Across the Border into Vietnam

We took a bus from the world's sleepiest national capital of Vientienne towards the Vietnam border, sad to think about leaving Laos but eager to make headway into Vietnam. Despite the madness of our first three days in the country, Laos had really begun to sink in, and we knew that it would be hard to shift gears from Laos time to the hecticness of the rest of Asia. We were the only falang on the local bus to the border from Savannakhet, and the driver (nor any passengers) were in any kind of hurry to complete their journey. The driver often stopped the bus multiple times in a span of 200 meters, to pick fruit, deliver a parcel to a villager, or allow a teenage boy to hop off, run to the market, buy a diving mask (presumably for fishing) and hop back on. We were considerably less stressed when we realised it would not be a problem to delay the bus a few minutes while we untied our bikes from the roof, and the driver even took a few laps up and down the street on Mo's bike before telling us goodbye and firing up the engine again. Our time in Laos riding between the villages was an interesting look into a country that still largely consists of people living off of subsistence agriculture. Yes, they need to get home, but to tend to their crops and keep the household running - not to be on time for a meeting, make it to class, or show up for work. This simple living, combined with Beerlaos - the ubiquitous, cheap, and surprisingly good national brew - seems to produce an country full of happy and pleasant inhabitants that manage to keep smiling, despite their lack of material possessions or ravaging of their country by umpteen various world powers throughout the past millennia.

One incredibly interesting lens that we have been examining this travel experience through is the multiple land border crossings we have encountered. Many times when travelling internationally the border becomes less of a physicality and more of something abstract that occurs somewhere between the gates of two airports. When cruising around the countryside on a bicycle, the physical land border is incredibly tangible and present, from the countdown of kilometers on the roadside signs as you approach to the different posts to which you hand over your passport that you ride between. With this crossing comes stress and immediate discomfort, as within the space of a few hundred meters you are plunged into a new land where you often have none of the proper currency, don't know how to say simple things like "Hello" or "Thank You", and are immediately confronted with new customs, lifestyles, and ways of living.

The crossing into Vietnam was the most formal of the crossings we have encountered so far, and they even X-rayed our bags in a semi-official manner. The increase in development, infrastructure, and money was immediately apparent on the Vietnamese side, and we fought to find the right tone with which the locals would understand our botching of "Sin Jow", or "Hello". Fortunately the learning curve is quick, and we found an ATM, used enough body language to get a hotel room, and found some dinner which consisted of rice, vegetables, and some unidentifiable meat. We feel fortunate that we are able to explore Vietnam voluntarily as opposed to the generation before us, and we will work on getting off of Laos time and synchronized with the locals, which will be a bit sped up if the mega-jolt coffee served alongside green tea for breakfast this morning is any indication. Yes, despite our discomfort in the new experience, we've already learned "kaffee sua", or coffee with milk - now all we need is a tour company to schlep our bags and we'd be all set.