Dear Family and Friends,
Day 113, Monday, September 3, was a rainy morning. Dani was up at 6:30 AM typing away while Martha attempted to sleep in—still difficult with the street noise below. We went down to get breakfast, typed a quick note to the Duck Ladies to offer to get them off the hook if they didn’t want to come up to our place, packed, and got a phone call just past 11:00 AM that there were three ladies from Holland waiting for us in the lobby! We paid and officially checked out of Room #301 Darling Backpackers Guest House, paying 40 USD for the room for four nights, 18 USD each for our tickets for the about-20-hour b
us ride to Vientiane, Laos, and 44 total USD for our day trip to Halong Bay, bringing our four nights in Hanoi to roughly 120 USD without food and puppet show. We deposited our packs in the back room, were told by Tien at the front desk to be back before 6:00 PM, and were off for the day down our crazy street of market items. Now, though, we were a fivesome gawking at the street offerings, taking photos (Martha got some decent shots and video of frogs, pig pieces, her companions, and the town’s ‘flavor’), and heading into the main complex of Don Xuang Market.
We didn’t spend too much time in the market, as it was crowded and we were constantly pushed around. We did take some time to look for shoes for Martha, just to have a task, but the decent 150,000 dong sandals that she found were not available small enough for her feet. She did spend some time drooling over
the other shoes, but was disappointed that so few offered any kind of arch support. The Duckies enjoyed playing the shoe game with Martha; we continued our song-creation tendencies started the night before (‘Ho! Ho! Ho Chi Minh!’), and relish more time together.
Our afternoon then commenced to a routine of stopping for beverages and food! First, we found coffee at a little stall down an alley lined with different lunch and drink options. We found space for all of us and the gentleman of the pub walked off to another stall to get the coffee and tea we requested. The lady patron of the bar was working hard w
ith cerebral palsy, and did a great job of entertaining and educating us while continuing to prepare the meal that they would serve for the day. A cat slept under the plastic table, and eventually, Dani was talked into being the guinea pig of the group to try the ‘che’ that was being served at the table next to ours.
Che is one of those ‘you should try this’ drinks (lunches?) recommended in the Lonely Planet. It can intimidating to try, however, as it is a collection of unknown gelatinous consistencies, beans, coconut milk, and additional pieces of whoknowswhat. But, man, is it good!! Dani’s bravery benefited all of us as we shared the glass; only Saskia continued to make a face as Dani slurped up long pieces of gelatin like gummy worms. The occasional bean was looked at with interest in whether it was really just a bean.
From this stand, we trekked around a bit more in quest for lunch, passing a restaurant with dog on a platter by the door (the guidebook says that there is a town 10 KM from center city that will serve dog, but what is it doing all over here?). We popped into a little café thinking that there might be food, but it was just drinks, so we enjoyed some watermelon fruit shakes or tea. Onward, we passed the oldest temple in HaNoi and found ourselves outside the Ladybird Café, which had been recommended to Martha by Miss Khanh on the trip to HaLong Bay.
The Ladybird Café offered a very pleasant atmosphere and lovely food: the five of us chose fresh spring rolls (Dani), stir-fried greens (Manon), Szechuan-style tofu (Martha) … (and I don’t remember what Saskia and Marjan had … DOH!). Regardless, we were there more for the time with our Duck Ladies than anything else.
Before we left, we had to share our little people-watching corner of the 2,000 dong fresh beers (which were really more like drinking bubbly water). The ritzy hotels continued to send their patrons around in the slow-moving bicycle-driven rickshaws, vendors and individual sellers continued to try to sell us a hat, and we enjoyed giggling about other foreigners and guessing their origin.
All too soon it was time to leave, but we dawdled even longer, not wanting to depart … besides all of the minibuses had picked us up a good 30 minutes later than they said they were going to everywhere in Viet Nam, including for our Halong Bay tour out of Hanoi. With the bus officially leaving at 6:30 PM, what was another 10 minutes? A lot, it turned out, as the Duck Ladies escorted us back to our hotel and we turned the corner of the market towards home, we saw Tien from the front desk at Darling Backpacker’s in the street. He had be
en looking for us, and now we were late! He meant it when he said to be back by 6:00 PM! He grabbed one of our packs; Dani’s shoe wasn’t on properly; we hugged the Ladies good-bye; Martha threw the pack on not taking the time to arrange it for best comfort. We’re running down the street, a good five long blocks, and ended up on the back of two motorbikes WITH OUR PACKS on, Dani still gripping the Christmas Happy to You balloon and Martha working with her driver to find a good spot for the Dutch Lady drinks that Saskia put into her hands at the last minute (for the Duck Ladies had run along with us down the road to wish us a safe journey).
The ride to the bus terminal was not a short or easy one, since we had not a second to adjust our packs into good positions. It was a tough 20-minute ride to the far South bus terminal; we both fell off the bikes once they stopped, relieved to see each other and to be alive. Along with two other Westerneres, we were ushered onto the back of a bus that looked very different from the photo in the lobby of the hotel. (Was this what we would have ended up on had we not been late? We’ll never know.) We got settled, thankful to have made it onto a bus tonight, and spent the first 30 minutes in extreme gratitude for having made it onto the bus and for the wonderful joy of the last few days of friendship and laughter with the Duck Ladies.
As we settled in for the 20-hour bus ride, we fell asleep a bit with the rocking of the bus. It made many stops along the way to fill up the bus or add some wares to the undercarriage of the vehicle. The bus contained mostly local men, with three women besides us and the two before-mentioned men from the West, who were very tall and very blond. All of the long bus rides we’ve been on have stopped every few hours for the passengers to eat and use facilities—this bus only stopped on the side of the road when and where it was convenient for the men. Dani had not wanted another Doner Kebab, and when Martha offered some of hers, Dani said no, certain we’d stop soon for some noodle soup. Thankfully, the yogurt drinks from the Duck Ladies sustained her until our eventual noodle stop in the middle of the night. So sweet of them, and so appreciated at that moment.
We had opportunity to truly appreciate the United States, as well, as we were subjected to the local men smoking their cigarettes on the bus. The Vietnamese women in the front were none too happy about it, either, making faces at them at every occasion. Thankfully, we were by a window and could let fresh air in as needed to try to get the smell away from us. One guy was more considerate, trying to blow the smoke directly out the window; others just blew it right into the bus. With Dani’s hunger and the ill air, the cranky set in—right about 10:00 PM, when the bus was stopped for an hour to load boxes of ti
les that were being packed on the side of the road (where is the efficiency, people?). Yes, we had been sold a nice luxury-bus ticket, but had we been dropped on the cheap locals bus instead? Or did we missed the luxury bus, and they kindly placed us on the next available ride out of town? HaNoi travel Web sites and books are full of stories of people being scammed or ripped off by their hotels or tour guides, so thoughts turned jaded from the joy of the day. And we had witnessed one case of scamming at our hotel, as Dani heard a man in the lobby talking about how many times he had made sure with the front desk people that they would pick up the 
cost of the ride from the airport, only to be told on arrival that ‘this was only for people staying more than two nights). We had also read about hotels that might quote you a room price that includes tax or free breakfast, only to learn that the free items are only on the first day. Dani avoided any misunderstanding by writing down their offerings the first day so that we had it on record. We had no problem checking out with the proper billing, although we had booked two trips through the hotel, so they were probably happy not to mess with us.
Anyway, all of these thoughts were running through Dani’s head in the hour that we sat waiting for the bus to be filled with boxes down the center aisle. In combination with the little sleep she’d had the night before, the Serious Crankies set in, including a bit of a crying spell as the hour wore on. The bus finally started back up again, and the air conditioning was even turned back on for a little while. The boxes of oak panels turned out to be a blessing, as Martha was able to stretch her legs out on top of the boxes to rest in the aisle seat, giving us both more space in the tiny seats. We slept decently during the night. At 3:00 AM, the bus finally stopped for a noodle soup break, and Dani took advantage of it. We also picked up a stack of rice cakes with peanut/lemon grass brittle in the middle to make sure we had some food the next day. With food in her tummy, Dani was finally able to sleep well.
Tuesday, September 4, we awoke around 6:30 AM, and the bus was already stopped. Dani walked around to find that it was indeed the border crossing out of VietNam, but it didn’t open until 7:00 AM. We paid one dollar each for the exit, then went back to stand by the bus to keep an eye on our things. One of the guys from the bus pointed down the hill and asked us to 
go along. Martha at first didn’t realize what he was asking, but what had happened to the other passengers, anyway? We followed the last from the VietNam side down the hill and into the Laotian check point, where we arranged for our 30 USD visas. We were asked to pay, in the Laotian currency of kip, about an extra dollar to get our passports back, for unknown reason, but we ended up paying in baht since we had no more single dollar bills and had yet to exchange money for kip.
As we left the building, the same gentleman from the bus service was coming up the hill to get us, and we three jogged back to the bus and were off as the rain came down. We’ve made it to Laos, our eighth country on this adventure! As the bus took off slowly through the mountains of Eastern Laos, we snoozed throug
h the breakfast stop and were eventually back to our thankful selves as we relished the rough black-and-green–toned mountainsides. Martha had been particularly taken with the vast water sources in VietNam, and was thrilled to see the rivers along the roadside in Laos, as well. What stunning beauty!
By 10:00 AM, we were oh, so thankful we had purchased those rice cakes with peanut molasses the night before, as our bellies rumbled. Each of the little rice cakes was rather filling, but we rationed them throughout the day’s journey to make sure that we did not get hungry and cranky. As the hours passed, we stopped another couple of times along the side of the road for restroom breaks. The men were definitely better treated on this bus, as they had an easy time 
of relieving themselves in the rainwater ditches along the roadside and the women had to climb into the brush up hills and down into small valley to find a bit of privacy. Dani had bad thoughts of US-dropped land mines that might be unsuspectingly hidden among the brush, but her urgency overcame the danger and she retained her limbs.
After 21 hours on the road, we finally arrived in Vientiane’s southern bus station, around 4:30 PM—took a saang taew for 1 USD each. As we climbed aboard with the Swedish gents who were also on the bus, Martha took a picture of the ‘Christmas Happy to You’ balloon with Dani to prove it had made it to Laos, but as the truck started, the ‘well-tied’ loop that Dani had created on her bag for the balloon dislodged, and we watched sadly as our remembra
nce of the Duck Ladies floated off. So sad. Dreams of many pictures in front of Lao landmarks floated into the cloudy sky. The Swedish Fish thought it was hilarious, but they had also found great humor in the balloon’s presence since they saw Dani get off of the motocyclo with it the day before! As we journeyed to Vientiane, the Swedish Fish told us that they had been there three years ago and it seemed to have grown substantially even since that time. Martha agreed that the city had been built up quite a lot since her visit in 1999.
In short order, we were dropped off in the center of town, two doors away from the Orchid Hotel, a guest house that had been recommended by both LP and TravelFish.org. We checked into Room #103 just to the right of the top of the stairs, where we got two beds, a hot shower, a desk, cable television, a minifridge, and air conditioning for 15 USD per night. After a shower—perhaps the most important point of the day—we headed off to find an ATM and food. Our version of the SE Asia on a Shoestri
ng LP came out in 2006 and said there was one ATM in the entire country of Laos—when we found an ATM, thinking that it might still be the only one, we found that it did not give us money nor a receipt after Martha put in the request for funds! Ahhhhh. However, up the street and around the corner, we did find another ATM, and this one worked just fine for us. (There turned out to be many ATMs, not only in Vientiane, but also in Vang Vieng and Luang Prabang, Laos—things really do seem to be getting better for the Laotian people!
Next stop, a proper meal. Vientiane is situated along the Mighty, Murky Mekong, and we headed right to the riverside for dinner, to watch sun set, and to enjoy the peace and quiet of Laos, realizing just how much the incessant, constant, overwhelming honking in VietNam had begun to wear on our nerves. Dinner was lovely as we r
eturned to a more Thai-influenced cooking style, which should be read as SPICY! Martha had yellow curry with sticky rice (so fun to pick up with your hands and smoosh into your food!); Dani’s order of a One-Thousand Year Egg was no longer offered for the night, so she had fried pork with 
steamed Chinese vegetables and rice. We took our time, just enjoying the evening air and taking in life off of a bus. Back at the hotel, we realized we were really tired, but not quite ready for bed, so we headed out again to the Full Moon Café, where Dani encountered one of her ‘favorite things from the trip,’ a waterm
elon and lime fruit shake, and Martha finally succumbed to her buffalo-wing addiction (well, sort-of) by ordering the ‘water buffalo wings’!! We passed into night with some Yahtzee but were back to the room to bed by 10:00 PM.
Wednesday, September 5, we took a slow day exploring Vientiane, where Martha took the lead since she knew some of the touristy landscape from her previous visit. In the lobby by mid-day after taking our time to wake up, shower, and dress, we encountered a man sitting on a bench across from the main hotel counter. He began by saying he was ‘poor’ when we returned his query of how he was doing, putting us
a bit on edge from the get-go. He started asking us personal questions about where we were from and how we had slept (not too well with the construction on the place that had started at 7:00 AM!). By the time he asked for our room number (!!), Martha asked him why he wanted to know. “Oh, to clean the room.” He never indicated that he was with the hotel, and the two guys we had seen working the front desk the day before did not speak with us at all. So she responded with a semi-curt, “Oh, no worries, we are just here two nights. No need to clean the room.” And we departed.
We stopped at another café around the corner for coffee and breakfast: apple cinnamon pancakes for Dani, and a luscious egg and ham wrapped in tortilla and covered with cheese like an enchilada for Martha. The waitress poured cold water for us—wow it’s been a long time since a restaurant gave us water—and we unfortunately drank it down, not thinking of the implications of the local tap water. After breakfast, we ventured to the second floor of the restaurant, where a local photogra
pher had posted photos from his journey through the countryside working with the COPE Project, a nonprofit organization that, for just $50, can help a landmine or other amputation victim get the prosthesis needed to have a more normal life. We took down the information to contact this group in the future, and encourage others to consider giving to this great group. So little money that can change a person's life forever!
A bit uncomfortable with the morning’s verbal exchange at the hotel, we decided to drop back by to check on our stuff and also to apply some prickly heat powder to Dani’s back—Asia is hot and wet and causes those of us unaccustomed to these conditions and 21 hours on a bus to break out in a very itchy rash. We were calmed to find random question-asking man from the lobby behind the front desk looking as if he worked there! We were more pleased to find all was well in the room. 
After the last two-days on the bus, we were thrilled to have a long day of walking ahead of us, although you wouldn’t have known it from Martha’s cranky tired mood as the day’s heat wore on. Dani continued to put up with her, having to proverbially kick her out of it only every other minute. (How many of our friends know of Dani’s sainthood?) We walked through the grounds of a beautiful wat around the corner that Martha recognized from her first time in this city (not much us looked the same—there has been an immensity of development in this place in the last eight years) and around the Presidential Palace. The President must not have been home as we saw absolutely no guards on duty. 
We stopped at the local outdoor market in hunt for some silver spoons that we had passed up in Cambodia, to no avail, but were instructed by a kind shop woman how to properly pronounce "silver coffee spoons". The wares in Laos are definable by the exemplary needlework clothing and bags that the women in the mountain villages create. We did not spend too much time in the market as we were still a bit shopped-out from VietNam, and exited down an alley filled with motorbikes. The Laotian Tourist Office was also along thi
s long stretch of road, and we stopped by to find it was an impressive display of information about the different offerings in the country. The staff was equally awesome, as they helped us figure out the local bus schedule to head to Vang Vieng, North of the capital, for the next morning as a price of 20,000 kip (about 2 USD) each. 
Nearing the great Patuxay monument, also known as the ‘Vertical Runway’ (as the Laotian government chose to use concrete gift provided by the United States to create a still-unfinished ‘Arch de Triumph’–style monument in the center of town instead of the airport runway that was intended to advance the economy), we stopped to take photos of the big hunk of concrete. Before we neared the entrance archways, Dani stopped to buy some of her favorite-fruit citru
sy langsarts, where the lady first quoted her a price of 70,000 kip. Confused, Dani looked at the lady to make sure that she understood that the lady wanted about 7 USD for the small pile of fruit, at which point the lady apologized for her zero-error and corrected herself with a charge of 7,000 kip, or about 0.70 USD! As Martha’s crankies continued, she opted to get some green tea and munch on some langsarts while Dani climbed up the vertical runway to see the great view of the city. Looking at Dani’s photos upon her return from her triumphant climb, Martha couldn’t wait to get home to see her old photos and compare them to see how the landscape has changed! 
Further North towards the grand Golden Stupa, we stopped at another temple, which Martha also remembered from her past along this same stretch of road. Vacant the last time she walked by, the grounds were now cluttered with children playing soccer, chasing each other around, or simply gawking at us visitors. A couple of kids followed us for a short time, but we mostly just quietly walked around the large main building and headed back out into the streets in an attempt to disrupt their day as little as possible. 
As we approached the Golden Stupa’s gated entryway, we learned part of the reason for Martha’s cranky disposition, as her stomach started to violently cramp and she headed off to the bathroom. We know better than to drink tap water! What were we thinking at breakfast? The moment passed, however, with just occasional lingering pain as we walked up and around the massive pointy monument. Around the walled 
outbanks of the Golden Stupa, we found an impressive art display from a local and internationally renowned artist, Khamsouk Keumingmuang. We enjoyed seeing his impressive and colorful views of local Laotian life, as well as images of Angkor and a few other international sites. Martha commented that she would love to pick one of the paintings up, as she could imagine someday she would find a collection from this man among the National Galleries we have so been enjoying. 
Exiting, we walked to the right to get a closer look at the nearby temple, stopping for a few moments to speak with a young English-language Laotian student, who asked us where we were from, what kinds of jobs we had at home, and the like. But Martha yearned for the hotel room, and Dani’s tummy also began to feel a bit off, so we talked with the tuk-tuk driver out
side of the temple, who quoted us 40,000 kip to get back to the hotel. Four dollars! It was not that far, and the fee was twice as much as it had cost us to get from the more-distant bus station to the hotel the day before. Now, all prices are negotiable in Laos, and he started to bring the price down, even showing us a sheet of laminated paper stating that the local union had set a price at 30,000 kip; he would take us for 30,000 kip. Frustrated with the initial attempt to overcharge us on 
a ‘set price,’ we decided it was best to walk back, and ignored him as he followed us out towards the gate, even bargaining down to 15,000 kip. Since none of these tactics will change until foreigners refuse to engage in the nonsense (we feel), we stuck with our footpath for better or worse. 
Dani’s belly had seriously settled down by the end of our talk outside the wat with the local student, so we were fine to walk. School was just letting out, so we enjoyed seeing the lives of waiting-for-our-ride students lined up against the outer white walls of the school grounds in their uniform white shirts and blue trousers or skirts. Kids here seem to love the same things as kids at home: Dora the Explorer, ice cream, balloons, and a timely ride from their parents. The streets were busy, but we loved it as there were fewer motorbikes and NO HONKING. When we go
t to a restaurant with air conditioning, we stopped in for a drink and something sweet. Martha had a chocolate chip sundae and amazing cantaloupe fruit shake. Dani had sweet red beans in soy milk with ice. Again, we were served water, and again, without thinking, we downed several glasses each as our thirst overtook us. (What is WRONG WITH US?) 
Feeling better, and with the wearing heat no longer an issue as the day began to close into evening, we stopped along the way to gaze at the Black Stupa and were in for a treat!! The sunset behind the ancient monument was like nothing we’d ever seen before—above the lining of the clouds that hid the end-of-day sun, we saw what we can only describe as a small, daytime version of the Northern Lights. Dani explained it best, perhap
s, as looking like a ‘rainbow factory’ where angels are putting together the colors needed to make rainbows. Along the upper edge of the clouds were neon streaks of green and blue on one side/red, orange, and yellow on the other, shifting and changing as we watched. As we took photos in poor attempt to capture the moment, we ended up in conversation with a Lao gentleman who
was waiting to pick his wife up from her work at the American Embassy just down the alley. He had never seen such a sight before, either, and joined us to enjoy the light show. He suggested that we might have an even better view by the river, but we didn’t want to miss a moment, which was a good decision as we never would have made it that far downtown before the phenomenon had ended. 
As darkness crept in, we walked back to the riverside for dinner, passing the locals at their community aerobics and intending to pick out treats from various vendors of the riverside night market. But we ended up stopping at the first place that we came to, which had fresh roses and ambiance from candles placed in the bottom of old water bottles set on the plastic tables. Dinner was lovely—Martha enjoyed the local specialty of laap salad with sticky rice; Dani had meat with a chili and basil sauce. We sat near a table of Japanese ladies who were enjoying the Japanese-language skills of the one of the local guys. 
After we left, we dropped by the hotel to grab the computer, but made it to the Wi-Fi café that we’d identified earlier in the day just as it was closing. So we opted to hit an Internet café to let the family know we were just fine and to check on some other items (including our bank account to make sure that the ATM we had visited earlier that did not work had not charged us for funds we did not receive). All was well, but Dani still 
took the extra step of writing our bank to let them know about the incident. We spent about 75 minutes each on the computers, which cost us all of 7,500 kip each (0.75 USD)! Back in the room, our bellies were once again rumbling and angry, so we relaxed in front of the television and eventually made it to sleep. Back on the road tomorrow! Much love,
Martha and Dani
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