“All the peoples on earth are equal”

Ho Chi Minh

Unless of course you are a western tourist in Vietnam. Never before have I entered a country and wanted to leave within the first 24 hours.

Many of the travellers I’ve met that have been to Vietnam were negative about their experiences. Of course there are a few who loved it, but I’d heard that the people are very aggressive and not friendly. This was reinforced further when Jordi said “I’ll never go back there”. Still, you can’t judge for yourself until you try it.

Our last day in Laos didn’t start so well. The bus to the border doesn’t run on Sundays. No real problem. We just hitched instead. After 15 minutes of waiting we were picked up by a pick up that was going to the border. Wind blowing through our hair we were happy that we were on our way. That was until we reached the border and the driver wanted considerably more that the cost of a bus trip.

We crossed the border into Vietnam with little trouble although the Vietnam immigration officials scrutinised our passports, paying particular attention to our recent visit to India. At the border town of Nameo we had lunch and then tried to find out how to move on. We were informed that the only buses left from Quan Son, some 55km up the road. The locals were more than happy to help, offering to take us to Quan Son on motorbike for $10 each.

Now $10 might not sound like much, but over here it is. The average wage in rural Vietnam is $20 a month. The locals, however, were not open to bargaining. They would rather have nothing in place of anything less than $10.

You might wonder why I’m making a fuss over $20, however the only reason we are able to travel so long is because Asia is cheap. We are getting by on less than 20 pounds a day. But the problem was bigger than that. In extreme short sightedness we only had $20 in local currency (some 400,000 dong) on us (Thai Baht is not much use here). That left us with the challenge, to reach Hanoi, some 350km away, with only $20. A true Tom style adventure, and given what we had been quoted our full allowance for the first 50km things didn’t look good.

We gave up on the locals (No one; truck, minibus or motorbike would take us for less than $20) and started walking, fully loaded with our luggage. I’m travelling quite light compared to some, but including all the camera stuff my bags come to about 18kg. Quite a lot when facing a 55km hike.

We covered 10km in two and a half hours. We’d hoped that the locals in villages further away from the border might be more sympathetic to our plight. Evidently not, as motorbikes went up to $15 per person.

As darkness started closing in, we had some good luck and we were picked up by some loggers in a battered old truck. We traveled the remaining 45km perched on top of some logs in the back, stopping en route to collect more logs and drink some rice wine with the labourers. These are the experiences that make independent travel so special. We also spotted as it passed us in the other direction that there is a local bus service to Nameo. The locals had lied to try and get our money.

These legendary chaps dropped us in Quan Son outside a guesthouse and restaurant and didn’t ask a penny for their trouble. Back to reality and naturally we were overcharged for dinner and quoted city prices for accommodation. I wandered of to look for an alternative place to stay and was offered to be put up for free by one of the locals who was eating with several of his friends. Once again I was happy to believe that not all Vietnamese were as we’d heard. Only later did I find out that this guy was a bus driver. Not a good sign for the following morning.

So after our “free accommodation” in this guy’s house, he wanted $50 to take us to Hanoi. Despite the fact that we didn’t have half that much on us, this was more than it costs to do the 1700km journey between Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh City. Once again, this chap was not open to negotiation, forcefully telling us that it was $50 or they go without us. They went without us.

Despite the fact that these are government run buses, all of that $50 minus the correct fair goes into the pocket of the driver and his ticket collector. What I found incredible was that they would rather have nothing than less than their ridiculous asking price. Furthermore, one has to ask, how does the price get that high? Clearly travellers have been paying that, otherwise they would never ask for so much in the first place.

We then tried bargaining with the another bus that went half dstance. Although we could afford the $20 he wanted, this would then leave us stranded 150km from Hanoi rather than the current 300km. As that bus also left without us we sat down at the side of the road in despair, all the while with locals coming up to us offering “motorbike, motorbike”, for anything between $10 and $50 to go practically nowhere.

At this point, stranded in Quan Son, I was seriously considering crossing back into Laos. Only the immense remoteness of the north east of Laos and the $30 visa cost put me off. That and the admission of defeat.

Studying our guide and map we were considering the best way to make our way out of this damn country and into Cambodia as fast as possible. My thoughts went to how quickly I could leave thus preventing any more of my money going to any more of these people.

The only people to stop to “help” just wanted dollars. All the others just stood at a distance and laughed at us. We ended up making a scene with both of us taking it in turns to have temper tantrums. I exploded giving an Oscar deserving mental patient act after another bus driver stopped asking for $20 dollars to take us back to the Laos border.

We’d given up hope wondering what on earth we were going to do when a young girl came up to us on her motorbike and said that we should wait where we were (I did wonder if she too was having a dig) as she might be able to help. Thirty minutes later her English teacher turned up and asked if he could help us. After explaining our predicament he took us back to his school, introduced us to his fellow teachers, talked about his life in Vietnam (he earns $20 a month as a teacher) and to top it of he fed us royally.

With my faith in mankind restored he explained how the bus ticket to Hanoi costs $5 and that he would call the afternoon bus driver and have him pick us up. It was all looking good until the bus driver turned up, more aggressive than those before, and told the teacher that we were foreigners and therefore we had to pay $50. The teacher explained that we didn’t have that much. He dropped to $40 but wouldn’t go any lower.

We stormed off in a fit of bad temper and worse language, only to see the bus coming along to pass us on its way to Hanoi. Espe in a total rage stopped the bus Tiananmen Square style, forced the door open, pushed the conductor out of her way and took a seat. After a big confrontation that from the look in the conductors eyes seemed as though it could turn violent at any moment, we gave him all of our money and he allowed us to stay onboard.

Eight hours later we arrived in Hanoi. Not before we’d had further confrontations with this guy as he continued to cram as many people in the bus as possible. Along with the vomiting women next to me, I had someone sitting on each foot.
Upon arrival in Hanoi we still had to cover the 6km to the center, but thankfully a friendly Madrileña took pity on us the and covered the 15 pence for the local bus tickets. Finally at 10pm we found ourselves in a comfortable hostel room falling asleep within seconds (only to be woken at 2am by some noisy Americans – Jonathan was right, the title of my current book “The Quiet American” is an oxymoron).

It took us a day longer than it should but we managed to get by, the pair of us, on $20. So, now that we’ve made it to Hanoi, we’ve just got to find the quickest way out.

We’ve been laughing about it afterwards and now, especially having put it down in words, it doesn’t seem like such a big deal but at the time it was certainly an ordeal for us both. It was a true test of patients that pushed Espe and I over the limit. It also clear to see that Espe loses her temper in a very similar way that I do, and that goes a long way to explain why she tolerates mine.

Now I’m not so naive as to think that everyone on this planet is friendly and willing to help, but crossing from Lao (the country with the most friendly people I’ve ever met) into Vietnam, the difference was striking. So many people out to rob us blind, so few willing to help. Clearly socialism works here. I have to ask though, is this aggressive attitude a result of the Indochina wars, or is just that the reason both France and America were defeated?