Snapshot from a Bus

I have developed an uncharacteristic, zen-like calm when it comes to waiting around bus terminals, train stations or roadsides for that most elusive of things: The ride I need to take. Even if there are printed schedules at the bus terminal, they sometimes turn out to be aspirational rather than factual.

As was the case on Monday, when I took a long ride with several buses from Chiang Rai in Thailand to Luang Nam Tha in Northern Laos. The morning bus I planned to take from Chiang Rai didn’t exist, despite written evidence to the contrary. So I got to start the day with a one-hour wait. 

At least Chiang Rai bus terminal has the nicest wall paintings I’ve seen to date.

Below you can see my backpack being lovingly hoisted onto the roof of my bus - the only place it would fit, since many people use these local buses for transporting bulky goods, which gradually accumulate around fellow travellers’ feet as the ride progresses and more people get on. 

I have, down the line, rested different body parts on varied kinds of luggage. My least favourite being a 12-hour bus ride in Indonesia with my feet resting on a sack of pineapples, which was unfortunately infested with ants, and my favourite a large head of cabbage in a sack nestled firmly between my legs for 8 hours in Myanmar, as I sat on the tailgate of a small jeep pickup with my legs dangling out the back. That cabbage was the only thing keeping me from slipping off the tailgate. That pickup had, apart from many sacks of cabbage, also 12 passengers. Two of them had to sit on the roof of the cabin and one on the spare tire on the hood of the car - so I call myself lucky to have gotten the tailgate and cabbage. Lots of legroom.

And legroom is at a premium in many countries. Locals are often much smaller and don’t need the amount of legroom us oversized Westeners are accustomed to. One’s hip bone is supposed to fit into a space considerably shorter than the bone in question, leaving one with the options of a massive man-spread or something from the Kama Sutra.

I had deviously hogged one of the few good seats - right behind an open doorway, meaning lots of lovely fresh air - and with legroom. The metal structure next to my seat shows what the average space reserved for legs in the bus was.

Of course it didn’t take long for that lovely empty space to fill.

Sometimes front row seats have more space - and they certainly have the best views. However, if seated on the first rows, you grow to dread the sight of an orange clad monk or novice approaching, since they are automatically granted the front seats, and the previous occupants are unceremoniously evicted. Can you spot the hint of ominous orange in the photo?

I think this has to do with rank. Many years ago, unlike my male fellow travellers, I couldn’t ride on the roof of a cargo boat going down the Mekong river, since then I would be physically higher up than the captain of the boat. And as a lowly woman, this was not to be tolerated. Maybe being seated in front of a monk would be similarly disrespectful of his superiority?

But back onto this particular journey. Bus, border, another bus terminal, another wait of one hour and finally the final bus for the 4-hour ride from the border to Luang Nam Tha. Once again, by inadvertently being at the station unstylishly early, I get the best seat on the bus - riding shotgun with the driver. No seatbelts of course. But if a monk gets on, he’ll have to fight me for this seat.

The following are a series of snapshots from this last ride:

We get off to a slow start. Various people get on or off on the way through Huay Xai, the border town on the Laos side. No-one gets on without first holding long conversations with the driver, presumably about the route the bus takes. Passengers enthusiastically participate in these debates. 

On the outskirts of town we stop for petrol - maybe, as in many countries, buses first needs the ticket money from passengers before they can afford to fill up. 

Now we’ve finally made it outside Huay Xai. Fewer stops for passengers - less habitation. We make a quick stop to let an elderly gentleman with bladder problems pee against a tree and then we’re off again. 

The countryside grows more mountainous the moment we cross over to Laos. And more beautiful than the flat and fertile region on the Thai side of the border. Occasionally we pass villages with picturesque wooden houses on stilts and always lots of kids running around.

There is rubbish dumped on deserted stretches of road - undernourished dogs trying to scravage a meal from it and billy goats doing the same but with much more panache and success.

Hills, green, forested hills - glorious limestone mountains, roads that snake down their sides - it’s beautiful on this side of the border!

A rare glimpse of a pampered and well-fed pet dog riding in the back of a fancy pickup truck and looking understandably pleased with himself.

Two hours into the drive we have a proper toilet break. Not that there are any toilets. The break differs from the old man and his tree only in that it’s announced and there is enough time for everyone to find a suitable bush or old barn to squat behind.

Then it’s back to business, overtaking slow trucks at dead curves, narrowly missing a sow and piglets, chickens of various age and ethnicity and at least one naked boy of around 3 years who dashed away from his mother and onto the road. He got a slap from his mum and a long blow of the buses horn for his trouble.

Three hours into the four-hour journey I peek at the map. We’re half way there. 

The ladies sitting behind me get off and come to my window to wave and say bye bye. We squatted behind the same shed during the toilet break, so we bonded.

The driver is now making up for lost time as dusk starts to settle. The road is slightly better, though at times pot-holes force the driver to drive on the wrong side of the road for long stretches. Luckily traffic - most of which is motorcycles - seems to thin out considerably after dark. Especially lucky, since most of these motorcycles don’t seem to have lights. Or at least use them. Probably they’re just saving petrol. 

It’s officially pitch dark. I glimpse Orion in the dark sky. Not too much traffic. Unfortunately there are still trucks driving. These are tricky to overtake on curvy mountain roads. Our driver does his best though. A seatbelt might have been nice.

And wonder of wonders, A mere 10 hours after setting off, I make it to Luang Nam Tha! 

Buses may not be fast, or very comfortable. But they certainly are entertaining!