This is Lao. This is travelling.

The next morning we wake up to Jennie’s phone, and head on out. As usual, we board a decent looking bus which takes us north, up to Dong Ha. I immediately start hibernation and wake up an hour and a half later, being ushered out of the bus.

Barely conscious, I realize I am now inside a random building, looking out onto the familiar sight of a sudden downpour of Vietnamese rain. The overcast skies let loose, and the torrent begins. A tour operator looks at us, and asks ‘Lao?’. We nod along in consent, and he quickly pushes us into a van no larger than the one we took from the airport. This time, instead of Mockingbird’s careful construction, we have been thrown into a dilapidated vehicle straight from the 80’s. Perhaps Mr. Fox had accidentally taken this one back into the future, because it certainly looked like an experiment. We warily toss our bags into the back, and saddle up.

Not 20 meters later the van takes a hard right out onto highway 1. The poor Beast’s door violently flies open, and the nearest local scrambles to shut it before the rain soaks us all. We look at each other, half-amused and half-incredulous. The van continues to entertain. After a hiatus, the rain again begins in earnest. The roof of the vehicle, whether in an effort to provide us with an ‘authentic’ experience or from sheer laziness, leaks water into our cabin. The drip eventually becomes a steady flow, and I cannot imagine the audacity of someone to pass this thing off as a van, when it obviously was meant to be a convertible. I am saddened by our Beast’s unrealized dream, and return to my bootleg American Gangster DVD.

Sadly, before the movie finishes we reach the border. No less than 7 people must check our passports before we are allowed into Laos. Thankfully, there was neither rain nor corruption at this border crossing. Intriguingly, our Beast drives off as soon as we arrive on the Vietnamese side, on what I am sure would be his last journey. On the Laos side a Vietnamese woman tells us to take bikes to catch our bus to Savannakhet. I ask if she is going to pay for them, seeing as how it is part of the trip. She says no, and I immediately realize how much of a ride she is really taking us on.

We arrive at our bus, a large blue on white tin can which, amazingly, looked like it was born even before the Beast. The bare-bones bus was stuffed to its brim, and the additional luggage had to be stacked on top. The chicken coops, bags of rice, and boxes of guitars all piled upon each other in a disastrously-high fashion, seemingly defying even modern engineering achievements. We wait an hour before it decides to go. I hit the sleep button.

8 hours later, sore and uncomfortable I am fed up with infrastructure in Laos. Laotian urban planners must have taken their cue from the millions of bombs dropped on their country, because the road seemed to be pocketed with craters. I am amazed at either the indifference or the incompetence, but soon realize that all the complaining is just from my sore back and the vague grogginess of being comatose all day.

We reach the town of Savannakhet (finally). This little city has one main drag, and harkens a sort of Asian old-western feeling. The square in the middle of the city is deserted, with hardly anyone loitering about but one or two little kids trying to fly kites. I am sure though, that sooner or later, a shoot-out is bound to happen.

That night we decide to eat at the only place in town with tourists in it, an obnoxious red restaurant which plays Laotian Pop at ear-plugging decibels. The owner is an odd-looking Dutch fellow who ‘liked the peace of Laos’, but had no other reason to be there. I feel like one day not too long ago, he had a map, darts, too much LSD and a TV that would only play Iron Chef back in his ‘flat’ in Holland. Apparently, this leads to owning restaurants in out of the way Southeast Asian countries.

We finish our food and head to our hotel, Leena. Leena is in an alleyway not a block from the main thoroughfare. One of three respectable guesthouses we saw while we were there, it was cheap, if not lacking in beds. The three of us could hardly fit on the one full-sized mattress. I sleep on the floor.