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Published: June 10th 2009
. . . and I really love Indian food. That probably sounds like a real non sequitur, but stick with me on this one, if you will. I was in the northern part of Laos, in Luang Namtha, and wanted to make my way over to Vietnam, either to Sapa or Hanoi, whichever seemed to be easier/quickest. I suspected that it would probably take me two full days of travel to make the trek across the border, but it actually ended up taking three! Three loooonnng days that have already been semi-covered in my bus tips blog. I was trying to head to the northernmost border between Laos and Vietnam, though I hadn't met too many people who had braved that one. In fact I think I only met one couple who had come through that way, but in the reverse direction. Of course if I cared enough to find out what the circumstances would be, it would be simple to hop on a computer and look up the experiences of other bloggers, but that is not how I usually like to roll (less adventure). But instead I decided to set off to take whatever may come my way.
The
First sleeper bus from Thanh Hoa to Hanoi
Thomas still couldn't fit in the sleeper bus, of course, but I suppose it was better for him than regular seatsroute to the border was not a straight shot by any means, and I had to go through some transition towns and switch buses, etc. Well I'm pretty sure (but not 100%) that somewhere along the way when I was pointing on the map in the guide book to the woman selling tickets at the bus station I pointed to the next border crossing to the south of the one I actually wanted to use. So that kind woman put me on a bus that seemed to be going too far south, but because I didn't have a proper road map I thought that maybe I was mistaken. I think that that little snafu probably added some time on to my journey, but who's to say how much time it added, so no sense in dwelling on it!
Essentially I spent two days speaking very minimally because I wasn't around any other backpackers or anyone who spoke much English. On the third day I set out by songthaew toward the border, not knowing what to expect on the other side, but naively confident that some type of transportation would work out. Resigning myself to the fact that perhaps I STILL wouldn't make it to Hanoi (Sapa now seemed out of the question since I was farther south than I had meant to be), but hoping desperately that I would, though not at any cost. There was a man driving a minibus from my point of departure in Laos that day who said he could take me all the way to Hanoi but wanted to charge me some absurd fee like $50 for the trip. To make his offer more compelling, he tried to convince me that there would be no forward transportation once I got across the border, which I must admit was a little disconcerting. But unfortunately people are known to tell tales like this to unsuspecting travelers and therefore I decided I was not having it from this guy.
About half an hour toward the border, I was surprised and cautiously pleased to see an extremely tall (6'5", I later learned) young farang waiting by the side of the road in essentially the middle of nowhere. He got on the songthaew and promptly said, "You're late. Where were you?" Where did this guy come from? Who ever heard of such a thing as an actual firm time table for transportation in SE Asia? The answer: Germany and Germans. Thomas was the most quintessentially German guy ever (self-proclaimed and proud of it). He fit all the stereotypes of punctuality, orientation to details and other type-A personality traits (the guy actually had a compass which he busted out when we were navigating the streets of Hanoi, which is hopelessly nerdy but actually really intelligent, too. He at least had the good sense to ask me not to tell anyone else about the compass, which of course I'm doing here, but you don't know him, so I think it's not a breach of agreement).
Thomas brought with him a wealth of information about how the next leg of the journey should work, so I was comforted that there would be bus transportation when we got to the other side and into Vietnam because he had checked and double-checked and then verified again that there was a 1 PM bus. The minibus was trailing us the whole time and at every chance the man would continue to try to entice me into onto his ride to Hanoi. Thomas tried to wheel-and-deal with him, but we agreed that we wouldn't pay more than $25 for BOTH of us to go and the man wouldn't hear of it. I had a slight uneasiness that maybe we were making the wrong decision in this latest choose-your-own-adventure experience, but was emboldened by the fact that I was no longer a farang female alone.
We got to the border and it had an eery ghost-town feel to it. Besides the few guards and the man with the minibus we seemed to be the only ones there! While Thomas and I were taking turns using the rest room, though, I noticed two men who appeared to be Indian going through the border and I smiled at them broadly and said 'hello,' just because they seemed friendly. Thomas and I made our way through the various checks, including getting our temperature taken (SARS? Bird flu? Malaria? What are they checking for?) and emerged on the other side with still no signs of civilization, looking at each other rather dumbly. We decided that the only thing to do was to walk down the road to start asking people about where (if?) the bus would stop and then find some food because we were both really hungry. Just then a white SUV pulled up alongside us and it was those nice Indian men with their Laos guide. We explained our situation to them and they offered to drive us to Thanh Hoa (on the coast), though it was somewhat out of their way, from where we could easily catch a bus or train up to Hanoi. Thomas and I looked at each other, pleased at our luck to ride in a private car with comfy seats and A/C, a couple of hours before the bus would leave. We hopped in and set off, hoping that at some point the men would want to stop for lunch, but not wanting to be pests about it.
It turned out that the older man was the owner of a mining operation in Laos but also had business in Vietnam. The younger man, who I mistook to be his son at first, was actually his admiring employee, perhaps his protégé, who beamingly told me that his boss was a "great man" and a "genius." We got to know each other a bit over our five hour+ journey together. When the older man asked me what Colorado was famous for I fumbled: "beautiful mountains for skiing and hiking." WRONG answer! "Mining!" he proclaimed. "Yes, yes, of course, mining, too," I tried to recover quickly.
Eventually we did stop for lunch, but it turned out that the men had brought their own food from their Indian cook at the camp. The little place where we stopped had virtually no vegetables and though Thomas was not a vegetarian, the dried out meat sitting in the glass case looked utterly and wholly unappetizing. We looked at each other wondering what to do since there didn't appear to be any other options in the area. And then the Indian men invited us to eat their food with them. We both wanted to gobble it down, I'm sure, but were shy about it since we were already getting a free ride from them and didn't want to also impose on them by stretching their portions meant for two to feed four. Well in the end the older man insisted and that is how I came to eat Indian food for my first meal in Vietnam (as I did in Pak Beng, Laos for my first meal that country) and they were so generous with their delicious, delectable Indian food. . After the meal we thanked the men profusely and repeatedly, still abashed at having eaten their food. But the older man looked at us sincerely and told us that we had given him a great opportunity that day-- to show kindness and generosity to others without asking or expecting anything in return. What a beautiful way to look at it and what a grand entrance into Vietnam for us!
We continued eastward to Thanh Hoa and they dropped us off along the road at the intersection where they needed to turn. Thomas and I hoped to catch a bus though it was approaching evening and therefore the last bus of the evening. Plan B was to make it to the train station because the last train was a little later (all this according to Thomas' information). After walking just a bit down the road in the direction that Thomas thought the bus station was, a young woman saw our uncertain expressions and asked us in clear English if we needed help. She helped us flag a bus to Hanoi and we were off, just as easily as that. I truly couldn't believe our good luck that day and felt that it was an auspicious beginning to my travels in Vietnam! We headed to Hanoi Backpackers Hostel and were lucky to get a room for the night there. It felt exciting and good to be back in the hustle and bustle of the city and amongst a big group of backpackers again. I never got a picture of our Indian benefactors or even Thomas (despite the fact that we spent the next day together sightseeing in Hanoi), but I remember them all fondly nonetheless.
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Stephanie Null
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I think this might be my favorite one yet! I think you should name your travel guide book - Choose Your Own SE Asia Adventure....then we can complete a whole series of locations.