Back roads of Vietnam

I love staring at maps, drifting away to unknown places and drawing up fantasy itineraries to the next treasure and the next. Before you know it, Mondays aren’t so bad. It is this sport and a mild obsession with not backtracking that landed me here.

Here – squatting by what in the future will be a road, staring at paddy fields cut out of mountainsides, imagining how enviable my calf muscles would be if I ran up those terraces every day.

Heading out of Sapa, I saw my lone backpack crammed amongst the odd shapes and smells of our bus, as a sign I chose the right path to Luang Prabang. Five hundred miles, a bus change or two and an easy border crossing - I found a way to my Mekong sunset that didn’t involve retracing my steps to Hanoi and taking a flight to Laos.

All day, our red tin bus bounced through breathtaking landscapes and tiny villages where we picked up chickens, bags of rice and just about any adventurer who flagged us down. Breakdowns and near misses only added to the charm of the back roads. After all, who ever had an adventure without some bone rattling? However, as the sun readied to retire behind the mountains, we ran out of a road.

Any passage became impossible when a hasty blue truck lodged itself in a ditch, to the soundtrack of our collective gasps. Soon scooters gathered like gnats, buzzing for a way around and our little bus, with its contents spilling on to the streets, resigned to a full stop.

It took a while for my multitasking, Ipad swiping self to stop huffing and sharing my discontent with no one in particular. I was caked in red dust and my plans fell off the cliff with the rocks I kicked, but soon in an uncharted zone beyond anger and frustration, a simple idea took seed. “I am here now, and this is the most important place I can be.”

I wonder if it is magic dust or a collective epiphany - birds are tweeting again and leaves rustle merrily overlooking unrushed chatter. My motley crew is perfectly at home - An old man shells peanuts for band of ragamuffins, a pretty girl hums while she tends to her nails and a pair of pups wrestle over an abandoned slipper - while autobots descend on the scene to rescue the blue truck and save the day.

It’s been minutes or maybe even hours. I’ve given in to wordless conversations and meandering thoughts; content to sit still and catch a glimpse of modern civilization nudging its way into this little corner of Vietnam. After a long time, I am not dreaming of someplace else.