And then the baby filled its nappy!!

You can’t organise a trip like this yourself without making the odd bad decision. An example of this was our choice of transport from Ninh Binh to De Nang, some 550 km. The Vietnamese holiday season was finishing so lots of people were travelling back home and as a consequence all the trains were booked. We had 2 options, travel back to Hanoi and take a flight or use the overnight bus which although was up to 16 hours it was due to get in at 8.30am leaving us refreshed and ready for the new day. Also we would not need accommodation that night. Being a cheapskate here really did cost us! Luckily the decision to take the bus was mutual so we couldn’t blame each other for what we were about to endure!

Waiting for the bus to turn up we hoped it would be the same standard as the one we took to Sa Pa. Oh how mistaken we were. The tattiest piece of mental and glass attached to four wheels in the whole of Asia rolled in and we realised the nightmare might just be starting. We were placed at the rear of the bus on the floor with a false roof above us which meant it was hard to even sit up. We had two of the five seats/beds available and what luck, we were positioned above the rear wheel arch and with the engine directly behind us for extra comfort.

My seatbelt didn’t work so Rach insisted on my belt being tied to hers. The air con was a whole in the metal, all the light were broken and the seat beds in a poor state of repair. So we settled down and for an hour the journey wasn’t bad, oh I should mention the on board toilet. Rach went early on as you would expect and came back in a state of shock as to what had been left in the pan prior to her attendance, no need to go further into that explanation other than to say that we prayed hard to the God of bladders that neither of us would need to use it again. This meant we dare not drink any water for fear of having to go!

A short while later at our first stop the bus stated to fill up. A Vietnamese lady and a baby under a year old initially joined us at the rear of the bus, the baby was crying and I was wondering how she would stop it when she came up with the answer in front of me. She whipped off her top and to my surprise a pair of Vietnamese fun bags were staring at me. As the baby latched on to the first my eyes widened, I was wearing a face mask for breathing and this helped highlight my stare at just the moment that her husband joined the party. Embarrassed I turned quickly to look at Rach as he took his place in the final seat next to me, a nervy few moments passed before I dared turn back.

For a few more hours The bus trundled on, the driver, obviously related to the devil, constantly using his horn, braking sharply and driving too fast before it stopped once more. We were the only westerners on the bus, it was very much a local bus with local people, all the floor space was taken up with people asleep. Now most Vietnamese are slight in build, petite frames so when the largest local I had seen got on the bus and preceded to walk through the bus I thought this would be fun. Oh no because it was then that I discovered the Mum, Dad and baby only had 2 seats and the Vietnamese Pavarotti was destined for the seat next to me!

I braced myself as he poured into his seat. Like overfilling a bowl with custard his side belly seeped into my seat and area, his cold clammy skid brushing my forearm as I tried to contain my space! As he filled up the remaining space and the bus started up again and the baby cried again I was surely on the road to hell. Pav decided to call a mate and spoke loudly above the engine noise into his phone and my good ear, luckily only for about 10 minutes and then the baby filled its nappy! Oh such happy memories as all my senses now appeared breached, and all this only 8 hours into the journey so halfway and no sleep, and no prospect of sleep either.

However the highlight of the trip still awaited me, the hours had passed and Rach had been forced to use the toilet of doom once more. She had come back saying it was far cleaner than before and I lay awake, involuntarily holding hands with Pav, who was snoring quietly and probably sleeping well. Question to myself, should I attempt to climb over the sleeping bodies to get to the toilet as I needed to go, or try and hold on another few hours? I had to go so I tried to get up, banged my head and looked at the people on the floor wondering how I could do this. Rach helped by shinning her phone light to assist. I made it to the loo. I opened the door and went inside, not to horrendous, but the driver had no idea I was in there and certainly hadn’t slowed down. One hand pointing Percy at the porcelain, the other holding the sink for balance and my right leg jammed into the wall for extra support I started my business. Driver brakes, just enough, not to unsteady me but for me to realise the bloody door doesn’t lock and had swung open. The darkness of the bus is now broken with the bog light aluminates me like I am on a theatre stage. In a desperate act of trying to turn and reach the door I see eyes on me, losing direction my socks get wet, dignity lost and to fatigued to care anymore I complete my task and squidge my way back to the seat.

It’s fair to say that was without doubt the worst bus trip of my life but we did eventually get to De Nang, Four hours ahead of schedule but as a recommendation can I warn you all against a local overnight bus trip should you ever be in a position to consider it.