A wonderful pastime - the bus ride to northern Laos

We should now go hiking in the highlands. Booking the tourist bus was done quickly; the next morning I was picked up from the hotel on time by a tuk-tuk and driven to the bus station. There the people were then divided into their respective directions. I was looking forward to a very modern vehicle equipped with air conditioning when it was explained to me that no one else wanted to go north except me today and that I should take a ride on another bus. I was packed up again and driven to another bus station. There I was allowed to sit in an older model of medium-sized bus at the very back on the right (actually my favorite seat, but as it turned out, the seats from the rear axle onwards are particularly susceptible to potholes). More people got on and after another half hour it finally started. Nobody really noticed the only non-Asian woman, but I was happy about a less touristy experience. Due to my weak bladder, I sincerely hoped that I would have enough opportunities to empty it during the planned 9-hour journey.

The driver loves loud music, like pretty much all Laotians, as I later find out, and so the top 100 was immediately put on and, depending on the driver's mood, quickly moved on to the next song, so that at times each song, which I personally could hardly distinguish, were only played for a few seconds each. The other 12 passengers didn't seem to mind. Neither was the bird and cage that came along with us and chirped every now and then and the baby that rode along in its mother's arms for 6 hours and barely made a sound the entire time.

The two co-pilots (note, the woman with the oversized fanny pack is the boss and takes the payments) also have no say in the music selection. Or is it because of the potholes that the songs jump and the volume had to be adjusted upwards to maintain the mood? I thought the music was wonderful, it beautifully accompanied the view that I was constantly taking in. Since the road was sometimes so bad that I and another passenger were thrown from our seats to such an extent that we lost all contact with the seat and sometimes landed very painfully on our backsides, other activities such as sleeping or reading were out of the question anyway.

After almost an hour, the bus braked and suddenly stopped in Wallachia. While I was still thinking about what might happen next, almost all of the passengers got out and, without much shame, relieved themselves next to each other in the knee-high bushes. So they seem to be dealing with this very openly. This suits me and my confirmation bubble very much! ;O)

After another hour it was time for lunch. We stopped at a "restaurant". Since the display didn't really appeal to me, I stood around undecided until the bus manager asked me to eat something. I remembered that the Norwegian had told me about his love for noodle soup and since I recognized it on a sign, I decided to go for it. I quickly copied the technique of using chopsticks to place the tagliatelle on the spoon and then eating it from the lady opposite and lo and behold, I didn't do that bad. After all, the pot was almost empty.

While the weather once again couldn't decide between sun and rain, the landscape changed noticeably. When approaching Luang Prabang I already saw how hilly it is, but it's only on the pass road that you really get a feel for how much nature there is here.

Despite the view, the journey eventually drags like chewing gum. After 6 hours, a couple gets in and squeezes into the back seat between the chic Laotians with white canvas shoes (that doesn't make any sense here!), who constantly covers their noses with a cloth and has to pee even more often than me, and me. He speaks English and is happy to answer my questions about the country. However, his girlfriend is not feeling well at all and vomits twice, as does another fellow traveler. So there is a reason why the bus manager has the plastic bags at hand. The only way I can explain why people here are so prone to taking the bus is that many people only have a scooter or a motorcycle here in the country and are simply not used to the shaking of the bus.

The 9 hours then turned into 10 and unloading/reloading various boxes and bags onto the tuk-tuks that take you from the bus station into the city also took up some time. I arrived in Luang Namtha pretty exhausted.

Unfortunately there are no photos from the day, as I simply don't want to be too touristy in some situations. It's enough if you can see at first glance that I'm not from here. I don't have to forcefully pull out my camera.

Even though I had a lot of fun on the bus trip, I don't want to waste too much time on the bus in the future because the day can't be used for anything else. The flight has already been booked for the next stop...