Borderline absurd - entering Vietnam

  Our motorcycle adventures didn't exactly pan out the way we hoped. We completed a small loop near Pakse, a southern city located near the Bolaven Plateau. Great coffee. The landscapes were pretty, but, as the plateau part of the name suggests, not too adrenaline-inducing as, say, northern Thailand. The loop included frequent stops to waterfalls,which, while nice, lost some some of their (swimming) appeal due to nightly storms and consequently very muddy water. 

  At least I got to test out my super driving skills on a semi-automatic motorcycle (ok, so it was up and down one straight road, but we all have to start somewhere, right?). We spent all of two days on a bike, plus an afternoon to see the Khmer ruins of Wat Phu, and decided it's time to move on. To another country, that is.

It was that hot

Beautiful flame tree

Need a ride?

  Now this is where the tale gets exciting. Or excitingly frustrating, I should say. Not sure if I'm sharing it as a warning against losing vigilance in paying attention to details or in an effort to vent against the incompetence of one certain Communist bureaucracy. Probably both. We applied for our Vietnamese visas in Luang Prabang. A short application, $60 and no lines got us the 1-month visas just days later. In truth, it was a rushed pick up right before closing time on our way back from Muong Ngoi Neua, with a running engine and two other passengers in our tuk-tuk. We glanced over our basic personal information – all clear. When we finally reached the Lao-Vietnam border at Dansavanh/Lao Bao, passport control pointed out that our visas would not become valid for another week. The embassy made a mistake, and we were fools for not catching it. Bureaucracy being what it is, especially in a “nobody dare distinguish themselves” type of government, officials said their hands are tied and we have to solve the issue at an embassy, if we didn't want to spend another week in Laos, that is. Since we already booked plane tickets from Hanoi to Kuala Lumpur for the 8^th of June, it was important enough for us to enter early. The closest consulate (where we were directed) is in Savannakhet, 5 hours away by bus. And since there's only one bus daily from Dansavanh to Savannakhet, at 9 am, we were forced to spend a night in a grungy “motel” room in the hole in the wall that is Dansavanh. We were definitely the only falangs in town. A truly authentic experience. Once in Savannakhet, a nice gentleman behind the counter told us that only the person who issued the visas can amend them. After much brain-storming, we decided that the twenty some ride to Luang Prabang was ridiculous, so we got new visas, which, we were decisively informed, could be combined with our other ones for a full stay. Yeah, not the case. An hour of debating, pleading and frustration at the same border crossing the next day got us admittance stamps for one whole full week (til expiration of the new visas – May 30^th), despite previous assurances. Thoroughly pissed off, we got into Hue in central Vietnam to meet up with friends we met in Myanmar. One foot in the door, should get easier, right? We were informed we had 3 options: a) rebook our tix for the 30^th, b) get a visa extension (despite the original spanking new unused visas in our passports), or c) recross the border on the 28^th, the validity date for our first visas. Option B seemed the least of all evils, so we spent a day trying to get visa extensions at the Hue immigration office, which resulted in a lot of talking and little else. We were directed to the Danang (at least it was on our way to Hoi An) and its regional immigration office (more authority!). They said our best option was recrossing the border. So on the 28^th, we packed ourselves into a little cramped minivan and started for Lao Bao, with hearts in our throats. We did have to buy new Lao visas for all of a half hour stay, but we went through the spiel, with enough laughs on both sides of the border. Yes, at our expense. But we did it. Greatly relieved, we rejoined our friends in the capital of Hanoi.

  Communism at its finest, people.  Nothing gets done. So check and recheck every little thing if you want to avoid heaps of frustration and a bunch of gray hair.

At least Vietnam is worth it.