So, 30-hour bus trips. I don't recommend them, funnily enough. 'What?' I hear you cry. What could be more pleasurable than spending 30 hours in exactly the same position in a space the size of a small coffin, where you are neither sitting up or lying down; precariously perched on the 'top bunk' with no bathroom and emergency exits, while you are driven over some of most hair-raising roads we've ever been on, and your only company is your iPod, Kindle and a packet of Pringles. For 30 hours! And we weren't even entirely convinced we were going to Luang Prabang!
Ok, maybe it wasn't quite that bad, and for once my small stature paid dividends as I could lie out while poor Ais had to keep her legs bent the whole time. How anyone over six feet would cope; I have no idea.
Our travelling companions for this leg were five English girls from Essex (no judgement) who were all of 21 and heading to Vang Vieng to get, "fucking wasted, man!" We eventually crossed the border after 12 hours of travelling, a relatively painless experience given the wonderful courtesy of Laos immigration. The girls, however, turned out not to be quite so lucky. At the border they asked with great difficulty to retrieve something from their bags (if the locals can't understand you just start shouting at them and waving your arms around as though your playing drunken charades; that's bound to help clarify the situation!), and after eventually getting the message across were rewarded to find a stowaway puppy in the luggage hold who had (unsurprisingly, and probably from fear) pooed itself all over their backpacks. They were not happy campers....
The next 12 hours were spent navigating Laos' many unpaved roads, where recent landslides had washed away the Tarmac, leaving in places only a dirt track to drive upon. It was certainly slow-going and kudos to our bus driver who didn't send us plummeting to our deaths over the numerous sheer drops that descended from Route 13. Now, we knew at some point the bus was either going to take a detour or either us or the girls were going to have to catch another bus, as Luang Prabang and Vang Vieng are in opposite directions. When we finally stopped and the girls were asked to jump off we presumed we must be in Vang Vieng. As we'd been travelling for so long we thought we might as well get off too and head to Luang Prabang the following day, as it was getting late and we hadn't booked accommodation. I got off the bus with the girls to enquire if the town was actually Vang Vieng. The town, or rather village, was extremely small and quiet for such a known party paradise, and our suspicions started to get raised. Our bus driver knew exactly what we were asking, but feigned not to understand and before we knew it he was back on the bus and driving away leaving the girls and me on the roadside. Suddenly I was running after it shouting "Luang Prabang, Luang Prabang", with Ais on the inside hassling the driver to stop to let me back on board. The bus slowed, the doors opened and I was literally dragged on to the bus by the scruff of my neck! Once back on, we were told the next stop would be Luang Prabang in another four hours.
It was certainly a close shave and I spent the next four hours thoroughly relieved that I'd been reunited with Ais and my belongings.
A few days later we bumped into the girls in Luang Prabang who informed us they'd actually been dumped in a village three hours from Vang Vieng with no bus connection. They had to spend the night together in one bed at a truckstop with no food or water, as there was no cash machine for them to withdraw money from. The next day they scraped together their remaining US dollars to hire a minivan to take them to their destination.
So in light of all that, Ais and I felt as though we'd had a lucky escape and were fortunate enough to end up where our ticket said it was taking us. The Vietnamese scam strikes again!
But now, over to Laos - a country that could not be more different in temperament and atmosphere, and somewhere we completely fell in love with...
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