Going back to China

Michelle left at six in the morning; I saw her off and caught a quick hour nap before departing myself. I had a long bus ride to the border that day.

Getting my ticket to Lao Cai was much harder than it should have been. First off, the station from which I had to depart was the main bus station for Halong Bay. Every thirty seconds, at least, somebody approached me. "Halong?"

"No, Lao Cai."

"Haiphong?"

"Lao Cai."

"Halong?"

"LAO CAI!"

I went to the ticket window, avoiding the rouge touts trying to get me to buy overpriced, unofficial bus ticket to a city three hours in the wrong direction.

"Lao Cai." I asked.

The woman spoke no English, but I could tell that getting to the border was not as clear cut as hoped. She talked in Vietnamese for quite a while, only stopping when somebody would interrupt us to ask me if I was going to Halong Bay.

"Halong!"

"No, Lao Cai."

"Haiphong?"

"Lao Cai!"

"Halong?"

"LAO CAI! LAO CAI! LAO CAI!!!!!!"

Finally I had a ticket in my hand. I marched outside, physically pushing my way through more people trying to force me to Halong Bay. A young lad grabbed me and took me back inside to the ticket woman. He didn't speak English either, but was much more adept at alternate forms of communication. Apparently, no direct bus left for Lao Cai until that evening, which was no good for me. Thankfully, the lad was the conductor for a bus heading halfway to Lao Cai, where I could catch a connecting bus. It is quite amazing how these crazy coincidences always arise in Asia. I sort of understood this, but the original ticket lady had called somebody on her mobile who spoke English and explained to me clearly. The lade gave the boy my full fare, even though he was only taking me part way.

Once out of the never-ending suburbs of Hanoi, it was a lovely trip, with beautiful mountain scenery, rice paddies, jungles, and for the first time in Vietnam, I saw small villages! The Vietnamese locals stared, made fun of me (you can always tell) and were quite amused by my habit of crunching up noodle soup packets and eating them dry (cheapest snack in Asia!). After five hours, the lad pointed to me, said "Lao Cai, Lao Cai!" I jumped off the bus, made an immediate change to the other bus. The lad paid the extra fare to the new driver, very clearly showing me he was honest. For a smug, conceited punk like that, I quite respected this gesture; it made up for his blatant mockery of me.

After a few more scenic hours, I arrived at the Chinese border and prepared for one of the most infamous crossings in Asia.

I'm not sure why, maybe it is the most common land crossing for China by tourists, but the Lao Cai/Hekou border is one of the toughest in all of China. I've heard many a horror story of tourists having their entire bags emptied, book inspected, or worse, having all printed material thrown away despite the content. Lonely Planet warns that all passing this border should at least masque the cover of their China Lonely Planets; apparently, they are offended by Taiwan being portrayed as a separate country.. I passed without an inspection or even a second look.

Hekou was a nicer than average border town. It appeared to merely be one giant market with prostitutes. I was lucky to have easily found a hotel owner (he may have found me), who had a cheap, but dirty room, only a block from the bus station; my bus left at 6:00am the next day. "You want pretty Chinese girl, boom boom?" he asked before leaving.

"Nah, that's fine, I have to get up early tomorrow." I left to get some food and a beer.

It was quite refreshing to actually return to a country for once. I knew already some of the essentials for the language and had a general idea of costs. I randomly ordered a dish by point method, beef fried rice. I would think I'd have remembered those symbols. It was still good. China may not be a new country, but I still had a lot more to learn.