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Tourist Travel: Buses, Sleeper Buses and Minivans
Like most countries, Laos offers tourists pre-packaged ways to get from one popular destination to the next at a price way higher than local transportation. The advantage of taking one of these AC minivans or comfy first class buses is that they pick you up at your guesthouse and take care of all transfers along the way.

Overnight trips are taken on sleeper buses that literally have beds instead of seats. Some beds are big enough for one, others have space for two, though barely. The twin beds are very narrow and too short to lay straight on the back. This worked out fine for Carrie and I since we just curled into a ball and fell asleep next to each other, but we know some people traveling alone who got stuck with random strangers in their bed.

While we sometimes took the packaged buses, we also tried to do it ourselves in order to pay less and travel like the locals. While we always got to our destination, we often found that it took far longer, was more uncomfortable and cost just about as much. We still got the foreigner price, even on local transportation, and got none of the frills. Still, that didn’t stop us from trying.

Songthaew:
Take an oversized, rickety and old flatbed truck. Put benches on either side of the cab and possibly a third bench in the middle. Then put a canopy attached to poles overhead and cram on as many people as humanly possible. That’s a songthaew and the most common way to travel as these are the only public buses offered. Bags, chickens, bikes and anything else people carry are placed on the roof or tied to the rear bumper, which usually has an extended grate for stepping or storing.

On one particularly uncomfortable three hour ride from Champasak to the 4,000 Islands we joined 21 other people in the back of a songthaew, bumping our way over potholes and dirt roads. Tied to the back bumper were about a dozen pigs in a wicker basket and a few more stuffed into sacks: all tied down with rope, squealing and sending their stink wafting into the songthaew. I had a guy next to me for a while who used me as a pillow. Carrie was pointed at and discussed in the local language for a few minutes after we got on. Best of all, we paid as much as we would have if we had taken the AC bus. Gotta love traveling!

In towns there are other types of songthaews that are a hybrid of pickup truck and tuk tuk. Maybe 10 feet long, they run on three wheels, have a single seat up front for the driver and a cab-like back with benches on either side. They hold less people than their truck counterparts and go way slower, which is why they are not used for long distances.

Tuk Tuk:
Aside from the songthaew tuk tuk, Laos also has smaller versions of these popular Asian taxis. Still using only three wheels, the driver sits on what looks like the front half of a motorcycle (it is also driven like one) with an area to put his feet. The back part has two benches like a songthaew but is significantly smaller and can fit only four people (as long as they don’t have bags) comfortably…or as comfortably as one can sit on a wooden bench in a vehicle with no shocks.

Boats:
With the Mekong running through the entire country as well as tons of other rivers and lakes, boat travel is very popular in Laos. Options range from speedboats to ferries, motorized canoes, barges and even a long wooden boat big enough for hundreds. But more on that later.

Street vendors selling chicken, drinks and more surround our sangthaw in southern Laos

We spent the night dancing and having a blast before going to bed at around 8am. Reuben returned. Karen came back. But where was Claire? This was the question we were still asking at 7pm when I hopped onto the back of a motorcycle driven by a Thai friend I had made. Our destinations? Health clinics and the police station to see if anyone had seen the girl whose passport I held in my hand. None of us knew what to do but we were very worried.

My friend told me that people go missing all the time and if she didn’t show up and we filed a police report that we would have to stay on the island until she surfaced. I had no luck on our motorcycle ride, but upon returning what did I see? Claire chatting with the girls telling a story about meeting new friends and winding up on the other side of the island with no cell phone. Thank goodness she was ok but what an experience for us.

The next day we all said our goodbyes and Carrie and started our 700 kilometer journey north to Chang Mai for some trekking. We had gone against our usual method of travel and booked a direct trip to Bangkok through a tour agent to make our life easier. Our taxi left the hotel at 11am and we next joined thousands of Westerners boarding a boat to what we thought was Surat Thani.

In reality the boat dropped us off a few hours later at some dock somewhere in Thailand where busses waited to take us the rest of the way. We were among the last people off the boat by the time we finally got our bags all of the busses were full and we had to wait on this random dock for nearly two hours before the next bus came.

When we finally arrived in Surat Thani we were left at a bus terminal in the middle of nowhere so we had no choice but to buy their overpriced food. Our bus left 30 minutes late and got into Bangkok 30 minutes early: at 4:30am. We hopped in a cab to the train station, booked an 8:30am train to Chang Mai and waited in the terminal for it to leave.

A twelve hour train ride later we got to Chang Mai. got in a cab, found a hotel and passed out.

Final tally:
3 taxis
2 bus rides
1 boat ride
1 train ride
34 hours of travel

Add the 26 hours to get from Malaysia to the full moon party and you get 60 hours of travel in 6 days. Had we skipped the full moon party and flown from Malaysia to Chang Mai it would have taken 3 hours. Was it worth it? 100%!

It didn’t take long for us to realize that Bali was unlike any place we’ve ever traveled before, in that it is nearly impossible to use public transportation. As always, after arriving at the airport we were greeted by scores of taxi drivers. And as always, we politely refused and said that we wanted to take public transportation. After finding another pair of backpackers and getting information on how to make the 50 minute journey to Ubud, we walked out of the airport towards the bus stand.

Public buses in Bali (called bemos) are actually little vans with bench or bus style seating. They do not go long distances and getting across the country can be done only by using multiple bemos for each little leg of the trip. Each bemo ride should not cost more than 5,000 rupia (50 cents) per person and should drop us off at either a bus stop or terminal where the next bemo should be waiting or on its way.

For locals in Bali, this is exactly how it works. However, as we quickly found out after leaving the airport, the reality is quite different for tourists. We had to haggle hard with every single driver  we encountered to get even close to the fair price and often drivers would just flat out refuse anything less  than 20,000 rupia per person to go even a short distance. Most told us that there were no more bemos to Ubud that day and we should just give them large sums of money to take us.

“But aren’t you a bemo?” we would ask the drivers. The answer was always the same: “yes, but this is a private bemo.” We would later learn that all bemos spend some time doing trips for locals but most just wait around and use their vehicle as a private transport for foreigners, as it makes them far more money. Very few public bemos were even willing to stop for us, as the system in place is designed to frustrate foreigners to the point that they throw their hands up and accept whatever price the private ones ask for.

The epilogue to our airport to Ubud story is that we finally made it there: four hours and four bemos later. We spent God knows how much time haggling and saying no to absurd prices and even despite our best work the trip wound up only being $9 cheaper than it would have been to have a 50 minute long AC cab ride from the airport to our hotel. At that point we too threw up our hands and decided no more bemos!

After a few days in Ubud, we decided to try out the other cheap option for travelers in Bali: the shuttle service. For anywhere between $5 and $20 per person, a private car will pick up as many people as it can cram in. Reservations are required, but last-minute additions are welcomed. Regardless of how many people are in the car, the per person cost remains the same. We were lucky enough to have our first one be for just us, but we have heard horror stories from other travelers.

While the shuttle service is ok, they only operate in major destinations. Other times, there is no choice but to pay a driver to go wherever we need to go. This is the most obnoxious of all, as they know you are lost without them and charge between $20 and $30 for a quick drive anywhere. We contemplated going back to bemos, but the odds of those working out in our favor were slim so we just sucked it up.

Next we come to the public and private taxis. In big towns like Kuta and Denpensar (the capital), iit is not hard to find a normal metered taxi. However, once you get out of these places the taxis are just more private drivers. As we learned, actual taxis are only allowed in a select few cities. Everywhere else, anyone with a car is welcome to line the streets and hawk out their vehicle for a ride. This results in the most commonly heard things on the streets of a town like Ubud being, “hello taxi? Yes, taxi? You want taxi? Taxi? No? Maybe tomorrow?” It gets quite overwhelming with more drivers than tourists and becomes something of a joke for all travelers.

Finally we come to the most economical way to get around that, unfortunately, we didn’t realize and take advantage of until the end of our trip: rental cars. For $9 per day we rented a Feroza, which is a Jeep-like bucket of bolts with a very wide turning radius, speed and gas gauges that don’t work and very little pickup. In order to rent it all we had to do was fill out a simple form with our name, address in the USA and passport number, but they didn’t verify any of it and I easily could have put down any info and still gotten the car.

As I can barely drive stick on the right side of the road, Carrie was our driver and did an amazing job navigating driving on the left side of the road and shifting gears with her left hand. We got lost a few times due to terrible signage in the country, but all in all the rental car was the best way to travel and we wish we had done it from the start…it would have alleviated much stress, hassle and wasted money.

Rating: Bali Low (except for the rental car)

I didn’t notice until I had to pay $50 at the Bali airport to get a visa, but the women at our Phuket hotel totally robbed me. I had 2 $20s, a $10 and a $1 in my wallet that they replaced with 4 $1 bills. I even looked into my wallet before leaving, but saw 4 bills so I didn’t bother to check that they were the right ones until standing at the visa counter in Bali. The worst part is the women totally pretended to be our friends and were so super nice. That’s how they get you…lull you into a sense of security then strike!

When we arrived at the Bali airport, we had to fill out a yellow card stating that we had not been in any swine flu infected areas lately and that we had none of the symptoms within the past two weeks. Then, we had to walk through a body temperature scanner that would show if anyone had a fever and they would be instantly quarantined. Scary!

Someone thought I was from Germany just because of my green floppy hat

Most soda comes in 250ml Red Bull sized cans

For some reason some prices require change that either does not exist or that the store does not carry. In place of the small change, clerks will often give the customer a piece of candy instead.

Everyone has a business card from the taxi drivers to the guys trying to book you on a tour to random people you meet in a restaurant who just want to be your friend…until the other shoe drops and they are trying to get money from you somehow.

One of the things Lovina is most famous for are sunrise dolphin spotting boat tours. Despite the fact that our hotel owner knew that we had booked a scuba tour for that day, at 6am he woke us up with a knock on the door asking, “you want dolphin tour?” To which I very irritatedly yelled back, “no, I want to sleep!”

Much like 7-Eleven was all over Thailand, Circle K was all over Bali.

Further proving our thoughts on the over-tourism of Bali, we heard a radio program in a taxi that said that the island had nearly twice as many hotel rooms as possible clients and far too many for an island of that size.

When we picked up rocks at the top of Mt Batur they would crackle and begin to turn from black to grey as they interacted with the fresh air for the first time.

A local was telling us about how for very big occasions they sacrifice a cow by taking it out on a boat and dropping it into the water to kill it. For lesser occasions, they kill a chicken, fry it up and eat it.

While taking photos of rice terraces, a vendor came up to me and told me to buy his postcard because it was better than the photo I was taking. Great sales pitch, ass!

One night in Ubud we were forced to listen to the never-ending repeating music of a local festival. Literally, it was the same 10 second tune over and over again for hours.

I love when they ask if I want transport when I’m already in a car or vehicular!

When taxi drivers ask, “hello, transport?” they make a driving motion with their hands that often looks like they are milking a cow.

My favorite vendor/taxi driver/massage vendor expression is when they, out of the blue, come up to you and say “yes?” Like, I’m sorry, did I miss something? Did we have an entire conversation about me using your services and you are just checking in to see if now is a good time? I thought not.

We saw a clothes dryer that was heated by fires atop the unit.

We saw a guy sitting on the street with a chicken in his lap relaxing and smoking a cigarette.

Local pride, or whatever you want to call it, seems to reign supreme in Bali, as we were constantly cut in lines by locals and our orders at restaurants and food stalls were pushed back so that the orders of a local who arrived after us could be filled first. Imagine that in our customer service oriented society in the USA?!

The lights in our hotel by Mt Batur were so bad that I often had to check and see if I was still wearing sunglasses.

We treated some tap water with the pills to kill any parasites inside, which worked well but left the water tasting like a swimming pool. Yuck!

After we spent the last of our Bali money at the airport and went through the gates, we were treated to an airport departure tax. Luckily, Carrie had a few US dollars left so we didn’t have to pay absurd ATM fees, but how can you not warn passengers of that before blindsiding them with the expensive fee. That just ain’t right.

There were bootleg movies on every street corner. I read in a newspaper that the US just placed Indonesia on the Priority Watch List for piracy this year after causing $132 million in losses in 2008. At present, there are more than 550 million pirated movies and CDs on the streets of Indonesia.

The phrase “hello massage” is so common that we even heard it in the airport. Listen to someone saying it here…

Much like the rest of Southeast Asia, there are no open container laws, so people walk down the street drinking beer all the time.

Scuba dive masters make $3.50 – $4.50 per dive as a salary and considering Southeast Asia is a non-tipping culture, they rarely make any more.

We saw a monkey laying on his back on the side of the road holding one finger up, as if begging for one banana. Crazy what a lifetime of tourism will do to an animal.

It was actually in Thailand, but we were given bananas during our snorkeling tour and the fish flocked around to eat them out of our hands. It felt really wierd when these toothless animals missed the food and nibbled on my hand.

While Indonesia was the country hit hardest by the 2004 tsunami with more than 200,000 deaths, Bali was completely spared. Local legend says that it is because the island has temples on all four corners and the Gods spared Bali.

Lovina is famous for its early morning dolphin spotting tours, but Carrie and I had no interest as we were there to scuba dive. However, someone forgot to tell our hotel and at 6am we heard a knock on the door and someone saying, “you want dolphin tour?” NO! We want to sleep!

The police in Ubud have black teeshirts that say Police in the local language and some weapons on their belt. other than that they look like any other local going to temple for the day wearing a sarong and festive head covering.

When shops don’t have the correct small change or the change due is in increments that do not exist in Balinese currency, they give little pieces of candy as change instead.

Despite the legal driving age being 16, we see kids far too young looking to be driving scooting around all the time. This was true in every country we’ve visited so far as well.

We learned that the actual Division Bell statue from the Pink Floyd album of the same name was located just a few km away in Ubud. Sadly, we learned this just before we left and could not go visit it. Lame!

Our last night in Bali was spent in Kuta, a super-touristy resort town. I just wanted a bowl of Bakso, which is chicken ball soup. After being told a price that was double what the price was everywhere else in Bali, failing to bargain the vendor down and talking to other locals who speak English about how crazy the Kuta markup is, I finally bought the soup at the higher price and took it to go. When I got back and started eating it, it may have been the spiciest thing I’ve ever eaten. Literally, my lips were on fire and my stomach burned. Despite saying “only a little spicy,” I’m convinced it was their silent revenge for my trying to get the price I knew was correct. I mean literally, the soup was bright red! That couldn’t be by accident.

During our last stop in Ubud, I saw a sign with directions to the actual statues used for the cover of the Pink Floyd album The Division Bell. Of course that wasn’t in our guide book and by the time I saw the poster it was too late to head over there. Bummer!

On our drive from Tanah Lot to the airport, we ran out of gas in our rental car. I had to walk a while down the highway, dig through some trash to find a used water bottle and go to a gas station to have them fill it up with petrol. Thank goodness laws are different than in the US, where I could never just show up with a water bottle and expect it to be filled.

And finally, after telling a pair of British girls that the hotel they were looking at and we were already staying was a great place and the price was as good as they would find in Ubud, the manager who overheard my talking his place up came over, shook my hand and said thanks. I don’t think that’s ever happened before.

“Can you help me? I seem to have gotten lost in southwest Thailand and am trying to find my way back onto the backpacking trail.” These are the types of thoughts that Carrie and I have had lately after our visit to the Andaman coast. It started in Krabi, where we headed to after Bangkok to check out some beaches, the stunning limestone crags that line the sea and to do some diving.

Upon arriving in Krabi, we quickly found that our ideas of finding a cheap local boat to take us around to the crags and beaches would not work. The system in place makes it very difficult to do anything yourself unless you know the right people or have a large group to split the costs. If you are traveling solo, or with one other person, there is little other choice than to go through a tourist agent to book a tour.

For two days we shopped around, comparing tour options and prices while trying to coordinate with our friend Sean that we met in Bangkok. In the end, we found a few we liked but first had to head to Kho Lak to see about scuba diving.

Though only two hours away, everyone we talked to said the only way to get there was an overpriced AC minivan. Even the locals we talked to said that it was the way to go, so we booked it and hopped onto the van that picked us up at our hotel…can’t complain about that. However, a mere five minutes later we pulled into a restaurant parking lot and were told to grab our bags and get off.

We soon learned that tour agencies sell tourists these rides without coordinating with the actual van company. Upon arriving at the restaurant everyone gets off the van and is given a little sticker with the name of their destination. The staff then has to figure out how many people are going where…and how to get them all onto the few vans that they have. For more popular destinations there is no problem, but some people had to go out of their way to drop off others first: no problem in a bus, but they paid for a direct shuttle!

Everyone was also told that they could be dropped off at their hotel if they had one, and if not the company had to book them a hotel or they would be left at the edge of town. This was just a ploy to get hotel commission, as in the end everyone was dropped off at the same place in Kho Lak and the driver refused to take people to their hotels. Thankfully, we knew better…but some in our van did not.

With our pacakge off in the mail, it was time to find an Internet cafe to book a ticket to Sri Lanka for 7:30am the next morning. However, we quickly learned that you couldn’t book an e-ticket less than 24 hours before the flight. Next we tried to call the airline directly to book, but despite it being almost an hour before they closed, the woman Carrie talked to said that there was not enough time to do it and we had to come in the next day when they opened…well after 7:30am.

Frustrated by the call (I guess we used up our good karma for the day at the post office) we decided to just relax for another day in Chennai and book an e-ticket for the day after. However, nothing is ever as easy as it should be and every single credit card we are traveling with was rejected by the site. I even called my credit card company back home and they told me that they had no idea why it was rejected, as their system had not gotten a single request for credit card approval from Air India Express. At this point we gave up and called it a night.

We now found ourselves with no other choice, so we hopped into a cab the next day and soon sat down in front of the same woman who refused to make our reservation over the phone the day before. One by one, each credit card was once again rejected by their system and, after wasting nearly 20 minutes trying, she finally informed us that they do not accept US credit cards. Why she couldn’t tell me that at first is beyond me. I also don’t get why they can’t take US cards, since I was trying to use Visa and Mastercard, which are both issued and used all over India.

Regardless of the reason, we had no choice but to pay ATM fees and buy the ticket using good ole cash. It was an odd feeling doing it with bills, and even more odd was the fact that we had to buy a plane ticket in person. It’s tough to remember a time when the Internet wasn’t the best way to make your reservation.

Though it’s only a mile or so from the main road, Sadhana Forest is a bit of a trek to get to and from: especially when the sun is beating down. As such, Carrie and I joined most other volunteers and rented a scooter for under $2 a day during our time there. Whether it’s to get ice cream or some other non-vegan snack, explore nearby towns, relax on the beach, visit Auroville or just cruise for a bit, the scooter afforded us the freedom to do what we wanted without being a slave to overpriced taxis or the schedules of others.

Our first ride was a bit dicey, as neither of us had ever driven a scooter before, let alone on the opposite side of the road before. It took about ten minutes before we had our first little crash while trying to cross traffic and make a sharp turn on dirt. It was not in front of traffic, but of course a handful of locals were there to watch the show.

Early jitters aside, I fell completely in love with our scooter and can see why motorcycles have such a cult following. That said, I also see how dangerous they are and have no need to drive one back home. In Sadhana the joy was half having the freedom to get out when I wanted and half the thrill of the wind in my face. That, and caravaning was a favorite past time of volunteers. One night we had a string of eight scooters driving in a line home all honking and passing each other. Too much fun!

The comical highlight of our scooter experience came after a torrential rain storm that lasted all day. Stir crazy and craving ice cream, a bunch of us decided to brave the muddy mile to the main road. We paired up two to a scooter and set off, slipping, sliding and laughing our way through puddles and inches of mud. At times one person per scooter had to walk while other times it was two to a vehicle.

In the end, six scooters made it out of the mud road without incident and the caravan headed to a bakery for some croissants and cheese. We never did make it to get ice cream as the sky was darkening and we feared mud driving at night. Our accident-free track record continued until the final curve before arriving back at Sadhana, which was a giant mud pool that, despite not having Carrie on the bike, caused me to skid out and fall ass-first into the puddle. After a classic laugh first, ask questions later, experience, Carrie came over and helped get the bike off of me and I proceeded to walk it the final hundred feet home.

Just under two months into our trip we hit Kanyakumari and the southernmost tip of India where the Arabian Sea, Bay of Bengal and Indian Ocean meet. In our one night there we watched the sunset over all three bodies of water, saw the place where Gandhi’s ashes were laid to rest before being swept out to sea and enjoyed the view from our amazing balcony. In fact, the specific room we stayed in was actually recommended, by number, in our guidebook. The next morning I woke up dark and early to watch the sunrise over the same three bodies of water from our rooftop. It was beautiful, but due to a layer of haze I didn’t actually see the sun until it had been above the horizon for nearly 20 minutes.

A few hours later it was time to check out and begin our trip to Kodaikanal. Most towns have countless tourist offices where you can book tours, trains, buses or just get general information. After asking four such offices for the bus schedule and getting four different answers, we headed to where one of them told us the bus station was. Naturally, after a long  walk in the blazing sun with our giant backpacks, we learned that the bus stop was actually right up the street from the tourist office. Uuuugh!

Hot and sweaty we tried to get a rickshaw to take us the 2 kilometers to the bus station but they all were charging obnoxiously high prices so we waited for the local bus into town that would end its trip at the station. Naturally, even the bus found a way to overcharge us, which I realized when I looked at the sign right in front of my face listing distances and fares. Tired and not wanting to deal with making a scene over a few cents, I forced myself to bite my tongue.

Once in the bus terminal we asked the most unhelpful man ever to sit at an information desk for departure times. He told us our only two options were to wait 10 hours for a direct bus to Kodaikanal or to wait three hours, get a bus to Madurai and hope to catch a connecting bus. Not satisfied with that answer or with the man’s attitude, we began asking all the other bus drivers and food vendors in the station and learned that a bus to Madurai was actually leaving any minute

As is often the case, any minute really meant in about two hours. So, after killing time eating a bus station breakfast (fried food, soda and chips) we finally got on the road for our worst bus ride to date. Cramped, bumpy, hot and loud are words that come to mind to describe it.

We spent much of the ride squeezing locals into our row of seats that was barely big enough for the two of us including a few hours with what we guessed was a 6 foot 3, 240lbs man. The bus helper was also sitting right next to us and his job was to blow a loud whistle every time we had to stop to let someone on and off (which happened at least every few minutes as we were on a local bus). Suffice it to say, it was among the longest six hours ever during which I spent lots of time just wishing I was back home.