Being Taken on a ride to Viet Nam
I walk back to the express bus station, as instructed. I inquire about the 6:30 bus from Vientaines to Vinh, Viet Nam. I am told there is no such bus. Or, that I am at the wrong bus station. A bus is leaving to Phenom Penh. Do I want this bus?
Actually, I might prefer the Phenom Penh bus, I answer. But, I need to go to Viet Nam first, to avoid entering Cambodia twice, and paying for two visas. Also, I am not so confident that I will enjoy Viet Nam, but I have a visa, and this is my chance to go. People in an adjoining room laugh.
I study the Lonely Planet and note the section on the Vientaines to Vinh bus scam. Though they label the trip a "scam", they never actually explain why. I have limited time, and know of no other way to get to Viet Nam today. It would be wrong, I think, to spend three nights in Vietaines, which is not even the nicest part of Laos. I decide I am up for the adventure.
A man at the bus station says I can go to Vinh. He sells me a ticket for $20 in US currency and gives me a receipt. The Phenom Penh driver asks again. I repeat my story. A man interrupts and says "No, no, no" to the Phenom Penh man, who then goes away. I get in a minivan and they take me to a full sized bus. This is the bus to Vinh. It is jammed full of luggage and tourists and locals. They shove agricultural goods out the back window of the bus to make more seats available. I sit in a row of four, with three 20 year old Swedish women. The seats are small for those of us from Northern European decent. Sitting next to Ida is a somewhat intimate experience. I move the comb and wallet out of my front pocket and into my backpack, to stop them from prodding at us.
People and bags get on and off for the next two hours. Then, we leave Vientaines. The bus stops at 10:30, so we climb over our bags in the aisles out of the bus. I buy bottles of water. For my 50 Baht bill ($1.25), I am given two jugs. Then, after I am in the bus, I receive 9000 kip (90 cents) change through the open window behind me where locals are sitting. Oddly, my row and the front of the bus are air conditioned. Only the back row has windows.
We make another stop at 3:30. I buy more water. I go back into the bus. Once everyone is in the bus, the driver turns it off, closes all the doors, and takes a nap in the front section. Sleeping is not possible for me, because my seat doesn't recline all the way back. A local (Lao or Vietnamese) woman cackles whenever I try to recline it. The seat is uncomfortably hard as well. With 28 people in a bus, and with the temperature approaching and then surpassing 90 degrees, not many people sleep. Ida seems to, a little. Tourists say things like "this is BS" or Ï need to use the toilet" but are remarkably restrained. None of the bus people have admitted to speaking any English, so there is no complaint department.
At 5 a.m., a cymbal clashes five times. The driver doesn't move. At 5:30, a local passenger wearing brown shirt, brown pants and dark rimmed glasses steps over the driver. He plays the villain in the movie. I am imagine him as a drug dealer, in charge of this scam.
I am one of the first to follow. The sunrise is quite scenic. I take a picture of the bus, which I might post with a warning, "Do not Enter." At around 6, the bus starts up and the air conditioner is on again. At 7, we reach the border, and pay the $1 and 25 cent stamping and health fees. At 9:30, we continue into Viet Nam.
Ida points out that we have 100 km to go. This may only take 2 hours. The roads are improving. Detours in Viet Nam are better quality than much of the roads in Laos. Everything is plowed and green. Cattles are roped to fences. The first bull I see is larger than an elephant that I saw in Bangkok. Aside from a pushy woman who tapped her fingers at the passport stamper after cutting in front of me in line, my impression of Viet Nam is still somewhat positive. The scenery continues to be outstanding.
At, 11 a.m., we stop for gas. We have less than 10 km to go.
At 11:25, we stop for lunch. This makes me so angry that in my sleep deprived state, I slap at one of the bus people. I do not strike him physically, but gesture as if I might. He returns shortly wearing a plastic construction hat, and asks me "where are you from" in a very friendly way. I don't say anything. I just stand by the bus. I am not going to eat lunch here. I can wait until town. The others are inside eating pho.
A boy offers me a plastic chair. I say "no thank you" and look at the bus and at the traffic. Repudable buses are going past every minutes. I could get on one of them. I watch as a "secret compartment" between the engine and the underbus luggage area is opened. A 100 lb rice bag filled with something is removed. I imagine this as contraband from the Golden Triangle. The compartment is reclosed and then washed with a pail of water. Other items are also moved around, including a box for a 4.5 kg fan, which weighs much more, at least by how it is handled.
One hour after we stop, we restart and go the final 5 km. We pass a customs stop, and a man in uniform waves at us in such a friendly way that I imagine he is getting paid for waving us through.
We are deposited at a guest house. All of us retrace the final km back to the train station. I wander town, use the Internet, and exchange money. The town is either very friendly or very rude, as I hear "hello" and "where you from" every fifteen seconds. Mostly people want to sell me things, such as a ride. It seems to be against local custom to walk anywhere. Saying "hello" to kids feels okay. The adults seem too pushy. It is a hot and dusty border town. I want out. I buy a first class sleeper car to Da Nang, based on the recommendation of a fellow bus ride survivor (who goes to Hanoi.)
The Internet place accepts only VND, not dollars or Baht. It takes me two hours to find the bank. When I return with the money, people joke at me and call me "thief".
People look over my shoulder, so I go to the next door Internet place. I try to check e-mail, but my password is not accepted.
When I arrive in Da Nang, after ten hours sleep and some beautiful morning scenery, I discover that walking is against custom here also. I hear "hello" several more times per block. Even an elderly wowan offers a cycle ride. I know I smell badly (even after washing as best I could in a sink) and I am sure I look terrible. She is probably feeling sorry for me, though walking is just my way to learn about a new city.
When I stop at an Internet place, again 40 cents per hour, since the Internet places are used mostly by children playing games or sending IMs, I note an e-mail from PayPal indicating that someone from Viet Nam tried to access my account. I change passwords, as suggested by PayPal, and wonder if doing this here in Viet Nam is smart.
Walking in Viet Nam does not feel safe, even in the riverside neighborhoods recommended by the guideback. I know there are nicer places, such as Hoi An, but I decide I will be happier elsewhere.
I ask about leaving town. A friendly woman travel agent who has sold me lunch and has sat down to talk with me suggests I go to Hoi An. She has a package to sell.
Later, on the Internet, I discover that flights leave at 1:30 p.m., so there is no time for an early afternoon side-trip to Hoi An. She should know this. Though she has given me her card, and I had planned to call back. I don't.
Update: Frommer blogs.
Actually, I might prefer the Phenom Penh bus, I answer. But, I need to go to Viet Nam first, to avoid entering Cambodia twice, and paying for two visas. Also, I am not so confident that I will enjoy Viet Nam, but I have a visa, and this is my chance to go. People in an adjoining room laugh.
I study the Lonely Planet and note the section on the Vientaines to Vinh bus scam. Though they label the trip a "scam", they never actually explain why. I have limited time, and know of no other way to get to Viet Nam today. It would be wrong, I think, to spend three nights in Vietaines, which is not even the nicest part of Laos. I decide I am up for the adventure.
A man at the bus station says I can go to Vinh. He sells me a ticket for $20 in US currency and gives me a receipt. The Phenom Penh driver asks again. I repeat my story. A man interrupts and says "No, no, no" to the Phenom Penh man, who then goes away. I get in a minivan and they take me to a full sized bus. This is the bus to Vinh. It is jammed full of luggage and tourists and locals. They shove agricultural goods out the back window of the bus to make more seats available. I sit in a row of four, with three 20 year old Swedish women. The seats are small for those of us from Northern European decent. Sitting next to Ida is a somewhat intimate experience. I move the comb and wallet out of my front pocket and into my backpack, to stop them from prodding at us.
People and bags get on and off for the next two hours. Then, we leave Vientaines. The bus stops at 10:30, so we climb over our bags in the aisles out of the bus. I buy bottles of water. For my 50 Baht bill ($1.25), I am given two jugs. Then, after I am in the bus, I receive 9000 kip (90 cents) change through the open window behind me where locals are sitting. Oddly, my row and the front of the bus are air conditioned. Only the back row has windows.
We make another stop at 3:30. I buy more water. I go back into the bus. Once everyone is in the bus, the driver turns it off, closes all the doors, and takes a nap in the front section. Sleeping is not possible for me, because my seat doesn't recline all the way back. A local (Lao or Vietnamese) woman cackles whenever I try to recline it. The seat is uncomfortably hard as well. With 28 people in a bus, and with the temperature approaching and then surpassing 90 degrees, not many people sleep. Ida seems to, a little. Tourists say things like "this is BS" or Ï need to use the toilet" but are remarkably restrained. None of the bus people have admitted to speaking any English, so there is no complaint department.
At 5 a.m., a cymbal clashes five times. The driver doesn't move. At 5:30, a local passenger wearing brown shirt, brown pants and dark rimmed glasses steps over the driver. He plays the villain in the movie. I am imagine him as a drug dealer, in charge of this scam.
I am one of the first to follow. The sunrise is quite scenic. I take a picture of the bus, which I might post with a warning, "Do not Enter." At around 6, the bus starts up and the air conditioner is on again. At 7, we reach the border, and pay the $1 and 25 cent stamping and health fees. At 9:30, we continue into Viet Nam.
Ida points out that we have 100 km to go. This may only take 2 hours. The roads are improving. Detours in Viet Nam are better quality than much of the roads in Laos. Everything is plowed and green. Cattles are roped to fences. The first bull I see is larger than an elephant that I saw in Bangkok. Aside from a pushy woman who tapped her fingers at the passport stamper after cutting in front of me in line, my impression of Viet Nam is still somewhat positive. The scenery continues to be outstanding.
At, 11 a.m., we stop for gas. We have less than 10 km to go.
At 11:25, we stop for lunch. This makes me so angry that in my sleep deprived state, I slap at one of the bus people. I do not strike him physically, but gesture as if I might. He returns shortly wearing a plastic construction hat, and asks me "where are you from" in a very friendly way. I don't say anything. I just stand by the bus. I am not going to eat lunch here. I can wait until town. The others are inside eating pho.
A boy offers me a plastic chair. I say "no thank you" and look at the bus and at the traffic. Repudable buses are going past every minutes. I could get on one of them. I watch as a "secret compartment" between the engine and the underbus luggage area is opened. A 100 lb rice bag filled with something is removed. I imagine this as contraband from the Golden Triangle. The compartment is reclosed and then washed with a pail of water. Other items are also moved around, including a box for a 4.5 kg fan, which weighs much more, at least by how it is handled.
One hour after we stop, we restart and go the final 5 km. We pass a customs stop, and a man in uniform waves at us in such a friendly way that I imagine he is getting paid for waving us through.
We are deposited at a guest house. All of us retrace the final km back to the train station. I wander town, use the Internet, and exchange money. The town is either very friendly or very rude, as I hear "hello" and "where you from" every fifteen seconds. Mostly people want to sell me things, such as a ride. It seems to be against local custom to walk anywhere. Saying "hello" to kids feels okay. The adults seem too pushy. It is a hot and dusty border town. I want out. I buy a first class sleeper car to Da Nang, based on the recommendation of a fellow bus ride survivor (who goes to Hanoi.)
The Internet place accepts only VND, not dollars or Baht. It takes me two hours to find the bank. When I return with the money, people joke at me and call me "thief".
People look over my shoulder, so I go to the next door Internet place. I try to check e-mail, but my password is not accepted.
When I arrive in Da Nang, after ten hours sleep and some beautiful morning scenery, I discover that walking is against custom here also. I hear "hello" several more times per block. Even an elderly wowan offers a cycle ride. I know I smell badly (even after washing as best I could in a sink) and I am sure I look terrible. She is probably feeling sorry for me, though walking is just my way to learn about a new city.
When I stop at an Internet place, again 40 cents per hour, since the Internet places are used mostly by children playing games or sending IMs, I note an e-mail from PayPal indicating that someone from Viet Nam tried to access my account. I change passwords, as suggested by PayPal, and wonder if doing this here in Viet Nam is smart.
Walking in Viet Nam does not feel safe, even in the riverside neighborhoods recommended by the guideback. I know there are nicer places, such as Hoi An, but I decide I will be happier elsewhere.
I ask about leaving town. A friendly woman travel agent who has sold me lunch and has sat down to talk with me suggests I go to Hoi An. She has a package to sell.
Later, on the Internet, I discover that flights leave at 1:30 p.m., so there is no time for an early afternoon side-trip to Hoi An. She should know this. Though she has given me her card, and I had planned to call back. I don't.
Update: Frommer blogs.
Labels: travel
posted by David Rasmussen at 10:08 AM
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