26.03.08 - Bringing Up The Border Town Blues

The Maglite was turned on.

I dared not move a muscle. Something was up. I felt just fine huddled on my bed under that grotty grey mosquito net at one in the morning. But oh no. No. Despite the fact I felt just fine.... there was definately the sensation that something was going on in my kitchen. My groggy brain came to with the certainty that any movement would burst the dam and release the aggressive monstrosity of stomach-twisting illness.

Only one thing for it. I turned and OH.... there it was, predictable as any predictable punch I had ever heard of, the ominous groan from my belleaguered belly as it struggled to contain the putrid chicken noodles I had done my best to consume the night before. Here I would like to mention that I hold the Lonely Planet guide to Vietnam to blame for recommending a foul looking restaurant where the staff had no interest in actually serving a customer and the food was really rather inadequate in a yellowed chicken kind of way!

And so the early part of my morning was spent gripping the cool porcelain bowl of my bathroom lavatory as I attempted to channel the contents of my bowels neatly into its watery depths, violent convulsions addding to the thrill of the event.

Misery was for me inserting myself into the musty cabin of another small bus along with several other tourists and far too many Vietnamese to find seats for as my fever took a hold. Instead they perched over the metal mass of some evil looking component of heavy machinery that had been shoe-horned into the bus or unapologetically stepped over passengers' heads and dropped their bony posteriors into a row of seats unsuitable for another body mass. And you should have seen the looks of frustration and irritation that crept over the faces of the travellers far too used to the unspoken expectations of conduct on our own wealthy home turfs! There is no point allowing these things get to you when embarking on such a journey, because it will only make the whole experience all the more painful. Besides, one's patience is put to the test even further when the grubby Vietnamese youth puts his feet up on your backpack and proceeds to rhythmically crack open sunflower seeds with his teeth and spit the shells out onto anyone sitting around him, while the small lady next to him chews a pongy chicken claw, her greasy hands showing no restraint when they slide into her hair or grab the seat in front as the bus bolts up over a ridge in the road.

And the ridges were commonplace with bone-shaking tremors that nearly threw me out of my single seat where I was precariously perched over the steps that step down out of the bus door. Unmade roads were certain to keep us awake as our backsides became numb from the lack of decent padding. Within a few hours we had finally reached our destinationand were promptly kicked out of the bus. Dien Bien Phu border crossing was a five minute wlk through the jungle...just follow the road!

Two hours had easily passed at the mountain border criossing. Time was wasted on stamping each passport several times and exchanging money for the experience. Sadly we were the ones that had to pay. However on a much more positive vein, we were indeed able to purchase our Laos visa on the border with Vietnam.... all horrific thoughts of having to travel back to Hanoi were firmly buried and we just had to wait until the driver of the bus saw fit to drive again!

The border crossing itself was rather gloomy, much like Vietnam. High up in the hills with jungle all around the small cluster of buildings sat. A small lavatory block spewed all waste onto the hillside from the end of a projecting waste pipe, while any other waste the site produced seemed merely to be thrown down the hillsidfe too. What a sad sight... no thought was given to the health of the local environment. Lazy Vietnamese border patrol staff sat around with little to do apart from air their damp laundry and smoke cigarettes.

Weakly sitting alongside Jo on a mossy wall I attempted to hold some sort of a conversation. A small Laos toddler was playing excitably with his mother and her sister. The wee little chappy beamed away as he staggered around, swiftly catching our attention and drawing admiring "COOS!" from Jo. His mother, while no taller than my shoulder, had a beautiful face with an honest and happy face lined from laughter, especially below her eyes and around her cheeks. As it turned out, her bouncy,energetic son had had a large growth on his chest below his neck and she had needed to bring him over the border from their Laos mountain home town to ensure he received the necessary surgery and follow-up treatment he needed. No popping around to the local doctor for him!

Relief seemed to course through all three of us as we prepared to board the bus to enter Laos. Everything that I have ever heard about Laos has been positive where our experienceof Vietnam had been rather testing, for the abrasive selling techniques of traders and the sense that we were all too easily being taken advantage of because we were seen as rich travellers.

Here's to Laos... we are ready for your delights!