From Da Nang to Pakse
South East Asia has an undeniable air of confidence to it.
From bus drivers downing Beer Lao while a group of tourists behind them bite their nails to the $1 fried rice eaten by the river on children’s patio furniture. No matter how foreign the action, visitors have no choice but to trust it.
And they should trust it.
Westerners are used to efficiency being formal. The less formal an institution, the less we trust it. Just like walking into traffic in Hanoi, you have to step forward relinquishing yourself to the current.
Taking the bus from Da Nang, Vietnam to Pakse, Laos was yet another example of reliable chaos. I paid $76 to a bus company with few reviews on Google to reserve a sleeper seat for a 16 hour bus ride scheduled to arrive 22 hours after departing.
Ready with books, movie downloads, and snacks, I slid into my sleeper seat. Thankfully, I’m roughly the size of the average Vietnamese man, a sentence I never expected to say, and fit comfortably in my seat.
Traveling by bus is the cheapest and occasionally simplest way to travel through SE Asia. Plus, driving from east to west had the added cache of riding into the sunset.
The bus was operated by a team of men: one drove, one chain smoked, two provided moral support. They did not speak English, communicating with myself and a german tourist through grunts, head nods, and hand gestures that became more aggressive the longer it took us to comprehend.
At the Laos border, our team of chauffeurs climbed onto the roof of the bus as we stepped off. A few meters from Vietnam immigration is a gas station and abandoned general store. The only instructions we received came from the least agreeable of the men, who from on-top of the bus looked to me slamming his fist into his hand as though playing rock-paper-scissors - sign language for “go get your passport stamped.”
Walking across a border is the most triumphant way to enter a country. Full stop.
Understandably so, Vietnamese Immigration officers tend to treat American citizens with contempt. My passport was checked by 3 officers, one of whom followed me on a scooter to the Laos entrance to check once more for good measure. I have nothing to complain about, we deserve it.
Laos immigration was a breeze. I had my photos and visa fee ready (in USD - you can exchange Vietnamese Dong in jewelry shops for dollars near market rate). The officers spoke just enough English to make the process quick, and before I knew it I was in Laos waiting for my bus to make the same trip.
After 3 more hours aboard what would be the most luxurious part of this adventure, I arrived in Xeno, Laos. The head driver yelled “Pakse!” to me then walked off the bus to a wooden stand and purchased a new ticket for me. I was then told to “Wait! Wait! Pakse! Wait!” While simultaneously being waved off.
Again, take a step, trust the process.
Two hours later, thanks to a few kind Laotian travelers, I found my bus. Though, this was not the sleeper I was promised. This was the kind of bus they warn you about. The kind of bus where there could be a monk, chicken in a cage, and dead body in the seat next to you.
The center aisle of was taken up by cargo, making the floor level with the seats. I nudged my way to the back, finding the only seat I could - a wildly lucky feat. Since I hadn’t slept during the day, I was able to sneak in a 4 hour nap while being lulled by the bumpy road.
I arrived at 2am, 3 hours earlier than expected. One thing to note about buses in Asia, there is no set drop off point or time. You could arrive at a bus stop or a street corner, at 11 am or 3 am.
Fortunately, Pakse is small and my hostel was only 2 blocks from the street lamp I was dropped at.
I rolled my monster of a suitcase down the street arriving at 1918’s Hostel to find the desk attendant sleeping on a cot. I waited, wondering if checking in early was worth waking him up - after all, no one likes being woken up in the middle of the night. Ultimately, the possibility of a bed sounded too lovely to pass up and I began repeating “excuse me”, beginning at a confident whisper and increasing in volume until he woke up.
With no beds available, the attendant kindly allowed me to sleep upstairs in the common room on the floor. He even plugged in a fan for me! Using my neck pillow and fleece to prop my head up and my camping towel as pseudo-blanket, I got another 5 hours of glorious rest before rolling over to see other backpackers shuffling between the dorms and shower.
TL;DR (Too Long, Didn’t Read)
Don’t worry if your bus driver is drinking while driving, it’s just a fact of life. As long as he has his friends, it’s all good.
Be prepared to communicate through charades.
Traveling by bus allows you to see a whole country - it is worth the hours. Bonus! It saves a lot of money.
No matter what, you will arrive at your destination. But you have to keep moving. If the bus drops you off in a dirt patch, trust that this is the right dirt patch. If the bus is full, find a corner and sit. You’ll make it where you need to go.
Sleeping on the floor never hurt anyone (but it has made them sore). Pack a pillow and prepare hardwood.