Transportation in Laos

Transportation in Laos is a lot like holding your breath while driving through a tunnel: it's a fun game when you make it out but you feel like you're going to die if it's too long. I was so excited when Carmen let us take the VIP night bus from Vientian to Pakse--a 12 hour ride. The bus promised new DVD movies, dinner, cold water and wash cloths. Unfortunately, there is no rule concerning cargo on buses: our entire trip was serenaded by a bird squawking for it's life. The 'new DVD's' were the latest in bad Lao kareoke and dinner consisted of a scoop of rice with chunks of pig-like substance. Upon arrival to Pakse at 6am, we began searching for a bus to take us 2 hours south to see ancient Khmer ruins. A seedy man promised to take us to a bus, which would take us straight to the ruins for $3 each. We cautiously got in the bed of his tut-tut--a motorbike with an attached pick-up truck bed. Twenty minutes into the ride, we realized his tut-tut was the bus. We must have different definitions for 'bus'.

After seeing the ruins, we hiked to the road side and tried waving down vehicles heading south--towards Si Phan Dong. I scoffed at the Dutch couple with their thumbs out across the road but soon realized our method was not much different. A pick-up truck, or sang thaew, slowed as it approached us. The bed of the truck was full, three people were on the roof and two were hanging off the back. My response, "No." When the next truck passed with six people on the roof and four hanging off the back all Carmen said was, "See, we could have gotten on that last one". Unfortunately, she was being serious. Yes, this is my girlfriend.

To leave Si Phan Dong, we were told to wait on the corner by the temple between 8 and 8:30 to catch a 'big bus'. No sign, no schedule--just a corner. At 8:15, a sang thaew pulled up. I was afraid that this would be the 'big bus'. We climbed aboard. Three benches lined the bed of the truck. Along with eight locals on the benches, cargo from a farm littered the floor. Under Carmen's feet, a large bag of live fish thrashed with ever bump. One large fish escaped and flapped on the steel as it searched for the Mekong. The live duck under my seat didn't enjoy the ride and defecated soundly in an act of defiance. Through out the three hour ride, the duck--and it's feces--moved into the aisle forcing me to straddle the potential flu carrier. We did arrive but I am struck with the urge to eat butchered, fried, and then barbecued duck.