As alluded to previously, our hope was to reach Savannakhet before the sun came down on us.  This seemed relatively straightforward, a seemingly direct line between Vinh and our destination were there.  As can happen in Asia, simplicity was overrated. The journey began with us seeking out a ride at 2.30am in Vinh.  Cracking out our best Vietnamese, we were told there would be no bus til another day.  So instead we hired a taxi for the ride up to Cau Treo, the border town.  We arrived after a bizarre winding journey through rural hillsides, deposited at a town checkpoint with some friendly guards at 4.30.  The border doesn’t open til 7.  So the waiting game began.

Dawn neared, so we took to our feet again, intent to make the border crossing.  We learned we were left on the outskirts of Cau Treo and exchanged greetings with the adorable kids biking their ways off toward school.  Finding the center of town, we also found we were quite far from the actual border, to the tune of 35 kilometers.  Cleverly standing alongside the road, a truck bound for Lak Sao, a market town 50 kilometers into Laos, stopped to give us a lift.  Naturally we had to grow laden down with cargo and passengers and the 5 seats were occupied by 10 people at peak capacity.  We picked up a load of iced fish and watched a man run down and slap a woman around while she smiled and talked.  Not sure what was happening.  But then that is life.

The actual border, it seems, was atop a mountain pass, lonely and isolated.  The guards took their time examining our documents before asking for a dollar per stamp.  Nothing like a little graft and corruption to start the day.  Avoiding a cow wandering through the road, we gradually lost our passengers until arrival at our destination.  Lak Sao is a small town overwhelmed by dust, life centering around its bus station – cum -mall encircled by an assortment of wooden shacks.  One hour of my life was spent here, waiting on our saengthaw to fill up.  And then we were off.

A saengthaw is a pick up truck fitted with several rows of benches and a canopy over the bed, serving as an open air bus.  It sounds like a neat idea and an enjoyable way to travel. So once more, I was wrong.  Exposure to the elements is just that and we inhaled heaps of dust and exhaust from that.  Exhaustion reached both Tori and I here and most of the trip was passed asleep, waking up only to see farms and wooden shacks before nodding off again.  At the end, we met a T in the road intersecting the main north-south highway, stopping for a soup at a roadside shack before hitching on a southern-bound bus.

This was done easily and for the next three hours I spoke off and on with a pleasant guy who was a policeman coming down from Vientiane.  We watched a movie on the bus tv, a B-grade horror movie from, where else, but America.  We seem to export all our trashiest items to the rest of the world.  The movie wound its way to a heartstopping conclusion and we were left to contemplate its deeper themes for the last bit of the trip into town.  Arrival in to Savannakhet was smooth and the local tuk-tuk drivers hustled us off to downtown. For those counting, that’s a night bus, taxi, hitchhike van, saengthaw, bus, and tuk tuk for the day.

Savannakhet is not a big city, fitting for a country that itself is small and rural by nature.  It sprawls out on the Mekong’s bank and befits the charming, relaxed pace of life among the Lao.  Our guesthouse was an informally run former French colonial relic with aged fans and wall paint that seemed appropriate.  All told, we arrived just a hair past 24 hours since our departure from Hanoi. It was one of the most exhausting, bizarre, and strangely enjoyable experiences I have had out on the road.