There were a bunch of open seats on the night-bus when we left from Saigon towards HaTien, but as the night dragged on, more and more people got on the bus and we were soon sandwiched between a woman with a kid at her lap and an old man with coughing fit. It was 5 am when we got off the bus, and not many people at the bus stop spoke English, but one among those that did convinced us to get on the back of his bike while he drove towards another corner of the city. From there, we got into a van that took us to the border, and by 10 am, we were in another country. Only the next day did we realize that we had dropped one of our cameras on the bus, and lost a month’s worth of photo in it alongside. But the stories were in our mind, and there I realized that these stories were one of their kind. These experiences were one off and most likely, never to be had again.
We go to school, go to work, meet our friends for drinks, hang out at the park, watch a show, go to a party, see our parents, take tests, and pay our taxes. Year after year. These are all very important in their own accord, and with much value, yet they lack a certain something. They lack that uncertainty when you hitch a ride in a tractor with 2 men who don’t speak a common language with you. They lack that excitement that you feel when you’re scaling a cliff over the ocean. They lack that lesson in humility you receive when a woman the age of your grandmother offers you some of her lunch and when you try to pay her, she laughs in return.
Because these, and many such moments of travel are rather special, I have decided to share them with you and the world. Everything here is anecdotal and nothing should be taken as a profound statement, but as an intersection of personalities and situation. That being said, this is an account of my (travel) experiences, and I hope it helps you experience the best time that there can be.