We've been by boat and by bus and by foot through North Vietnam and Laos. The drive from Sapa to Dien Bien Phu was the most magnificent drive I've been on. The fog lifted after we passed the highest pass in Vietnam. It lifted to reveal foot trails through lush jungle, kudzo and vines streaming down the mountain like drip castles, scattered thatch huts, houses made from bamboo on stilts, mopuntains that looked like conical hats, water buffalo plowing the rice terraces. We followed along the Nam Ou River, curves that swung the doors open, flung us against the bus window and forced us to see that one foot of road existed between our tires and sheer cliff, no guard rails. The driver laid on the horn around every mountain but never slowed, it was a constant drone of motor and horn and sheer delight as Sarah and I looked out the back and saw land and land and no people, no cars.
We arrived in Dien Bien Phu, the closest Vietnamese town to the Laos border. This border just opened for internationals in May and it is not advertised in any guide books, making it difficult to figure out bus schedules and times. Awaking at 3:50 the next morning we walked to the bus station, hoping to catch the 5:30 bus. It didn't leave until the next day. So we hired a car, arrived at the border in 30 minutes. It was 5:30am and the border didn't open until 7am. With our headlights we found a ditch to protect us from the dogs, the cow shit and the cold wind. At 7 we woke up and easily passed through Vietnam and walked 1km to Laos. Tunnels used by the Laos during the "Secret War" distinctly marked the mountain side. The US launched the largest bombing attack in history on Laos during the 1960s. 2 million tons of bombs dropped, 1/3 did not detonate. Hundreds die each year from these unexploded ordinances. I see relics of them in peoples yards. They are sometimes used as flower pots.
The Laos greeted us warmly, told us to wait a minute, the border guard who could officially give us our visa was at breakfast. 20 minutes later he came back and told us, "rest a while, no problem, it'll be a while." He brought us a bitter green tea, roots,and oranges. We shared our dried fruit and soy beans. 2 French men arrived later and we played rummy, ate more oranges. Few cars or people passed by. The guards lifted weights, shot at tin cans for target practice, bathed in the river, played guitar and sang. One took a photo of the flowers to show us. Whenever a big truck came through, a guard would donne a medical lab suit and spray the tires down to prevent the spread of avian flu. It got dark. The guards invited us to dinner and they served us fried noodle soup, fried prok rhinds, pickled onions and bannanas. We toasted two rounds of lao lao-only the start of our experiences with this god-forsaken whiskey made from rice. After dinner, Sarah and I laid in the dust road and counted shooting stars. We slept on wood benches in the office. Red candles flickered out and the temperature dropped near freezing. Roosters woke us up. In the morning, the visas were mysteriously stamped by our border guard friends. A bus arrived around 8am and we piled in, sat on rice bags and bounced to Muang Khua to spend the night. The ride was dusty, people vomitted, we forded 4 rivers. I was so eager for a drink, I bought lao lao in a bag for 30 cents. A low point for me. That night we played Texas Hold'Em with 3 Aussies, a Spanish, Mexican, 2 Israelies and a cyclist from Holland. Everyone exchanged travel stories, tips and I went to bed early.
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