Caged for transport

We arrived back to Saigon around 730 after a tired bus ride from Can Tho. The fatigue of a 7 hour boat ride weighed heavily on us, but the prospect of soft sand on our feet and the sound of the sea kept us optimistic.

The last official bus from Saigon to Vung Tau left at 7 and we were posed with the question of staying the night in Saigon or making our way to a non-official van that would leave at 9. Well, why would we want to waste money on a night in Saigon when we've already spent more than enough time here?

We rushed in a cab to the location told to us by a random worker at the bus depot. The location was at a random gas station on the other side of town. In front of the gas station were about 10 people, seemly normal looking. What a relief, this will be great!

The man in "charge" explained that we would leave in about 45 minutes once all passengers had arrived. Ngoc and I took the 3 seats in the first row of the 12-14 person van. The van was old, beat up, and smelled of fish sauce. No worries though, we would make it to the beach by 11.

After about 45 minutes we felt as if we may be leaving. After filling the van up to the max (including carrying a drunk and disabled man into the seat behind us), we braced for departure. Wait... Why aren't we leaving?

10 more minutes, 20... Doors shut, doors open, can we fit more people in here?

"She gets motion sickness", they say as a young lady is seated next to ngoc sister while holding her head and a bottle of water. One more!

Finally the engine starts and the doors close. Whew! The van pulls slowly forward and then turns into the gas station and up to the pumps. Why couldn't we fill it earlier??? Oh, now we pay and then the gas station gets their cut... That makes sense...

The "man in charge" is now aggravated. He is being told to wait for one more, they are on the way! At this point we have about 20 of us in the van and have no idea how more can fit. This doesn't stop our fearless and greedy operators.

After much cursing and yelling we finally leave. On the road we feel a relief that we may actually be going somewhere. We cross over a long bridge and feel that we have weathered the storm.

Suddenly the van screeches to a halt! The driver and operator get out and open the hood. Is it broken down? Nope! This is just so the cops don't bother us while we are pulled over with no shoulder on a "highway".

A motor bike pulls up and drops off two more men. They open the back door and get squeezed in to sit on the luggage. And we're off! This repeats it self 2 more times before we are at "capacity"

I turned to look back in disbelief that we may have nearly 30 people in this van. What I saw was eyes everywhere. Packed in like sardines, everyone was silent, just waiting patiently for their stop . Some were younger seeming to be making it back home after work in the city, some where old, but all of them kept quiet and only spoke up when something was worth laughing at. The Vietnamese seem to be very good at this, they find humor in many things and share it together. Whether a laugh with friends or a group of 30 strangers (and one white guy), they take full advantage of the endorphins created with a shared laugh.

The road continued on, with bumps, giant pot holes, un-marked construction areas, motor bikes speeding, and all while our van honking constantly. This horn, it sounded ver similar to Peter griffins laugh on family guy. A rapid higher pitched, obnoxious cackle scared every vehicle we came with in 1 foot of.

An hour in now, we are settling into this for sure. We've been through it all...

Not quite all. Remember that girl that gets motion sickness? She's heaving and ready to burst! The operator quickly grabs for a plastic bag and offers it to her. Not a peep from the passengers, just windows opening and the sound of her vomiting. We pass tissue and the operator holds her hair. This repeats it's self another time or so. Just par for the course!

Now the idea that this van would be an express trip was not what I should have expected. We learned quickly that we would have numerous stops. Sometimes in the middle of nowhere with no street lights, sometimes in towns. We stopped to let someone out every 5 minutes it seemed. Imagine taking a bus from NYC to Philly and stopping 15-20 times. Who would agree to take that trip? Well, we did.

At last, we are seeing signs for Vung Tau. Where will we stay? Where is the beach? What is this "bus depot" our demonic driver will drop us off at? It's almost midnight! Leave that up to ngocs sister!

With great relief we exited the van and grabbed a taxi in seconds. He brought us to the beach front and we waived him to keep going when he slowed at the fancy resorts. We decided to get out at a row of seemly decent hotels right on the beach in front of a bustling night market. The hotel owner rushed out and showed us a room.

Terrace, large beds, ac, and for $15 a night...OK!

We made it, our journey was complete! The sad part was that with all of the exhaustion, the complete obsurity of what we just had endured, and the atmosphere of mayhem with the market left me feeling as if it was not reality. How could it be? This must be how people cope with strenuous events in their life, things become so unreal and push you to a point that you can't believe is even happening, then pushes even beyond that. All that is left after is you catching your breath, no other thoughts, just complete emptiness and the hope for the next mornings bounties. These are the sacrifices that must be made...