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Published: November 17th 2011
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Hello home,
Firstly in answer to the numerous questions about the weather, no, we haven't been rained upon and no, we definitely haven't seen any flooding. It's currently a cool 30.C and Izzie and I are now officially international jet setters, having crossed borders and gained another rather snazzy stamp in our passports. Despite their better judgement, the crossing into Laos was remarkable uneventful, the highlight being the chat up lines used by all officials we encountered ("you're beautiful, you have a boyfriend?" Didn't matter if we answered yes or no the response was always the same... "I be your boyfriend?" These kind of comments do wonders for a girl's ego - gentlemen readers please kindly take note.)
So how did we get here? Well, as Izzie and I are both seasoned commmuters and hardy types whom British Rail cannot strike fear into the hearts of, we decided that our best hope was catching a train from Ninh Binh to Vinh, and then a bus from Vinh to Vientiane, the capital of Laos. Although this may not sound like the most exciting of blog entries, stick with me as I describe one of the most bizarre and surreal journeys
of my life. Ever. Probably surpassing the hitch hiking to Amsterdam for encounters with characters and moments where I was convinced we were in some form of comedy show - like Little Britain but for Asia instead.
Having wasted away an afternoon in Ninh Binh, we were eventually able to board a train to the industrial, post war icon of badly fabricated modernist architecture that is Vinh. Whenever we were asked our dstination, people looked incredulously at each other and raised eyebrows were a sight I began to become intimately acquanited with. Having run through our repertoire of card games (the highlight being snap) and failed in our efforts to teach happy families to curious onlookers earlier in the day, it swiftly became clear that there was absolutely no chance of repeating this on the train. Having been told that the train was busy and that there were no soft seats (ie - the beds that I travelled to and from Sapa on) we bought tickets for standard class, which is where the locals sit because they simply can't afford paying double for the luxury of a bed space. When we first purchased the tickets we thought we were
standing the entire way as the lady behind the counter confidently assured us that "stand tickets" were the only ones left... as it was only a four hour trip we decided it would be uncomfortable but not terrible to be on our feet, so when we noticed the seat reservations we were estatic at this upgrade.
Having heaved ourselves onto the train (harder than you'd expect - short legs + heavy rucksack = awful teetering moment when I could have swayed either way) and navigated the incredibly narrow confines of the inter-carriage connecting bits, it soon transpired that our 'booked' seats were occupied and thus we were presented with children's plastic chairs and the exhortation to sit in the aisle. As novel solutions to overcrowding on trains go, I was actually fairly impressed, and with knees touching and crowds of curious Vietnamese looking on, the train began to leave the station.
The jolting, irregular accelaration and periodic slamming of the brakes meant that the seats had a tendency to rock violently and on tight corners slide from one side of the walkway to the other. This was all fine, but the enthusiastic trolley service meant that the plastic
seats had to be lifted out of the aisle and into the middle of a nearby family, who happily manouevered sacks of rice and legs out of the way until we were sat inbetween the two sets of facing seats. Luckily, this family were delightful and soon Izzie and I were trying to explain through a complex combination of sign language, mime and that miscommunication stalwart interpretive dance, about our lives and where we from. The facinated locals were entranced by how tall Izzie was and kept on telling her to mind her head on the ceiling fans, whilst others took photographs and invited friends from other carriages to come and look at us.
Four hours later, and trust me when I say small plastic seats make you count every single passing minute, we arrived into Vinh (pronunciation incidentally rhymes with 'grim'😉 and by good luck and excellent map reading skills found not only the bus station by the private bus company we were hoping to book with, as public buses tended to take hours at the border crossing into Laos. Despite the late hour (11pm) we were able to buy seats in what we were repeatedly told very a "very, very nice bus" and also find beds in what was possibly the worst room I have ever slept in. The only good thing I can say about it, is that it had running hot water and cost a grand total of $3 each for the five hours we stayed there.
Bright and early the next morning, having taken advantage of the room's solitary good point (the shower) we headed back to the bus station to be greeted by the most amazing sight: a bus with beds in. That's right, with beds in it. Not quite like the Night Bus in Harry Potter, but close enough for us to think we were pretty cool to travel in such style. The only real negative was our fellow passangers and the fact that the bus was designed for people whose average height doesn't even reach my shoulders. The appeal of the beds thus ran out after about half an hour, and having mind numbingly terrible Thai pop music being blasted through the speakers and television took the space of one song to make me lose the will to live. Izzie however, found the perfect solution to these irritations by promptly falling asleep, whilst I endured what I believe was the greatest hits of a chap who sported the hair from a boyband of the 90's (Boyzone maybe?) and far too much tight leather to comfortably gyrate towards the audience without grimacing (bad wardrobe choices abounded throughout the entire set - hair stayed the same due to an unfeasible amount of hair gel.)
But... we made it. And we are in Laos, a country so unfussed about the passing of time that the capital feels like a provinchial market town. It's so relaxing feeling unhurried or flustered and just enjoying the world going by after the manic development and go-getting nature of northern Vietnam. First impressions are great, and plans involve eating well having found a fabulous Japanese restaurant, seeing some temples and French influenced buildings and recovering from the torture of Thai pop music.
Much love until next time,
Jenny
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Diane
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'Happiness is a journey, not a destination'
How wrong they can be! Sounds terrible - long bus journey, limited head space, short beds,loud music! -except-the japanese restaurant - what did you have? But it sounds like the long trip was worth it - lucky things. X