The following morning I packed up, said goodbye to Mr. Phai, and headed for the Vang Vieng bus station. Predictably, the 9am bus to Vientiane was full, as it had been the previous morning, and the 10am was full too. But this time all the sawngthaew were packed to the brim as well, so I had only one option: the 12:30pm public bus. I bought a ticket and headed back to town for a leisurely breakfast and some On the Road.
When I arrived back at the bus station at 12:15, I found the bus already full. Apparently buying a ticket for the public bus in Laos does not actually guarantee one a seat. I appealed to the ticket collector, and he asked two people to stand up, pulled the seat cushion out six inches from the wall, and voila, I had a seat. I put my feet in the aisle, braced myself, and prepared to balance on six inches of cushion for the curvy five hour ride.
Meanwhile, my pack had been put on top of the bus. Most buses in Southeast Asia have storage compartments underneath for luggage, but public buses in Laos do not, so all luggage went on the roof. I assumed everything would be covered with a tarp in case of rain. Bad assumption.
Not surprisingly, the trip was miserable. And while I admit that I usually prefer the “real experience” to the cushy, VIP version of travel, this bus ride made me long for anything but reality. To add to my uncomfortable perch on the end of the seat cushion, the bus picked up something like 30 additional passengers en route to Vientiane, and before long the aisle was so full with people that I didn’t have anywhere to put my feet. That meant I kept sliding off the seat and into the aisle on sharp curves, which came about every thirty seconds. And, graciously, the two people sitting on the seat with me kept shifting toward the aisle, cutting my six inches of cushion to three.
The rain started soon after we left Vang Vieng (it’s now rained every single day since I’ve been in Laos, and this is the dry season) and continued all the way to Vientiane. I didn’t think much of it because I assumed my pack was safe, but when we arrived in Vientiane I realized that there was no tarp covering the luggage. My pack was soaked. At least I didn’t have a computer or anything else important in there.
I stopped by the only international ATM in all of Laos (!!!) and then headed for the southern bus station to catch an overnight bus to Pakse, in southern Laos; I had seen all I cared to see of Vientiane the previous day, and besides I was sick of the rain. But when I got to the station I found that all the night buses to Pakse were full—I would have to go tomorrow. That makes four straight full Lao buses.
I was less than excited about spending the night in cold, rainy Vientiane, but I didn’t have another option, so I headed back into town and walked into the first guesthouse I saw. Success! It had an open dormitory bed, and it only cost $2. I dropped my pack, went and ate Indian food for dinner (why there are Indian immigrants in Laos I have no idea), and then, exhausted from the day’s uncomfortable bus ride, collapsed in my lower bunk by 9pm.
Around 2am, I awoke to my bed shaking and moans coming from the bunk above me. It seems an Irish guy and a British girl thought the dormitory would be an appropriate place to have sex. Lovely.
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