The Road to Hanoi - Crossing the borderline personality disorder

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Friday, 20th August
They days were separated as the calendar dictates but our saga continued well into the next day, and without sleep it all molded into one heap of scum. I managed to nod off for long enough to avoid crying the next day, Hayley stayed awake (but didn't cry either).

It should be noted that fatigue played a large part in our day today, as well as our perceptions of it, in case I say something for which I am later in court for.

Since our stop yesterday had been dictated by the opening hours of Vietnam like it was the local corner shop intuitively that is where the day started. Well, first to get out of Laos. Hang on, Hayley has no departure card. No "do not lose" departure card. F**k! These f**king visa f**kers lost it. Can't go back and complain - the first rule of backpacker tourist agencies. Sh*t. Panic sets in.

The immigration building was an absolute babyshambles. Foreigners do not know how to queue. We hung around the back trying to figure out what the fr*g to do. By a stroke of luck Hayley saw a man handing out cards. Crisis averted. What crisis you ask? WHAT DID I JUST SAY ABOUT FATIGUE?

From Laos to Vietnam was a long walk across a very bombable bridge (should the need arise). Not sure what country this qualifies as since we are out of one but not in the other. Maybe it's purgatory. Just greener. And full of migrants. Everyone knows migrants get into heaven. At the entrance to Vietnam the same shambles continued. That's kind of a redundant statement since it's all the same people from the last joke. To make it worse the computer made of human bones and coconuts had decided it didn't work Fridays so the guards had to fill out everyone's details in his old school notebook.

And then the extortion begins.

So you know how you paid $50 for a visa? Well, now you have to pay the guards for stamping your forms. What a tw*tting joke. And no we don't take Laotian money because in the rest of the World it has the value of that tracing paper they use in the toilets at lower school. So what if all you have are five dollar notes? No money, no stamp.

It's fair to say I (all sleep deprived) did not approve of this ethical dilemma. Technically it is bribery of a public official. Otherwise put - robbing those tourists blind. I put the note in the passport and slammed it down. Mr. VC in his full army get-up stands up, looks right at me and crosses his arms.
No.
I pick up the passport and place it back down in an exaggeratedly nice manner.
No.
Holy sh*t. We have just been denied access to Vietnam. This is the rest of our trip. Seriously what the f**k do we do now? Live in the mystical land of Vietnarmia in between the borders? We headed out of the shambles to take stock. In the midst of the post-traumatic period I saw the same guy try and say no to another poor confused fellow, before doing the squinted focus thing like "you all look alike" and then kick-starting his heart again by accepting the passport.

Every second felt like ten minutes.

Until the guy finally couldn't live another moment without a KitKat and left. We jumped into the throng before he had a chance to reject us again, and through we were.

So back onto the bus. It smelt worse than I ever remembered it, like playing drums on my gag reflex. Thankfully Hayley still preferred the warm of the bottom bunk so I could avoid the claustrophobia.

The immediate scenery didn't change from Laos too much, it's not like North Korea where they build a movie set and make the place look like it isn't the backward famine-ridden country it is. It's paddies. And mountains. And paddies on mountains. And mountains with paddies on them. And the biggest cliche we could possibly find, maybe even the most racistiest; the slopey hat on top of the toiling worker.

The towns really marked our entrance to Vietnam. Seen exclusively through the window of the bus of course, but still where the contrast began. Compare the odd house in a thousand with a fading flag blowing in the wind versus the centre of every single avenue splattered in red as if Chairman Mao had been turned into a giant then slaughtered and bled flags all over the place. If you didn't know Vietnam had Communist leanings before coming in...you're a f**king idiot. But that's neither here nor there.

Add the flags to the billboards proclaiming Vietnam's greatness and the full brainwash is complete. Donate my things to the greater good and sign up to the nearest rice field and I'm all set.

We had two stops on our neverending journey. At one, all the girls started crying as we got off to see a livestock lorry parked right next to us. Why were they crying? 2 reasons really, partly because the animals were packed tighter than a pub on new year's eve and also because the livestock were dogs. Common stick-fetching, andrex chasing dogs. The stereotypes are true. Thankfully I have little attachment to the filthy beasts.

At the second stop a more politically interesting thing happened. This was the standard 'drop you at whichever cafe gave the bus driver the most money'. Since Hayley and I had no dong, we got no food. We started to go in search of an ATM before being grabbed back. "Eat here. Here." Aggressive. Perhaps despite its socialist leaning Vietnam might be closer to Thailand than we thought. I f**king hope not.

With no money we literally survived off of one box of Pringles in a 24 hour period. Laos money is definitely toilet paper outside of Laos.
And so into Hanoi. Not even through the outskirts of the city before we were being tapped up by a man who got onto the bus. No phony credentials like the ones at the airport that take you to a cesspit so that you will pay more for their "other" not-so-sh*t hotel, and his minibus was about one-tenth of the cost of a taxi. At his first hotel we turned it down because it was too far from the centre, and somehow blagged another ride to a different hotel. Fortunately the entire troupe of Israelis followed us not knowing what the fr*g was going on. When it turned out that that hotel was sh*t AND full we snuck away before being dragged to a third hotel whilst Mr. Entrepreneur hassled the others.

By sheer luck, and the fact it was coming up for 10 at night, we secured a hotel room for $20 which was HUGE. Last minute deal dot com. Really p*ssed off the guy we just told we didn't wanna spend $18 on a room.

On the bus I saw the first funny sign - Manh Phat Saloon.

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Photos

A bit of local propaganda
Translates as "Vietnam is the best. The rest are sh*t"