We are all that we have met.

As if we didn’t get enough vacation time from classes with our four-day weekends, we were given a week-long break before midterm week began. Since we technically got 11 days off with our weekends included, a few girlfriends and I decided to take a big trip, one that would be too big to do in just four days. After heavy contemplation over visiting northern India, the ultimate cost and rush for visa applications eventually cancelled that plan. We finally concurred on backpacking through two of Thailand’s neighboring countries, Laos and Vietnam. As time inched closer to the anticipated date of departure, our plans remained relatively underdeveloped therefore forcing us to be spontaneous, for lack of a better word. It was quite an adventure to say the least.

We arrived at the train station the night of the 16th hoping to book a sleeper train to take us to Nong Khai, 14 hours away, the town on the border where we’d deal with the immigration and visa paperwork. It turned out, and not surprisingly, that the 1^st class and 2^nd class sleepers were all booked. All that was left: 3^rd class metal, unrecline-able seats. We weren’t going to turn back this quickly so we signed ourselves up for the 253 baht (approximately USD$8) trip and figured, well, at least it’s a cheap ride. After that slim purchase, we hit the tuck shop near by to splurge on snacks, soda, and Sang Som, Thailand’s infamous brand of rum, to prepare us for the lengthy ride to come. We were all a bit nervous while waiting for the train to approach and I personally had no idea what to expect. We had heard nothing but dreadful things about the Thai 3^rd class train that’s only tolerable for three or four hours, but not much longer…and there we were hopping on it for a ride longer than half a day. We went into it like warriors and I just told myself that one day, I’ll look back on it and laugh. I’m laughing now because in retrospect, it wasn’t too awful. There was nobody smoking next to me, or stinking up the car with a smelly snack, or even a baby crying the whole way, so really, I can’t complain. There was a couple sitting across from my friend and I and it was amusing to witness the many different positions they arranged themselves in during the ride to fall asleep. However, I’m pretty sure there wasn’t much sleep to be caught with anyone else in that part of the train.

The next morning we finally arrived to a collection of tuk tuk drivers outside the train station ready to transport us to the border. The Laos visa was USD$35 and we received it upon arrival within 10 minutes. Despite the plunge of the dollar value previously, it’s still cheaper to pay with USD as opposed to other currencies like the Thai Baht, in which case the visa worked out to be USD$45 after currency calculations. We proceeded to travel another 12 hours to a town we heard is worth seeing named Luang Prabang. We arranged a private van to take all six of us there for less than USD$20 after persistent bargaining and mild frustration. Since we initially thought the ride was only eight hours, we seriously considered turning back once we discovered from the driver that it was an additional four hours. I am so glad we didn’t because not only was the ride there absolutely gorgeous; a view of the magnificent mountains, the diversity of houses, and Laotians riding bicycles on the dirt road, but also because Luang Prabong ended up being my favorite place in Laos.

Although we arrived at around 2am to a dead town they called Luang Prabang, we woke up to an extremely different place; it was lively, pretty, and quaint. We were lucky to find a lovely guesthouse that was clean, welcoming, and in the midst of the happenings called Sacharinh Guesthouse. Since the French once colonized Indochina and Laos, there were remnants of French influence apparent in the architecture and food (there were baguettes everywhere)! Luang Prabang is understandably a UNESCO World Heritage site; I loved seeing colorfully painted, French-style buildings with white shutters closely neighboring beautiful gold, green, and red Lao temples. The city’s architecture and impression very much reminded me of Granada in Nicaragua; which, ironically, was invaded by English, French and Dutch pirates in the past as well. And by the way, the French renamed Lao with an S, “Laos” during colonization, but since the Lao language itself has no final S sound, none of the locals can or do pronounce it as such. Luang Prabang was also filled with backpackers of all ages but at the same time, it maintained a unique and cheerful ambiance that I adored. We rented bikes for USD$3/day and cycled around to a new and old bridge, over the rough terrain of more dirt roads while observing squatters and creatively constructed houses, children playing and mothers working all along the Mekong River. The Mekong is one of the world’s major rivers; it’s the 11th-longest river in the world, and 7th longest in Asia. After a few hours of touring around, we went for a drink along the river before returning our bikes. We uncovered a place with cheap Indian food (USD$5 for Chole curry and naan, garlic that is!) which was comparatively delicious to what I’ve had thus far. After getting adapted to the Thai Baht currency, it was weird to be exposed to a different form of money, especially the Lao Kip in its large denominations (USD$1= 8450 Kip).

There was a fabulous and surprisingly large market that came alive at night. It sold souvenirs, clothing, and art which was all very different from what I’d find in Thailand. After dinner, we left for another city called Vang Vieng. Looking back now, I would recommend staying in Luang Prabang for more than one day; I found myself missing it once we hit our next destination. We arrived in Vang Vieng early morning, around 3am and checked into the first hostel we found called NaNa Guesthouse, which definitely wasn’t as nice as Sacharinh. Vang Vieng pretty much consisted of one lengthy dirt road lined with a few restaurants, hostels, and convenience shops. We spent about 16 hours in total there (which I thought to be enough). We dedicated the day to tubing down the same river we biked along the previous day and it was worth coming all the way to Vang Vieng for that. As we floated down the river, we passed an assortment of bars with water slides, swings, and beach volleyball courts, used to lure in the passerby tourists. Each of them blasted a different genre of music and it felt like I was tuning a radio looking for the right station. When we passed the sign for “last bar” the scene became quiet and incredibly peaceful with nothing but a breathtaking view of the mountains surrounding us. Three of us held hands as we drifted down the river on our tubes but we lost our three other friends. After two hours of tubing, we were wondering where the end of the route was and where our friends were, who also happened to have the waterproof bag with our money and cameras in it. As more time passed until we continued to see nothing in sight that might be the end, we heard lighting in the distance above us and we felt a cold drizzle. We half-joked about what we were fearful of at that point; getting hypothermia, getting struck my lighting, and/or showing up in a town we don’t know of in our bathing suits and getting exploited because of our empty pockets (or complete lack thereof)! Of course, none of that happened and we reached the sign saying “End of tubing” and we found the other three and all was well.

Once again, we took an evening van to our subsequent destination, Vientiane, which is Lao’s capital and largest city. We arrived early enough to go out and get ice-cream but soon after, we all hit the bed, especially because by this point, at least four people in my group of six were sick. Since there wasn’t too much to do in Vientiane according to our trusty Lonely Planet guide book and from what we’ve heard from friends and acquaintances, our goal for the next day was to sort out our method of transportation and visa to Vietnam. We also found falafels at a place called Mr. Falafel and it was fabulous! Surprisingly, there was a big group of Africans hanging out in Mr. Falafel and I kept trying to decipher where in Africa they were from but I couldn’t tell. We originally planned to take a 24-hour long bus ride from Vientiane to Hanoi, Vietnam but after spending almost two days total cooped up in van already, we weren’t easily willing to do it again for an even longer stretch of time. Plus most of us still had swollen ankles, or cankles rather, from the previous bus/van rides. We managed to find a deal at a travel agency that included a flight with Vietnam Air, and the visa in three hours processing time. It was a risky time crunch but we made the flight (which we booked five hours ahead) and we reached Hanoi within an hour, no problem. One minor hurdle was that I forgot to take out my Swiss-army knife from my hand luggage and after going through security, I was stopped and asked to remove my knife. I was undeniably nervous because they took my passport and started recording my details. Turns out, they were taking down my name so that they could return my knife once we arrived in Hanoi. Go Vietnam Air!

At first, I really liked the hustle and bustle of Hanoi. Motor scooters dominated the road, honking was not limited to a purpose, and there were more people sitting on bath stools along the sidewalk while eating and drinking than in actual restaurants. It was our first opportunity to experience some sort of night life without being dead tired since we left Thailand but unfortunately, there wasn’t much of it. There was a midnight curfew, that means everyone has to be in their place of residence before midnight by law…or else. I was reading an article about the curfew and the author cleverly described it as “kind of like an eight grade birthday party.” It’s comical but true. Vietnam is a Socialist country so that probably has a lot to do with the curfew and further explains government control over things like Vietnam’s media sector to follow the official communist party line.

The following day, we attempted to complete a walking tour of a portion of Hanoi called Old Quarter. It was mostly stressful and terrifying for me. Personally, I experienced more culture shock that day than I ever have here in Thailand. I felt like I was going to have a heart attack every time I had to cross the street, and finding vegetarian food was a bit of a challenge. Even buying fruits on the street proved to be a swindle because women were charging USD$1 for an apple, yes USD not Dong, the Vietnamese currency. We thought Laotian Kip was complicated to handle, the Dong came in an even greater demonination with USD$1= 16750 Dong! $1 may seem inexpensive but I rate prices relatively; in Thailand, we could get a full and satisfying meal of yellow curry, rice, fresh cucumbers on the side, and water for about that much, so I was certainly not going to get ripped off paying a buck for a banana! We eventually found a touristy but affordable restaurant called Tamarind that sufficed out vegetarian needs.

Hanoi was the capital of Vietnam for almost a thousand years (1010 to 1802) and is considered to be the cultural center of Vietnam, where supposedly every dynasty has left behind their imprint. We read about the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum in Hanoi, modeled after Lenin’s tomb in Moscow and firmly decided that if anything, we had to visit the mausoleum. Ho Chi Minh wanted to be cremated and have his ashes in urns buried on hilltops of Vietnam ⁽because “Not only is cremation good from the point of view of hygiene but also it saves farmland”), so obviously the “honor” of having his own mausoleum violates his last wishes. Alas, the embalmed body is sent to Russia to be maintained during two months of the year, one of them being October. So we settled for the Ho Chi Minh Museum which is dedicated to his life and work.

One evening, we watched a Vietnamese Water Puppet Show. Water puppetry originated in the delta of the Red river in the tenth century. The farmers in this region devised a form of entertainment using natural medium available to them in their environment. This art form is unique to North Vietnam so although the show wasn’t anything spectacular, it was a worthy cultural experience.

We spent the last three days in Vietnam coasting on the Ha Long Bay, another UNESCO world heritage site featuring thousands of limestone karsts, isles, and beautiful mountains. We spent a night in a hotel and one night on an old boat with about ten other people. We had a really difficult time enjoying the food provided for us on this tour, mostly because each meal consisted of rice, Chinese broccoli, fish patties, squid salad, and if we were lucky, French fries and tofu, half of which I can’t each. However, the view of the bay and the stars from the top of the boat made everything worthwhile. I felt like we could see every star in the galaxy. It made me reminiscent of the time we went camping in Johannesburg, South Africa and there were no lights at night besides that of the moon and stars. Anyway, a few of us fetched our ipods, claimed our spots on the reclining chairs, and devoted the night to stargazing. We saw quite a few shooting stars too!

The final day on the boat, we went cayaking and swimming in the bay after a dispensible and flustering argument with the Vietnamese workers and the capitan, who required us to check out before so that we wouldn’t have access to the showers. This is when I noticed the cultural differences between the tourists on the boat and the Vietnamese workers. When hearing that we couldn’t shower properly after swimming, some of the Americans protested immediately. There was a quarrel between some Americans, and a British woman and the Vietnamese workers about checking out after so that we could shower. The Vietnamese people were yelling and most likely cursing at us in Vietnamese while the Americans were buttering on the attitude and complaining about not getting what was paid for. After the tension and negativity on the boat, we were taken to a portion of the bay that was littered with trash an oil, “here, swimming. 20 minutes” the Vietnamese workers said. We looked over th boat and thought, out of all places on this beautiful bay, they take us here, that’s a bit ironic. There were two British men on the boat as well who had been living in Phuket, Thailand for a few years. They slyly paid the captain more money than they should have to take us to another more acceptable part of the bay to swim. That was really nice of them and I could tell, the Thai way of poignant generosity has rubbed off on them already. They explained how the Ha Long Bay tour company in Vietnam monopolizes the sector and whether or not one batch of tourists is satisfied doesn’t affect the ones coming in soon after. Plus, the people who actually work on the boat don’t get paid enough to be inspired to practice “good customer service.” On the other side of the spectrum, there was a Japanese couple on the boat as well and as soon as they heard about checking out right away, they showered quickly in their room and progressed to playing cards in the dining area on the boat while everyone else bickered in the back. I respect their behavior but I also wonder to what extent we’re supposed to demand what we deserve (or at least what we paid for) and when we need to realize that sparking a feud is futile.

Although we had an enlightening and mostly pleasant quasi-backpacking experience, we were happy to leave Vietnam. I realized how much I love Thailand, the culture, people, and I’m not going to lie; the prices as well! It was really good to be “home.”

Chetna