Crossing the Vietnam-Laos Border, a Day to Remember

April 14th, 2024.

They point at me with their guns. That is, water guns. The have their battle stations right by the street. Buckets, tanks, guns, little plastic bags filled with water. A whole aquatic arsenal ready to be deployed at anyone daring to cross their section of street. This is Bun Pi Mai, Laos’ new year. People celebrate by soaking each other with water. It’s also Laos hottest month, so that makes perfect sense.

And how did I end up in Laos during this day? Well, it happened to be the same day I was crossing the Vietnam-Laos border. At one point, a kid with a water gun had me running down the street, chasing me around Xepon, one of the towns close to Laos’ border.

The day started early in Lao Bao, the border town between Vietnam and Laos, on the Vietnamese side. Today, I’m committed to getting to Savannakhet in Laos, whatever comes my way. I have 1,000,000 Vietnamese Dong in my pocket, what I think will be (barely) enough to cross the border. “If I need more, I will figure it out”, I think to myself.

I walk 1.5 km to the border control in Vietnam. I’m nervous about this walk, but on the way the border, its mostly people about their business, and container trucks waiting to cross. Once at the border, I get to the first checkpoint. A Vietnamese guard asks for my passport. “Where’s the Vietnamese visa?” I show it to him on my phone. He is friendly, lets me pass with no problems. Good, this started well.

Second control. This time for the Vietnamese exit stamp. The guard at the exit stamp booth shows me a 50,000 Dong bill. “50,000 to stamp passport”. I was expecting this “extra” fees, but also, did not prepare for this? I tell them, “Only enough cash for Laos visa”. They insist. I tell them the same, which is technically true, and just give them a blank stare. They look at me, waiting for me to give in, reach for my wallet or something, but I wait. They stamp my passport without saying another word. Second test, passed.

The third and last Vietnamese control, easy, just a guard who checks my passport. He is serious, with a smirk on his face. It’s fine, I think, he is just playing though. And with that, I cross Vietnam border. I’m officially out of the country. Yes! Leave any bad energy behind. Now, Enter Laos. It’s early, it’s going well, morale is high. Let’s do this.

I pass by some guards on the Laos border, no one raises their head. It’s fine, just walk slowly and if nobody stops you or yells, keep going. That works for so many situations in life. It’s 8:30 am and I get to the Laos visa on arrival booth. No one inside. I casually walk around the building to look for help. There are some women walking around the border with big fanny packs, probably exchanging currencies. “Wait 5 minutes” a kind lady at another unrelated booth tells me.

While I wait, I go to a little shop in between the two borders. How does this shop work? I go to pay for a canned coffee drink and the cashier tells me the price. In Dong or Kip (Laos currency)? She gives me a look like “What do I care which”. To be fair, they are worth about the same, give or take.

This could my new tradition, having coffee or tea at the border. While crossing the Indian-Nepalese border, the guards invited me to seat down and have chai with them while they checked my papers. But that crossing was way easier, this one, I’m not so sure. Either way, a nice new tradition to have.

The guy at the visa on arrival booth… arrived and started my paperwork. He was not wearing any uniform, and couldn’t care less if he was late or not. It’s 50 dollars for the visa, plus 5 dollars “holiday fee”. Ok, how do I navigate this. “I thought it was 40 USD for Colombians”. He adjusts his sentence. Its 45 USD for the visa plus 5 dollars for the holiday fee. Ok, it’s going to be like that, expected, but again, not devised.

“I don’t have dollars, so how much is that in Dong?” I ask him. He gives me an inflated exchange rate. Expected. According to my research, its 40 dollars, so if I give him that, that will probably fly. I go outside to find the big fanny pack women. I find one, young, kind, and she invites me to seat down in a bench to exchange my money. She states her first price and I try to bring it down. She takes her phone out to show me a number and I see a picture of her on the lock screen. “Ooh pretty” I tell her. She smiles, genuinely. Still, no luck bringing the price down. I check my wallet, I have 1,026,000 Dong cash, that’s all. I show her, and she agrees to give me 40 dollars for that, which was about the same as her ask.

With 40 dollars now, I test my luck and go the visa on arrival booth. “No, its 45 dollars, plus the holiday fee… You know what, just forget the holiday fee, give me 45 dollars” Ok, that’s progress, but I don’t have enough cash. “Go to the ATM outside, get Laos Kip, and pay me in Kip”, this off course, at the inflated exchange rate, something I was not going to have.

The ATM would not give me cash. I tried everything, multiple cards, multiple buttons. Each time, the machine gave me a receipt of the failed transaction. Three cards, not one of them worked. There is a security guard next to the ATM, he says something in Laotian (?), which I don’t understand, but seems encouraging. He is on my side, thank you sir.

I go back to the visa on arrival both, with six or seven failed transaction receipts, see if that will do something. He is having none of it. “Go back to Vietnam then” he tells me. Goes for a checkmate and closes the little booth window. This is where I start to worry. This is where I start to think “Why do I do these things?”. I don’t even think I can go back to Vietnam at this point, bureaucratic wise. Some panic, but I decide to try my luck at the ATM again.

“I did it!” I tell the ATM security guard, who understands zero of my English, but is with me all the way in energy and support. The trick was to withdraw a low amount, one step below the maximum amount in the options. Yes, now I have Kips in my pocket, and I can make this thing work. I come back to the money exchange lady, another person now on my side. She was smiling, being helpful and patience. She was even looking after me in the visa on arrival booth, checking from the distance everything was going ok. No luck, she doesn’t have smalls dollar bills to complete the amount I need. I will have to make one more plea with the visa on arrival guy.

“Ok, I’ll give you 40 dollars and the rest in Kip, how much is that?” He accepts my proposal. I caught him off guard with the proposal, and he gives me a normal exchange rate for the rest. Ok let’s do this, I pass him the 40 dollars and the rest in Kips. He starts counting the money, “This 5 dollar bill is no good”, pointing at a barely visible crease. At this point, I have direct eyesight with the money exchange lady, the one looking out for me. I go to her to change the 5 dollar bill, but she tells me she has no other bills (probably also didn’t one the unaccepted bill).

Ok, enough is enough, it’s time to get this done. I go to the visa on arrival both and tell the guy I don’t have another 5 dollar bill. He closes the window, classic visa or arrival guy move. I have no more cards up my sleeve. I don’t want to keep playing the game. Dare I try to open the little window? I do. On the counter, I put the dollars, the Kips, the paper work, and the passport. “Look, just take it, everything is there. Those five dollars. They are good money, they are good”. He does nothing, then smirks, takes the papers. “Not 100,000 Kip, 130,000 Kip” he says. “Sure, you got change?” I ask. A resounding “Yes”. He takes out his wallet, looks for change, but doesn’t have. Reaches his arm out the booth, moves me aside and calls another lady exchanging money outside. She gives him change, but Vietnamese, so he gives me change in Dong and Kip, not exactly the complete amount, but sure, that’s nothing at this point.

For his closing gesture, he laughs one more time, and trows me the passport. It’s 9:45am. I smile, unfazed by the gesture, walk away to the stamp booth. Mission accomplish, so far. Holiday fee waived. I get so annoying at their extra-official fees, it’s just easier to let them go than to call more attention to the whole ordeal.

At the Laos entry stamp booth, everything goes smoothly. I ask them how to say thank you in Laotian. “Kopchae” I hear, I repeat it back, and they love it.

Border crossed, passport stamped, Kip on pocket. This is freedom. I think of the money exchange lady, and how her sincere smile gave me energy during that stressful moment. Thank you. How powerful and energizing a single smile can be.

At the last checkpoint, the guard is having an iced tea. I ask her where did she get that and that makes her smile. “Where am I? In Laos!” I sing to myself.

The whole cabin smells like fish, but I couldn’t be happier about it. I’m sitting next to the driver, on the passenger seat of his container truck. I’m not supposed to be on this truck, but this is what happens when you don’t plan your border crossing.

At Davasan bus station, the border town on the side of Laos, I wait for the bus to Savannahket, my final destination for the day. There’s a small shop next to the station, I buy my first meal of the day, a chocolate wafer and water. Back at the station, as I open the chocolate wafers, a baby girl next to her mom reaches her arm. I signal to the mom if it’s ok to give her one, and she gives the go ahead. The father, in broken English, tells me they are from Vietnam, and they are going to Savannakhet too, but today (Sunday, new year) the bus is not coming. Our only option is to get to the next town, Xepon, and get a bus from there to Savannakhet. An older lady offers to take us on her cargo truck to Xepon for 50,000 Kip, but then leaves the station without stopping or saying anything. I look at the father of the baby girl, and he gives me a face of “not worth bothering for”. We are in the same boat, expect… his boat has a family.

After a while, the father starts hitchhiking for trucks to see if they will take his family to Xepon. He manages to stop one, calls for his family. I’m far, but I wait to see if he gives me a look. He doesn’t, and the truck leaves. It’s Ok, I think, his priority is his family, well done.

I have no other options, so I just wait to see what happens. There are some motorbike taxi drivers, but their prices are outrageous to get to the Xepon, which is not that far away.

Just wait, I think. Wait and something will happen. It’s 12pm, and I’m by the road, trying to hide in the shade of a store. Ok I guess it’s either wait for a miracle bus, hitchhike, which terrifies me, or spend the night here. I start trying making eye contact with possible transport vehicles. Vans, SUVs, Pickups, they all pass by without consideration.

A container truck passes by and at the last moment I make eye contact. He stops just ahead. “Wait, did that work?”. “Am I sure about this?” As I walk cautiously near the truck cabin, the drivers steps out, greets a man and a woman waiting on the road. He stopped for them. Still, there is a chance.

They load a couple of sacks and boxes. “Do you go to Xepon?” I ask the driver. He points to the motorbike taxis, with their atrocious prices. No way, I picture them as snakes in my head. So I just stay there. If I am good at something, is being still. I observe. I wait for an opening. The lady climbs inside the cabin, and as her companion is climbing up, she gives me a signal: Come. I get closer, wait for confirmation of the driver. As her companion gets up, I have a direct line sight with the driver. He gives the ok, I rush in, and off we go.

The driver and his two other passengers are Vietnamese. One last goodbye gift from Vietnam, I think.

“Why did I plan so little?” This is why, this right here. This is kindness, this is everything eventually working out, this is you finding a way. Here in this fish smelling cabin. This is the smells of patience and things will work out. What a wonderful smell.

The driver (named “Dong”, married, with 2 babies) and his two passengers talk all the way to Xapon. He is apprehensive with my presence, but I just smile. If anything, just smile. They are in a good mood, smiling and talking to each other. They clean themselves with a cold wet towel, and offer me one. I do the same. I’m covered in an invisible layer of dust, as attested by the wet towel afterwards.

I ask if I can take a photo, and they are ok with it. This is my first time doing this. Better to stay still, smile and be grateful.

Leaving Vietnam, travelling with these three Vietnamese, I think about their culture. Strong people. No bullshit people. Know what you want or go away people. No time to waste people. Good intention people. Take care of their family people.

We get to Xepon and the driver drops me off. Bye bye fish smell. Bye bye kindness. Thank you. Thank you, Vietnam, welcome Laos.

What new energy do I want to give Laos? Openness, curiosity, observant, engaging. Kindness.

In Xepon, I have to dodge, unsuccessfully, multiple waves of people trowing water. They trow water at motorcycles, cars, pedestrian, everyone. It’s hot out here, but still, I run away from a kid chasing me with a water gun.

Almost completely dry, I get to the bus station. There, a sŏrngtăaou (pickup truck with benches on its cargo bed) is just ready to leave to Savannakhet. A monk wearing orange robes boards the pickup truck. He has what looks like the latest iPhone and iPad on his hands. How can monks afford iPhones and iPads? Either way, this monk is chatting up the driver and the passengers. He is cracking them up and, I believe but don’t know, telling some good stories in Laotian. As we pass by more water stations, I can help but think, please don’t splash us, we are with a monk.

Before arriving at Savannakhet bus station, we drop the monk at a temple. I walk from the bus station to the center of town, where every block has one or two stations trowing water at everyone who passes. On my bag I have my computer and my camera, so every time I pass one of these stations, I’m bowing doing, saying please no with my hands together. They respect that, not one drop of water fell on me while walking to the center. I buy a SIM card, but I need Wi-Fi to activated it, genius experience. The store let me use their Wi-Fi to look for accommodation. There are not a lot of options on Booking. I mark a couple on the map just in case, and I start looking for guesthouses. I find a clean, nice family guesthouse where the family offer me fruit, noodles, and fish. Here I learn the second most important word in any language: Hello. Hello and thank you. Sabaidi and khob chai.