Around the world before I'm 30

A Long Day’s Journey into Laos

I pay $20 for transportation from Ban Lung in Northern Cambodia to Don Dhet, the 4,000 islands, in Southern Laos.
“Yes, bus and boat included” assures the proprietor of my hotel, writing on my receipt.

I am picked up in the morning, my money given to the van driver. With several locals, we are off on the bumpy, dusty road with shrill Cambodian music blasting from the radio. The road long and unpaved, the music not being my taste, I long for this part of the journey to end. In Stung Tren I am passed on to my next driver with a claustrophobic pick-up truck. I see my money change hands again. We drive to the Cambodian side of the border, where my visa is stamped ‘used’.
“One dollar” the immigration authority says. This is my “exit fee.” I pay and I’m officially not in Cambodia.

We drive the short distance to where Laos begins. Here I laugh at the goats I see crossing from one side to the other, Cambodia to Laos and back, no visa necessary.
“Two dollars” the authority says. Feeling gutsy, I try to negotiate my “entrance fee.”
“One dollar?” I say.
“No!” he says, pointing to a handwritten sign, “Overtime, Sunday!”
As far as bribes go, it could be much more. I acquiesce.

We drive just past the border and I am dropped off again. More of my money changes hands. To my excitement, the rest of the land trip is via motorbike. I happily hop on the bike with my driver and we go. My enjoyment dies as the wind hurts my face, dries my eyes, and my backpack painfully arches my back the wrong way. At the boat crossing I step down and the motorcyclist leaves without handing over any money. The Laotian workers tell me the cost of the boat.
“No, bus and boat included” I say showing my receipt all the way from Cambodia, annoyed, hoping that saying this my dodgy motorcyclist and money will reappear here, where it’s meant to be.

The Laotians are unsettled. I can tell they feel bad asking for more money when I seem to have already paid, but they can’t take me across for free. I consider paying twice.
“Mr. Ban” they call to a man boarding his own boat. They talk, and I go with Mr. Ban, who has bungalows on Don Dhet. I agree to stay with him as a thank you for his kindness. I have gone from Ban Lung to Mr. Ban.

As we cross, the sun sets and for the first time today I enjoy everything around me. The scenery is pure and fresh; the land and sky have never seen pollution or skyscrapers. That night standing on the edge of Don Dhet I see so many stars I can’t find any constellations. I am in Laos.