The seat was broken. Correction, almost all the seats were broken.
They rattled and thrusted—throwing their cargo around like a tossed salad. If salad had feelings it wouldn’t be far off the perpetual nausea stimulated by this bus journey.
We had expected smooth asphalt roads leading into Laos’s capital city. However, this appeared to be the worst stretch of road in all of Laos. Never improving no matter how far our tattered seats carried us. At the halfway food/drink/toilet stop I almost kissed the dirt. Instead I opted to lie on the ground while my stomach twisted and turned. Either I was experiencing motion sickness for the second time in my life or I had a bug. Most likely both …
In a permanent brace position (a little less extreme than an aircraft emergency landing position) we made the most of the journey. We had one movie on a laptop so we naturally filled a couple of hours watching it for the umpteenth time.
The rest of the journey I spent in a state of meditation as I tried to outwill and outwit the state of illness which was rapidly consuming my body. I pictured white sandy beaches, waterfalls (quickly moved on from this image for other reasons…) and a nice patch of flat unmoving grass under the shade of a willow tree.
During the moments I broke out of my inner mantra and trance, I glanced at my travelling companions. They were definitely faring much better than me. I definitely was getting sick! However, as horrible as this sounds, I was comforted by the fact everyone had a slight tinge of green to their usual peachy complexions.
Eventually, the bus began to slow. We had hit traffic! On this rough road we had hit peak hour. As is usual with buses in Laos, we were running behind schedule with no concept of how long it would be to reach our destination.
The energy of the entire bus shifted. Usually when you hit peak hour traffic it is human nature to fall into some version of road rage. Whether you swear to yourself, to other drivers, inhaling deeply and heavily or even taking it out on your gears, we have all experienced it. This time though it was an excited energy. The thirty odd passengers were united with the same thought—“We must be close!”
We had all mentally celebrated too soon. Sure enough our bus ride did end soon and that horrific experience ended as our feet touched the gravel of the bus station. In the distance, we watched the sun dip beneath the land. The sun wasn’t the only thing in the distance though. So was Vientiane.
It turned out Vientiane’s bus station is located 15 kilometres out of town.
An army of tuk-tuk drivers were at the door before the driver had even put the bus into park. Instantly they swarmed. Short of a cattle prod they attempted to herd us into their vehicles. They weren’t the only swarm at the bus station: giant mosquitoes were in battle formation and annihilating us from all directions.
With our swatting (at the mosquitoes) and deflecting drivers onto the next person with the “it’s not up to me” tactic, we were soon rewarded. To the driver’s and mosquitoes’ dismay, a public bus pulled into the station. For a mere 5,000KIP we had the luxury of unbroken almost new seats, air-conditioning and a ride into town, just 100 metres from our hostel. Winning! I thought as my stomach twisted into another horrific notch. Definitely wasn’t just the bus …
All opinions are subjective to the writers personal travel experience. The writer travelled at her own expense.