Once back in Pakse we boarded
another bus heading up to Sivanakhet for another 5 hours. Eventually,
we arrived intending on catching a bus straight to Hanoi, when we
realized our money situation was dire. In fact, we were in trouble.
Since there are no ATMs in Laos we had to get all our cash before we
got there, and by the end were left with $18..... $2 short of the price
for bus tickets. It was after 6pm so the banks were closed. Then we
found out that because the next day was was Sunday, the bus didn't run
at all. We were desperate to get to Vietnam that night as our visas
were already activated 3 days earlier and we were left with only a mere
3 1/2 weeks. We put our pennies together and just managed to afford an
overnight bus that landed us in Dong Ha, a little town just across the
boarder. We were naive to the popularity of this particular bus, so
after Ian, by chance, started chatting to some random man who just
happened to own the whole bus station, we could not have been more
grateful when he sought us out and personally ushered us in front of
the large, angry crowd of locals waiting at the bus doors, and onto the
bus. We had heard horror stories about the overnight bus across the
Laos/ Vietnam boarder and our experience only confirmed the rumours.
The seats were so close together that it seemed like a cruel joke, as
it was not humanly possible to sit facing forward. On top of that, we
had great big bags of rice at our feet, stacked halfway up the seat in
front of us. The isles were packed to the brim as well, with people
sitting on top of everything. Claustrophobic is not the word. As soon
as the bus started, over half the passengers lit up a cigarette and
since the windows only opened a couple inches, within minutes we were
struggling to breath. Hour after torturous hour, we endured the ride. I
would have given anything to be back on the chicken bus. At 2am we
arrived at some random restaurant. Since the only instructions given
were in Laos, everyone but us got off, while we stayed thinking it was
a 10 min toilet break.
5 hours later, after being bombarded with
people demanding money for different things and having to hand over our
passports, the bus finally started and we finished the last 10 min ride
to the boarder, only to endure more gruelling hours of forms to fill
out, questions to answer, line-ups, and waiting, waiting, waiting.
Midday and 30 hours without sleep, our bus arrived.....and then left
Dong Ha. The bus driver had apparently forgotten that this is where we
were to be dropped off and suddenly remembered when we were already 4km
out of town. We were dropped off on the side of the highway and left to
make the 4km trek back into town. Another Canadian guy and English girl
got off with us (we were the only 4 Westerners on the bus to decided to
stick together) and we were glad for the company since we immediately
felt like we were surrounded by vultures. Instantly, men on motorbikes
rode up, trying to get us to pay them to take us to town. For 4 km they
followed along side us calling out, while locals laughed nastily,
yelling out comments in Vietnamese. We were certainly not in Laos
anymore. Desperate for money, Ian and I went on a hunt for an ATM that
would accept our cards. None did. Defeated, tired, and miserable, we
had no idea what we were going to do. Then a miracle happened. Ros, the
English girl offered to lend us money to buy our tickets to Hanoi.
Hallelujah! That evening we boarded our last bus for the overnight
journey north to Hanoi. This had officially been the longest 48 hours
of our lives!
