Delayed. Late. Cancelled. These are three re-occuring problems every traveller dreads when relying on public transport. SE Asia is connected by buses and ferries, allowing easy travel to any destination. Wanting a change from the lurching and struggling ride of a large bus on windy mountainous roads, we book an express minivan at our hostel that comes with a tuk tuk ride to the bus station – bonus! Smooth sailing ahead, for sure.
Shoes! Packed, fed and on our way to the blessed tuk tuk and one of my friends realises his shoes are missing. We run around the hostel like chickens without heads. The staff join us in the mad hunt as the clock tickes away until it is no bus today or no shoes. We opt for the bus.
We are assured that our tuk tuk driver will sort out our tickets, so we fall back into the usual happy banter of our newfound family. At the bus stop, we are delighted to be right on time for our minivan. Our driver heads to the ticket desk and distributes our tickets to Vang Vieng, before promptly departing the terminal. A bus is boarding and we thank our stars that we have booked a minivan instead. Then dismay falls over the group. It seems not only are we going to be boarding a very similar large VIP bus, but also one that departs 45 minutes later than we planned. We have got it all wrong.
We split off into our individual “delayed journey” routines: I curl up against my backpack; others explore the markets for snacks while our friend tries to locate a replacement pair of shoes. Surprisingly the time flies by and we make some new friends who climb aboard with greater enthusiasm, which soon spreads among us.
The engine chokes a little then off we go, with the engines straining and mountains looming. Slowly the bus climbs and we nestle around a laptop to watch one of the few movies we have (boy, times have changed) but with 6 hours to kill we need to be tactical to maintain our sanity. Before long the bus stops for a toilet and lunch break and we feel as if we are making good progress.
But the further we go, the rougher the road becomes. Sheer cliffs surround us as we wind precariously along the mountain’s edge, passing small villages with children playing and mothers working. My imagination drifts and soon the landscape resembles my own image of Jurassic times – I definitely am not shocked to learn that Laos has been a source of an abundance of dinosaur finds over the years.
The bus slows to a halt and local children swarm out of nowhere. We climb out to explore and find ourselves on a mountainside with a closed road ahead because of roadworks. A very clever salesman is perched on his scooter selling ice creams to all the foreigners. Soon a generous traveller buys all the children a treat. (The children are also very clever as I am pretty sure they are the ones who led us to the discovery of ice creams.) Happily enjoying the odd tasting ice cream, I watch earth-movers in action, scooping dirt from the mountain to the road and another moving this to widen the bank so vehicles can pass in safety.
Soon the distraction becomes a drag and the heat starts getting on people’s nerves. The minutes tick by and finally we are ushered on board and we begin to make our way once more. Again I drift off, gazing into the distant, imaging pterodactyls flying off the cliffs. Another jerk and I am awake as the engine overheats.
Again and again, we stop as the light begins to fade out of the sky. The bus lumbers into a town and drops us all off. As we stand there confused, the bus drives off with all our belongings on board. We wander around aimlessly until everyone sits down to a meal. Finally it clicks that we are here to be fed as part of our ticket price. Half an hour passes and the bus lumbers up the driveway. The sun has well and truly left now and we amble into Vang Vieng in complete darkness and three hours late, exhausted from the journey.