Currently sitting on a hilltop at an ecolodge in the middle of nowhere Vietnam aka Mù Cang Chài province. There were two places to stay in this area. After first checking into the other one I left and arrived here, I clearly made the right choice. I love these strange places in the country. I am surrounded by rice paddies, perfectly formed in mud like lego blocks. Gravity powered irrigation systems feed the perfectly flat paddies allowing the water buffalos to graze with ease. It is exactly what the doctor ordered.
When I left Phong Na my intention was to cross into Laos at the Nâm Cân Border Crossing. Just about in the middle of the two countries. This would enable me to have a straight shot for the golden triangle. The most remote part of Laos with very little visitors. Known historically for opium production during the Vietnam war, seemed like a place for some adventure. 300km to my destination in Laos then another 2000km loop through northern Laos while riding parallel to the border with China.
I loaded up my bike and got my necessary supplies - a sleeve of Oreos, 2 baguettes, and 2 liters of water. Purchasing the bread alone seems to be an odd transaction. The old women always laugh at me in confusion when I ask.
The adrenaline rush as I pack my bike is always a treat I enjoy. I have a system and everything has its place. Fueled by the leaving of a location I’ll probably never see again for one I have never seen before never gets old.
It was cold as I left and a light mist was in the air. I am glad I packed my rain jacket and found those rain pants in Saigon. The pants fit the waist but lack length. In riding position barely reaching my calfs but its better than a poncho.
As I leave town the western population drops off immediately. I am back on the Ho Chi Minh road and loving it. Every little town I pass more little kids yell out “Hello biker!” and hold out their hands for a high five. I slow down and attempt to graze their hands. I see them cheer in my side mirrors.
After a few hours I reach the last town in Vietnam before the border. 60km to Laos up the mountain pass. I grab some Pho from a woman who runs a restaurant in her living room. (FYI Pho isn’t pronounced “fuu” as I learned at home but as “fuur”) The kids are watching some weird youtube show and even if I understood the language I doubt I could follow the story line. The family is kind and accommodating. Gives me a welcomed chance to warm-up before the next section.
The road is a motorcyclist dream, twisty as it climbs the mountain. Careful into the blind corner but so fun. Leaning the bike as far as I can while hammering the throttle as I exit the turns. As the road climbs the fog increases, visibility decreases, roads slim, and curves tighten. Truck traffic increases and the remnants of crashes are littered in the corner of every corner. Broken glass, plastic headlights, and taillights are everywhere. I pass a tractor trailer carrying grain who’s load broke loose. A group of cows help the driver clear the road by eating through it. There isn’t much traffic, I am most definitely the only western and one of a few motorbikes.
While I can’t see much I’m sure the views are incredible. To my right a sheer rock face, to my left a steep rock and mud embankment complete with waterfalls. I lose service and with it my navigation but there are no other roads to make a wrong turn. Trucks with Laos license plates and bumper stickers confirm I’m getting close.
After climbing for 2 hours with visibility at its lowest and elevation at its highest, I see something faint in the fog. A van appears suddenly ahead of me and I get on the brakes hard. With the rear wheel sliding I find a small gravel patch to stop on the shoulder next to the van. Two feet to my right is a drop with its bottom hidden by a blanket of fog. Per my odometer it was 4km to the border, a 4km traffic jam seemed unlikely. I ride the shoulder splitting traffic to avoid being rear ended by the next truck coming in hot.
The traffic jam is only eight vehicles long. Two vans and six large tractor trailers at a complete stop. Arriving at the front some sort of Vietnamese official stops me. He doesn’t speak English but points ahead and I see what has caused the traffic jam. A landslide was triggered by the rain over the past few days and there is a single backhoe clearing the path.
A boulder the size of a Jetta has landed on the edge of the road and the men have started a fire next to it to keep warm. I can hear the sound of rocks continuing to sliding from above. The backhoe is filling its shovel with the loose dirt and rock, pivoting 180 degrees and emptying it over the cliff. The debris covering the guardrail below which was once in place along the road.
To my right a group of men from the telecom company are splicing fiber. I recognize the equipment from my time at AT&T. Can’t say it was completed with the same protocols as AT&T taught but it works. Squatting, having a smoke, and along the side of the road open to the elements, they repair the connections. The wires aren’t buried first and lay on the side of the road exposed. They just need to get comms back up as soon as possible, dealing with the longterm functionality later.
To my left is a group of drivers who ask to take pictures with me. The officer struggles to throw a leg over my bike and has someone take a photo. It’s a serious situation but one they have encounter before and everyone is relaxed. There is no caution tape blocking off the work site. Drivers and workers pass by the backhoe timing their passes as the operator scoops another load of debris.
It was one of the sketchiest places I have ever been but a lot of fun. Felt as if there could be another slide at any moment but no one was concerned and I felt comfortable in their confidence.
One of the drivers tries to communicate with me through google translate. Whatever he was trying to say didn’t make sense but he was determined to get his point across.
Suddenly there is commotion and everyone is animated. I see on the other side of the backhoe, coming from Laos is a line of Lexus SUVs. The officer instructs me to get on my bike and start it up, confused I follow directions. A large SUV suddenly passes the boulder from the Laos side. One of the drivers from the other side has bribed the Vietnamese officers and the backhoe driver to take a short break so he can get his caravan through. This enables me to quickly pass as I am nimble on my bike.
I mount the bike and the driver who tried to use google translate finally gets his point across. He wants me to take his friend on the back of my bike to the border. I motion him to hop on. Pushing my baguettes and Oreos back he quickly clears a space to sit and we are off. The road was by no means clear but the dirt bike makes short work of the narrow pass.
Freedom! I am on the other side with my new friend. I have no idea his name or what he expected me to do but there is only one road. After a few hundred meters with papers in hand, he taps my shoulder to stop and waves me good bye.
To call the border station a ghost town would be to assign an inflated population. There is nothing. Shops are closed and the checkpoints are empty. The lack of any activity and dense fog made an eerie scene I will never forget.
I see another traffic jam, all truckers heading for Laos. This the Vietnamese exit border and while international, clearly not often used for tourists. The building is enormous and looks like something out of a communist propaganda movie. Huge towering concrete arched structure staffed by a handful of men in uniform. Sixty truckers with their twenty trucks, ten border guards, and me. Confusion doesn’t begin to explain how I was going to navigate this one. Also a bit of fear due to a scam I learned about during my research.
When I was researching this trip there are very conflicting reports around border crossings - specifically Vietnam/Laos. Some were able to cross with no issues, others denied, and others told tales of being scammed. My conclusion after speaking with a few travelers from each camp pointed to an issue of their driving legality. My conclusion was that Laos was more strict with their driving licenses than their Vietnamese neighbors. They honored the Vietnamese drivers license but when travelers without a Vietnamese license tried to cross they encountered problems and were subject to an established scam. Feeling confident with my Vietnamese license I felt exempt from any concern.
Driving a vehicle across any international border requires two elements; the entry/exit passport stamps for the visitor and the proper paper work from the vehicle. Sometimes the vehicle will require additional import/export taxes, insurance, or possibly a bribe. You need to get the exit stamps before you receive the entry stamp for the next country. The land between the two border stations is, to my understanding, international space - a bit of no mans land.
The scam is run by the border guards of Vietnam and Laos. Vietnam will let you out of the country with the proper exit stamp but when you get to Laos they will allow the visitor in but not the vehicle due to legality of the license. The visitor is now stuck. Vietnam will not let you into the country until you have the exit stamp from Laos. Laos won’t let you into the country to get the entry stamp, without an entry stamp there is no exit stamp. Stuck in this no mans land someone will come from the sideline and offer to purchase the vehicle for an absurd low ball offer. Without any other options, the visitor is forced to sell. It’s fucked and while aware of it, optimistic that I was safe armed with my legal driving status.
With my passport, pocket of strategic cash, and license, I approached the first border station - Export Transit. Huddling with a group of truckers I wait my turn in line. There really isn’t a line but my presence allows me a bit of privilege. The truckers are all lead by crossing agents holding stacks of passports. The passport owners standing off to the side of the building waiting to be cleared. I get to the front of the line and they point me to the other office. Once at the other office a guard asks if I am on a motorbike and once confirmed, denies my exit stamp. Confused I show my license and enthusiastically tells me to get lost.
I find a customs agent and he brings me back to to the Export Transit office. I need export docs for the bike with the stamp before they will give me my passport exit stamp. My spidey sense starts tingling, this isn’t going to go right.
Through google translate I speak with the border guard. He takes my passport, owners card, and license; this is all my leverage. You are never supposed to give all documents at once. Once they have all your docs often they may ask for a bribe to return them. A few tense moments pass and he prints a piece of paper and stamps it. Feeling good about it and with my docs in my possession my anxiety subsides slightly.
On the other side of the glass there are six border guards at different desks. One with the biggest hat, who I assume is the boss, smiles at me as the guard hands me the piece of paper. The paper is in Vietnamese and I can only read my name and relevant information about me and the bike. VIN number, passport number, make, etc.
After handing me the document in as clear English as he can, tells me that he was giving me the document but it was fake. I was to destroy the document as soon as I left Vietnam. Communicating this by motioning ripping the paper into pieces. “Destroy this as soon as you are across”. Aye Aye captain. There was no chance I was destroying fake export paperwork, this is too good for my scrapbook. I would however be able to keep it hidden. I was then waved to exit.
Hopping back on the bike I make my way to the exit document checking gate. Within the gate was the boss with the big hat, again smiling. I still needed an exit stamp on my passport from the guy who denied me previously. Leaving the bike I run back to the office.
As soon as I enter the same guard is there and immediately shoos me away. As he is telling me off the guard with the big hat opens the door to the booth. They exchange some words and begrudgingly the guard takes my passport and places the exit stamp.
At this point I start to get nervous again. Either the guy with the big hat is my guardian angel or he sees a big payday with my bike. I can’t tell and there is only one way to find out, by attempting to enter Laos.
Exiting Vietnam and entering the no mans land I am alert. The fog is dense and my heart is beating fast running through possibly scenarios. It’s a 50/50 chance I lose my bike or get through, either I do or I don’t. I have USD and Dong of various denominations on my person in different pockets. There was no chance in hell I was losing my bike. If I couldn’t bribe my way across I would pay a trucker heading to Vietnam to help me load the bike into his rig and ferry me back. I felt a $100 note would make short work of any situation should I need to exercise this option.
The Laos border is exactly as I expected, shit. There are no proper barriers, just a rope pulled taught to stop drivers, released when authorized to proceed. I slow approaching the rope and it drops. I park my bike with other cars off to the side in plain view. I’ve read stories of people pulling MacGyver moves by hiding their bikes and blending in with bus passengers to ensure safe passage. If discovered though the consequences were severe. There were no tourist busses and surprisingly I couldn’t pass as a Vietnamese trucker.
Entering the border entry things are going smoothly and I am explained my options for the visa. As I am filling out the paperwork, moments from finishing, someone enters the booth and whispers to the guard I was working with. He snitched that I had a bike and the tone of the conversation changed quickly. “You are traveling via motorbike?”
I am told that it is not possible for me to enter Laos with a Vietnamese bike. Telling me that Laos does not honor any motorbike from Vietnam. Saying that if it was a US plated bike I could cross because Laos and USA have an agreement in place to honor the registration. Such an agreement no longer exists between Vietnam and Laos. It’s apparently a new law and news to me. As I stated previously, I believed the issue rests with the legality of the driver and not with the actual vehicle.
He proposed coming back on a bus or “gifting” the bike in order to cross. ABORT ABORT. At this point I needed to get out of there and back to Vietnam. I acted surprised and played dumb asking if I could pay a “tax” of some sort. Nothing is working and they were clearly growing tired of me as their answers got short.
From where the desk is situated I can’t see my bike. I am worried that it won’t be there when I leave. I pace back and forth keeping and eye on it best I can. The bike does have a GPS tracker module but without cell service, I can’t track it if it is grabbed.
I am now in a pickle. They have my passport and taking me for a ride for visa fees. They issue me single entry visa with entry stamp and immediately pass me to the other side of the building for my exit stamp. I am now completely blind to my bike. They process my exit stamp quickly and I run back to my bike. I put in my earphones, helmet, and drive through the grass around the rope barrier. I can hear them screaming out at me but pretend I don’t hear as I pin the throttle back through no-mans land and on to Vietnam.
Total time in Laos, 4 minutes. Total cost, $38.
Approaching the Vietnam entry gate there are a line of vehicles having their Laos exit papers checked. I have my passport visa stamp but don’t have my vehicle stamp. With no way around the gate I wait in line. As the gate opens I follow a truck closely and get across. Instantly the guards come out in force to stop me.
I rolled the dice, basing my logic that if they were going to give me trouble for lack of vehicle stamp from Laos, the border agent was in more trouble for not being quick enough with the gate to stop me from entering the country. I was right. While they were yelling at me the guard with the big hat told them to let me alone. Seemed he was waiting for me and knew what was waiting for me at the Laos office. Curious to see how it was to play out.
Again I enter the immigration office, now on the entry side. I present my passport to the guard opened to my one-year multi-entry Vietnam visa. He flips to the stamp page and without questioning the length of stay in Laos, stamps me in without asking about the bike.
Relieved, I drive away from the border. I pull off to the side of the road, thankful to still have my bike. I do believe I was ripe for the scam but also believe the license provided me some leverage. The license is so rare for a foreigner to have it is assumed I must know someone within the government. Someone who they don’t want to know their name.
Now late in the day and I have to get back down the mountain and through the landslide again. The same crew is waiting at the site of the landslide and recognize me, no one is surprised I am back.
Thinking through the experience, maybe the first guard who denied me exit was trying to protect me. Who knows. All I know is I wouldn’t have believed him even if he communicate with me. I had to experience it for myself even knowing the risks.
I made my way back to the same town I stopped at for lunch. The rain had picked up, the roads were more slick, and it was colder. Exhausted I pull into town and find a hotel. It’s cheap and I have my own room. I go back to the same woman who fed me earlier. This time her home filled with men drinking beer and smoking tobacco from bamboo bongs. I don’t know why they smoke tobacco out of these bongs but they love it. On the TV the kids turn on the same strange show from before. I watch again as the main character shows us the dog house for her pug, I still cant make sense of the cut scenes.
At the hotel I am a bit of a celebrity. I might be the first westerner they have had as a guest and in addition there is some sort of high school sports team staying there. They spot me and I can hear them talking and readying their phones. Climbing the stairs to my room I feel as if am being stalked. Finally acknowledging their presence the girls let out in unison “Selfie?!” The following 10 minutes involves us finding perfect lighting while compensating for the camera angle and hight difference between us.
A bit defeated the following morning as my expectations for the experience weren’t met. I didn’t do any research for northern Vietnam and was trying to get off the backpacker circuit. I made my way to a place called Ninh Binh about 2 hours south of Hanoi. The drive was all major highways and a lot of boring miles.
Arriving at Ninh Binh I selected an eco lodge that was outside the town. I wanted some quiet as I regrouped and closed out my 4th month of travel. Honestly, I was feeling a bit down and it as different than the tiredness I had felt previously. I read about travel burnout but for the first time I was really bored and dare I say depressed. I considered alternatives to my trip and questioned my motives for the entire thing.
Feelings of guilt, foolishness, and failure filled my head. I retired to my bunk and really couldn’t be asked to do anything. Isolated I stayed in my head for the day and tried to find the excitement that once filled my days. It happened fast and without warning, I was blindsided. Couldn’t figure out why I was feeling the way I was. I could do anything I wanted in the world but somehow felt trapped.
The day picked up as when I finally left my bunk a friend I met a few weeks ago had randomly just arrived. He is also on a long term trip and it was nice to connect with someone who could appreciate how I was feeling. It was an unexpected turn of events but was what I needed. The feelings were still there but had subsided briefly.
In the morning I set off to see the sights of the area. It is known as the Ha Long Bay but on land. First joining a Vietnamese family on a boat tour through the caves and around the countryside. They didn’t speak English but were welcoming and happy to have me on their boat. I couldn’t quite figure out the relation to one another but the women had packed snacks and offered me everything. Humbled by their generosity I accepted some snacks but pretended to be full once they brought out the Tupperware of meat. I recognized some of it from the Chinese new year celebrations and wasn’t keen on the spam snacks again.
The countryside was beautiful and the boat ride was fun. There are two boat tours in the area, one that is frequented by Westerners and the one by the locals. I went to the locals spot and while I was the only Westerner and didn’t understand anything it was a great time.
Karaoke is big in Northern Vietnam and is everywhere, the boats were no exception. One of the boats in our contingent had brought their own battery powered speaker and provided the soundtrack for the morning. While the family and I couldn’t communicate we did agree that we needed to get away from the karaoke party and hustled through a few stops to create some distance. The remainder of the day I spent climbing the pagodas of the limestone cliffs in the countryside.
In my downtime I spent the hours reading, something that I haven’t done in a while. I found myself spending way to much time on instagram and wasting it on general fuckery. Making excuses that I was tired after riding and was an acceptable way to spend time. It struck me as odd, trying to understand what I was attempting to distract myself from. On a trip of a lifetime and wasting it the same way I’d pass time during work while dreaming of such an experience.
I had lost my inspiration or realized I was never inspired to begin with and just looking for a way out of my day to day. I have eclipsed the point of traveling or vacation, this is my day to day, this is my life. I lost being present and the happiness that accompanied it. Panicking once the high of a new place was lost like a junkie. I got into a familiar routine of no routine and was mad at myself for allowing it to happen. Longing for a routine again and some sort of stability, the things I was simultaneously running from.
I was at odds with the same voice in my head that I was listening to guide me. I’d become my own worst enemy, again. Questioning the reason for doing it at all, the reasons for spending all my money I worked so hard. What was it for? A question I still don’t have an answer but providing another layer of perspective to consider.
Leaving the countryside for Hanoi I needed to get some things in order for visas and the eventual selling of my bike. I met with prospective buyers and charted out my remaining weeks before I move on. The plan is to ride into the northern most part of Vietnam in a 2000km loop back to Hanoi.
Again, I couldn’t be asked to do any of the tourist sights of Hanoi. I spent the few days people watching and drinking coffee. I love watching the older tourist with their high-end cameras and long telephoto lenses. A camera suited for safari taking pictures of overloaded scooters from the comfort of a western hotel balcony. I am fully aware of the cynicism and hate when I get this way, especially nowadays. I guess everywhere is a safari if you’re a spectator in a foreign place. I don’t want to be a spectator but the language barrier and transient nature of the experience makes it difficult but not impossible.
Setting off the following morning for Halong Bay, a place that is certainly on the hit list of any tourist visiting Vietnam. Electing to stay on the outskirts of town, trying to avoid the beaten backpacker path. I got stopped by the police for the first time in a while and played dumb. Speeding was the charge, 60km in a 50km apparently. He had me get off the bike and take a seat in their makeshift office. Explaining the charge on a notepad and licking their lips while eying my wallet. While I don’t deny I was “speeding” I was certainly selected for my bike in the pack of other motorbikes passing the check point. Demanding my passport and presenting my Vietnamese license their tone quickly changed. I provided an apology and was quickly released without payment as other motorist were extorted out of their money.
I have come to learn the public opinion of the police is quite low. Becoming a police officer is opting into an organization of known corruption. The officers are seen as the “stupids” of society unfit for other work. Often they or their families pay to be accepted into service. Officers recover the initial expense by extorting the citizens on baseless crimes. I have met far too many tourist who have been driven by the police to multiple ATMs in order to pay exorbitant bribes averaging 3m Dong (~$130). If they can’t pay the threat of jail is always looming. It’s unfair and rubs me the wrong way but it’s the way of life here. I wonder how long it can last. I have no remorse when I show my license and their payday is ruined. At the same time the hypocrisy of presenting a government document that I acquired through corruption in order to fight another version of corruption is also not lost on me. I am not exempt from judgement, we are all playing the game.
The lodge was relatively empty. It is situated along the banks of a river which fills and drains based on a tide schedule I can’t understand. There is a ship yard down the street who’s boats sit in the mud when the tide recedes and against any laws of science I understand, float when the tide returns.
Glad that I elected to stay out of the tourist district there aren’t any crowds. The lodge arranged a fishing and boat tour to a secluded cave. The weather was foggy but warm and the water was calm. The cave was fun to explore and would be a rock climbers dream. We fished with nets which didn’t yield much but was fun. On an isolated island we searched for crabs and clams. My old friend the sand flea was there and my legs were feasted upon. Quickly I remembered why I was avoiding the beaches.
There I met another traveler from the states, the same age and who was also 5 months into a year long trip. We had similar present feelings but had arrived at very different ideas or thoughts. He was making good on a promise he made to a younger version of himself to take the trip before the dreaded 30th birthday. A financial analyst of sorts who took a leave from his job and was struggling with a decision to return within a year before his seniority and associated benefits would expire. We shared our love for excel and money. Two things that certainly haven’t been lost since starting to travel.
We discussed our intentions when we left and how life has played out thus far. Seemed we had arrived at similar viewpoints but were at the same time very different. Discussed definitions of success and what that would mean in our later years. He spoke about how when he was younger he had a drive to have an impact and that fire was dying as the days passed. Struggling with his definition of mediocrity and what that meant to him now and to the younger version of himself. Now dreaming of being a simple man, having a family and being a good provider. Questioning if the 9-5 life was the worst path in life. Something his younger self would have scoffed at and written off without a second thought. And if that’s how it plays out, was the experience of the trip a waste? The money spent could have been used to better position himself for such a life.
Sharing I didn’t think it was a waste if that was how things played out. He couldn’t be confident in his decision if he didn’t arrive at it on his own. Everything had to occur in the past for there to be a present to build a future. Providing a comparison to people I meet who have fallen into that life and never made a conscious to start but continue down the path.
I told him I felt uninspired and in a rut of traveling. Surprised about how quickly everything becomes ‘normal’. The lack of excitement and quantifiable progress leaving me feeling like I am wasting time and resources. Him countering with he ebbs and flows of being high on new experiences and returning to ‘normal’. The feelings are to be expected and to focus on changing it up to find that spark. Really the issue is with me and not the places I have decided to spend my time. The places are places, it’s the attitude, perception, and expectation I bring with me to them.
It’s good for things to be hard. Provides perspective and new ways to approach challenges. It’s not like I am suffering by any means. It was nice to be vulnerable and have a connection with someone who could understand my perspective. It’s all in my head which is influencing the experience of the present.
I had to pass through Hanoi again on my way north to get some more supplies. I have noticed myself getting sloppy and it finally caught up with me. Leaving things in places unguarded and overly trusting of strangers. I have gone from one side of the spectrum to the other. I spent the night at a hostel and left the tank bag on my bike overnight like I have many times before. I don’t keep much in there overnight but is a great resource when riding for items I want quickly accessible. When I woke up in the morning I found that someone had swiped it. Knowing the answer I asked the front desk if they had removed it and confirmed they hadn’t. Not a huge loss but with it went my tools and my compass I had growing up in boy scouts. I wasn’t even mad which was new for me. It was my fault and showed me maybe I have learned something or changed in some unquantifiable way.
The next destination, where I am now, is one that isn’t in any guidebooks and found it similar to the way I found the Cardamons in Cambodia. It was a beautiful 8 hour ride into the country. I felt the happiness return to me as I howled and rode through the switchbacks. Past the small villages and perfectly manicured rice paddies. Watching famers bent over individually planting each grain of rice in the muddy fields. Using water buffalo and the Swiss army knife engines to churn the mud and plow the fields. I found myself letting out an Owen Wilson inspired “wow” as I stopped to look over the valleys. I’m feeling better than I was just a few days ago and plan on holding onto this feeling while being more aware of the new ‘normal’.
I’ll set off in the morning continuing to head north. The end of my time in SE Asia is coming into view and while I am very excited for the next leg, I intend on fully enjoying every moment now until then.
-Joe