What a culture shock!
Bob did secure tickets on the local bus to Vietnam, and we boarded at 9:30pm for the unknown. As the only falang on board it was always going to be an 'interesting' trip; Seats were only installed in the front half of the bus and these were full, with quite a number of very small children. The duration of the journey was indeterminate, and we had no idea what to expect.
Leaving some time after 10:00pm, just on the town borders we stopped under cover of darkness and a troop of guys slunk on, settling down on the floor at the back, one accompanied by a couple of thick blue poly pipes about 6 metres long. The lights were soon extinguished, stopping my first elementary lesson in Vietnamese from the very basic guide in the back of the lonely planet guide. A Vietnamese DVD of Karaoke was played at a loud volume from here.
We stopped a few times, with many items being secured to the roof. Later, in the light these were shown to be sacks of charcoal. Often, the schreechingly bright fluorescent light was flung on to rouse anyone from the illusion of slumber. At times, the call to stop by one to answer a call of nature resulted in a stampede out of the bus with a long row of men relieving themselves.
After travelling past stands of gum trees, around two in the morning we stopped and everyone alighted. With the assistance of an English speaking Thai woman travelling with 3 friends, we found that we were in Dan Savan, the border town of Laos. As the border post didn't open until 7:00am, there was nothing to do but wait.
The weather was warm and the wind still, so that was a blessing. Walking down the street it felt as though we were in a deserted Western town, and I could not help humming the theme from "The Good ,the Bad, and the Ugly" as we strode down the main street, it's boarded up shop fronts with low awnings over the street on hitching posts, a piece of cardboard substituting for spinifex being blown down the street. Dogs lay across the centre lines oblivious to everything.
Laying our holsters on the grimy tabletop down the road, we ordered a coffee and hoped for the best. The coffee was not Cafe'Lao though, instead it was a thick concoction of Cafe'Viet, welcome nevertheless and bearable with the addition of sugar. After being hassled incredibly by a series of women touts to change our money to dong or to take our passports to stamp, we ordered a second. The largest dog on the centre of the road got up to saunter off, revealing herself instead to be a sow hanging out with the dogs for a break.
At around six am we walked across the river to the 'other side' waiting once again for the Lao border officials to finish dressing, check their mobile phones, and so on. More touts hassled. A crush of men pushed and shoved their way through oblivious to any protocol. Eventually, a little bruised, we had paid our 10,000 dong departure tax and had our visa's checked. Now to enter Vietnam.
The most elaborate sort of border post was under construction, a huge edifice soaring its way to the sky with a fallange of workers already hard at it. It appeared absurd to our sleepy eyes and brains out here in the middle of no where. Further up the hill, our visas were checked, and we made our way to another 3 areas to be stamped and checked. There seemed to something amiss with Bob's new 'security enhanced' passport (maybe he just looked too good in the passport photo!), but with good humour we were through without too much ado. Then, more waiting, more touts, almost all young women in identical white 'bucket' style hats, approaching all, and running away from the police in the area.
Bob did secure tickets on the local bus to Vietnam, and we boarded at 9:30pm for the unknown. As the only falang on board it was always going to be an 'interesting' trip; Seats were only installed in the front half of the bus and these were full, with quite a number of very small children. The duration of the journey was indeterminate, and we had no idea what to expect.
Leaving some time after 10:00pm, just on the town borders we stopped under cover of darkness and a troop of guys slunk on, settling down on the floor at the back, one accompanied by a couple of thick blue poly pipes about 6 metres long. The lights were soon extinguished, stopping my first elementary lesson in Vietnamese from the very basic guide in the back of the lonely planet guide. A Vietnamese DVD of Karaoke was played at a loud volume from here.
We stopped a few times, with many items being secured to the roof. Later, in the light these were shown to be sacks of charcoal. Often, the schreechingly bright fluorescent light was flung on to rouse anyone from the illusion of slumber. At times, the call to stop by one to answer a call of nature resulted in a stampede out of the bus with a long row of men relieving themselves.
After travelling past stands of gum trees, around two in the morning we stopped and everyone alighted. With the assistance of an English speaking Thai woman travelling with 3 friends, we found that we were in Dan Savan, the border town of Laos. As the border post didn't open until 7:00am, there was nothing to do but wait.
The weather was warm and the wind still, so that was a blessing. Walking down the street it felt as though we were in a deserted Western town, and I could not help humming the theme from "The Good ,the Bad, and the Ugly" as we strode down the main street, it's boarded up shop fronts with low awnings over the street on hitching posts, a piece of cardboard substituting for spinifex being blown down the street. Dogs lay across the centre lines oblivious to everything.
Laying our holsters on the grimy tabletop down the road, we ordered a coffee and hoped for the best. The coffee was not Cafe'Lao though, instead it was a thick concoction of Cafe'Viet, welcome nevertheless and bearable with the addition of sugar. After being hassled incredibly by a series of women touts to change our money to dong or to take our passports to stamp, we ordered a second. The largest dog on the centre of the road got up to saunter off, revealing herself instead to be a sow hanging out with the dogs for a break.
At around six am we walked across the river to the 'other side' waiting once again for the Lao border officials to finish dressing, check their mobile phones, and so on. More touts hassled. A crush of men pushed and shoved their way through oblivious to any protocol. Eventually, a little bruised, we had paid our 10,000 dong departure tax and had our visa's checked. Now to enter Vietnam.
The most elaborate sort of border post was under construction, a huge edifice soaring its way to the sky with a fallange of workers already hard at it. It appeared absurd to our sleepy eyes and brains out here in the middle of no where. Further up the hill, our visas were checked, and we made our way to another 3 areas to be stamped and checked. There seemed to something amiss with Bob's new 'security enhanced' passport (maybe he just looked too good in the passport photo!), but with good humour we were through without too much ado. Then, more waiting, more touts, almost all young women in identical white 'bucket' style hats, approaching all, and running away from the police in the area.
There was no sign of the bus, and no indication of what to do. The 4 Thai ladies were equally at odds, so we just waited, hoped that we would have known if the bus left without us, and waited some more.
The bus did come and all goods were removed and as we walked through a rudimentary airport security checkpoint with our handluggage on a conveyor to X-Ray, our backpacks were placed in a pile for searching. 'Digger' a cute, if rather aging cocker spanial came out for her sniffer duties and eventually, our bus' pile of luggage was cleared. Everyone (except Bob) piled on board, and we were off, collecting Bob at the last moment as he had mislaid one of his bags.
Culture shock is right! I think I'd rather run another marathon...far less risky! Great posts, Carolyne.