest house was. We showed him on a map, and he gazed at the map as though it were from a completely foreign city. Finally, we agreed that he would drop us off at a landmark several blocks away. We left the cab and began hurrying through the rain towards the guest house. This could have gone better. We kept getting slightly lost, although we were mostly headed in the right direction. We hadn't eaten since the terrible noodles at lunch and it was nearly 9:00. Finally, we found our guest house and tumbled inside, looking like drowned rats.
The icing on the cake would be if they didn't have our reservation, but luckily we managed to choose a guest house that is EXACTLY the place you would want to turn up if you were cold, miserable, and exhausted. It is run by a Vietnamese family who are the nicest people in the world. The mother (who appears to be in her 60s) immediately pushed mugs of hot tea into our hands and worried in broken English at our wet clothes, insisting that if we didn't have any other clothing, she would give us warm clothes. The daughter (maybe 30?) took our bags and told us that there was no hurry to get to our rooms and we should warm up for a few minutes. After drinking our tea, moving into our rooms, and getting changed into dry clothes, we were given a map with restaurant recommendations - we went and got some delicious hot noodle soup a few blocks away. We had survived the bus trip! And today we begin to explore Hanoi!
So much I could say! But will have to wait til you return. I did wonder what the border guards were so worried about being brought into the country.
ReplyDeleteAlso, glad to know there are kind people and motherly types all over the world!
ReplyDelete