I flew into Laos and I had some plans to explore the town, which I still got to do, just not in the way I anticipated.

When I first landed I was stuck in line for 1-2ish hours getting my visa on arrival and stamp in. They were not that quick about it. It wasn’t to bad though, because there Canadians in front of me and Americans behind me to talk with.

I split a van with some of them into the main part of Luang Prabang where we flew into. Upon, flying in it felt as if we were dropping right into a secluded remote valley. In a way, as I would learn, that’s pretty much how Laos is.

In town I went first to a tourist agency to see it I could get a price for a bus ticket from Luang Prabang to Kunming, China. She told be there would be no buses for the next several days because of the Chinese New year. That totally freaked me out because if that’s the case I would miss all of the Chinese trains I had already booked.

Determined not to give up I took a tuktuk to the actual bus station where the girl working said there would be a bus tomorrow morning, which is what I had planned on. I still wasn’t confident in her reply, but still least I had some hope now. Then from the bus station I got back to the town center to look for a place to stay.

Needless to say, I learned a lesson in the cultural significances of Chinese New year in Laotian communities. Since a lot of Lao people have Chinese ties or we’re originally Chinese immigrants the entire family had come to visit and in turned booked all the hostels and hotels right up. So 3 older, probably mid 50s, Canadians and I searched for 4 hours walking up and down every street in order to find a place. I got quoted $90 for a place and they heard quotes for $200 plus! Let’s remember that a hostel in laos, much like Thailand should cost from $3-12. So those prices were absolutely absurd!

Luckily, we found some places and I got to get some nice sleep in a bed. Which I will come to appreciate more and more as this overland journey starts to transpire. Before bed, however, I got some dinner at a food stall and walked the night market. I sampled some delicious rice wines and rice whiskey.

The next morning I was up and ready to go by 6am. I got my tuktuk to the bus station and luckily enough there was indeed a bus going to China! So I got my ticket and packed all my essentials into a fanny pack to ride with me in the cabin while the bulky backpack rode in the buses undercarriage.

In was pretty cool to stroll past small Lao villages and see glimpse of real Lao life apart from the tourist scene. Laos is definitely not as big of an economic player as Thailand is, and I feel that is due to it’s geography. Laos apparently is one of those most ethnically diverse countries on the planet with 49 recognized distinct ethnic groups. It’s easy to see why once the bus got going. It was switch back after switch back of rolling mountains and valleys. I can totally imagine a group of people settling and not having much outside contact. Even today the roads aren’t what I would consider modern. While they do connect most of these small communities together there are frequent stretches of gravel not to mention the spastic changes in grade.

I was the only white person on that bus. The majority we’re Chinese and a couple we’re Lao. I got a decent bed by the window, but this Chinese girl kept crying behind me and her mother constantly screamed at her in either an effort to console or chastise her. My Chinese isn’t good enough to tell.

We eventually made it to the Chinese border and I got my stamp in and every thing went well. The Chinese soldier searching my backpack, probably roughly my age maybe younger, seemed interested in where I was from and what I was doing. Then back on the bus. We had frequent bus stops, mostly used as smoke breaks. I would come to learn that the Chinese enjoy their smoking. At 1am our final stop before the arrival at 7am was at a small group of shacks and buildings. There was a TV playing a Chinese movie and the crowds of cigarette inhaling Chinese men circled around to watch.

In the morning, after as good of sleep as one could have hoped for, I said good bye to some Chinese friends I made. They were one of the few people that spoke any English and then helped me get to the train station on a bus before we parted ways. I got to the train station and went to retrieve my ticket that I had reserved online. Unfortunately, my passport number was wrong on the ticket. Probably my error. So I got a refund and rebooked. More unfortunately, due to the Chinese New year the only option left was standing room only for a 20 hour train ride.

I found out quickly that I could sit on less popular routes, but after a major city masses would get on and I would be back to standing. I would say I stood, likely 4-6 hours the whole time which is better than I anticipated. The biggest thing I experienced on the bus was the Chinese fascination with foreignors.

I would get invited over by parents to sit next to their kids. I would take pictures with them and then the parents, who didn’t speak any English, would try and coerce their kids into practicing the little English they did know. This most not be a common occurrence, because as soon as something like this would start to happen everyone on the cart would gather around like something entertaining was about to go down. I felt like a giraffe…

Unusual I’d start with a smile and “Hello.” They might do a quick response and say “Good afternoon” or something similar. Then I would ask their name or age and things would fall apart real quickly as I learned no one white had a grasp on English like I had witnessed in most other countries on my travels. So this supposedly entertaining sight turned into an awkward bout of silence broken up by parents still trying to jog their kids memory or with gifts to me. One child most have given me at least 12 clementines saying, “Mister, this is for you” each time.

Due the language barrier and also due to the fact my Kindle e-reader has the wrong time I missed my stop. Unfortunately for me, the next stop was about 2 hours. So I added an extra 4 hours to an already 20 hour train ride. To top it off I had to wait two hours at a train station waiting to hear back the way I had just came. To even get that done I had to show my ticket to some random person who announced it to everyone around him that i missed my stop so they could laugh at the dumb foreignor. Not sure what he said, but people sure we’re laughing.

After being lead around, a official looking man on the train wrote up some document and when I got off the train people at the station there took care of me. Luckily a girl there spoke English decently, so I could stay least get an imagine of what was happening. I was also told by her and her friend that I was the first foreignor they had ever seen at that station. Correspondingly, a cameraman showed up and took pictures of me as a security officer staged photos of helping around the station and checking my passport and other documents all incredulously for show. I just hope I’m not the new poster boy for American approval of Communism.

I’d have more pictures of the actual train, but my phone was dead through most of these struggles and you’ll likely get all the train info you want when I take the Trans Siberian Railroad later in the trip.

Fresh off the train, at the right destination, I made a new Chinese friend named Luka. Thank goodness I did! I literally would not have made it without him. Since all signs are in Chinese and not in English I can’t read or find anything I need too. I needed to change USD to Chinese currency and i also needed to find a bus.

Luka got me to one bank that didn’t have to have currency exchange. This isn’t like most tourist destinations were any schmo on the corner will change your money. In fact, I guess it’s kind of rare. I supposed it’d be like a Chinese person trying to exchange money in Saginaw, Michigan. What’s a Chinese tourist doing in Saginaw? What am I doing in Zhangjiajie. I get it, but it was a lot harder than I thought.

With Luka’s help we border a bus to the Bank or China. There I filled out the proper forms and had everything checked and was about to get the money transferred when the lady there said I needed an account first. She was about to set me up an account. I couldn’t believe it… It most countries you can exchange currency willy nilly, but it’s infinitely harder to open a bank account without jumping through a bureaucracy of paperwork. In China, I guess it’s easier to open a bank account then exchange money. Instead of me ending up with an exclusive Bank of China offshore account Luka just did the transaction for me.

After all of that I made it back to the bus station and said by to Luka after thanking him for invaluable services. Then I got on my bus and made it to the National Park entrance town. In this town I saw the first non-Chinese people since entering. They were Russians.

My next post will be about the Zhangjiajie National Park, but first let me tell you about my hostel here. I am the only person in a room of 8 bunk beds. They also don’t have heat. It’s 45° inside, but they give you a heating pad so that’s alright. Also no toilet paper and it’s a squat pot. Should be an experience! But it can’t be worse then sleeping on a bus moving through the Chinese mountains with screaming children or standing in the middle of a Chinese passenger train having to move every time someone walks the aisle.