I was very sad to be leaving Laos behind but I focused my mind on the imminent border crossing and what would happen at the other end. My Lonely Planet recommended ‘not using the far South Laos – Vietnam crossings unless there is no other choice as you will most likely be met with costly hassles and delays’. However, I was optimistic that my instincts would not let me down and everything would turn out fine.

The rickety old bus took two hours longer than planned to arrive at the seemingly deserted border crossing of Bo Y. We stopped and people started getting off, so I assumed I should too. We all walked into the immigration office, and the guards gave lots of instructions in Lao. I stood there looking confused for a few minutes until they noticed me and communicated the instructions in the universal language of sign. They looked very surprised to see me and I got the impression that very few travellers pass through this route. This was no bad thing in my eyes, as there were hardly any people so no queue and no chance of getting ripped off for being a foreigner. There was a lot of getting on and off the bus, showing my passport and being directed to different officials but eventually I got the precious stamp on my Vietnamese visa.

As we drove into Vietnam I got the feeling of excitement and anticipation of entering a new country and I tried to notice immediate differences but as we were in the mountains there weren’t really any, so I went back to my book and tried to stop myself falling off the seat every time we went round a hairpin bend taken at full speed. I was heading for the town of Kon Tum in the Central Highlands and as we got closer to civilisation I noticed how much more developed Vietnam is compared to Laos. There were no wooden huts, all the buildings were concrete and brick and there seemed to be a lot more industry. Motorbike repair shops were everywhere and this was my first taste of the moped obsessed side of Vietnam’s transport system.

When I arrived in Kon Tum I was tired and hungry so needed to find a place to stay and some food before anything else. I was greeted by a very friendly moto-taxi driver who offered to take me to the nearest guest house and also fired a barrage of questions at me. I felt bad not answering them so I after he had my basic life history we were on our way. The guest house was basic but cheap and there was a nearby market offering all kinds of Vietnamese street food so I dined with the locals on Pho Bo and delicious fresh spring rolls. There didn’t seem to be a great deal to see in Kon Tum by foot, and I was craving some English speaking company by this time so I decided to get the bus the next day back to backpacker land and meet up with my friends from Chiang Mai. As I wandered back to the guest house to catch up on my journal, I was stopped by some ladies selling food in the street. One of them introduced herself as Hong and spoke good English. She asked me all the usual questions and as she spoke, a small crowd gathered around to watch. She started translating all my answers to the audience and I soon felt as if I was giving some kind of speech. People started asking me questions in Vietnamese and seemed a bit put out that I didn’t speak the language. I tried to explain that I’d just arrived that day, and Hong tried to teach me a few words, which I repeated, much to the amusement of everyone around. After hearing that I was un-married, one of the ladies in the circle got out her mobile phone and proceeded to show me a picture of her son and ask if I was interested! I politely declined and made my excuses to get back. Hong offered me a motorbike tour of the city the next day but I explained I was leaving in the morning. They all waved goodbye cheerfully and I left feeling rather like a local celebrity.

Hong and I in Kon Tum

The next day bright and early I got the bus to Hoi An. I’d heard great things about Hoi An, especially the shopping and although I promised myself and my poor parents who are stuck storing all the clothes I’ve managed to accumulate in the last few years that I would ‘never buy any more clothes'”, for tailor made quality at minuscule prices, I think I could make the exception. The bus ride was not so great, we had to traverse through the mountains which meant great views but not so great smells as all the local people promptly started throwing up into little plastic bags. There was one other Westerner on the bus, a friendly French guy called Floriane. On the way from Danang to Hoi An, we chatted about our travelling experiences and the French welfare system and when we arrived at Hoi An we shared a room together at the Hop Yen hostel. That evening we went exploring the city and sure enough, the shops were amazing. You couldn’t go more than 5 meters without coming across a shop filled with amazing dresses and shoes with gorgeous patterns and fabrics, all custom made. The city itself was also beautiful; the old town centre snaked along the riverfront and was completely pedestrianised apart from bicycles. The streets were very narrow and you could quite easily imagine how it must have looked a hundred years ago, before technology and tourists arrived. Local women walked along in traditional rice hats, carrying bamboo poles with baskets across their shoulders, adding to the authentic scene. We had an amazing meal of snapper wrapped in banana leaf for the bargain price of 60000 dong (two pounds) overlooking the river which was lit up by thousands of Chinese lanterns. I was really happy to be back in backpacker land, there is a reason the places on the beaten path are so popular and it was refreshing to have English speaking company again.

The streets of Hoi An

Cu Dai beach

The other main thing that drew me to Hoi An was the promise of a beach. I had been craving a proper beach since I began travelling, white sands, palm trees and clear waters and this was all only five kilometers away from where I was staying! Early the next morning I got up and hired a bike and headed straight there. I was not disappointed, it was a scorching day and the beach was postcard perfect and almost deserted. I settled down with my book and the waves lapping at my feet and stayed there until late afternoon, alternating between swimming, sunbathing, reading and napping.

Relaxation

The next day I randomly bumped into my friends from Chaing Mai; I was returning my bike and their bus pulled up right next to me. It was great to see them again and we spent the next couple of days catching up on our respective travels and doing some serious custom made shopping. The boys got amazing suits made to fit, and I bought a couple of dresses. For the next few days our lives revolved around fittings and the suit place became our universal meeting place. The clothes were perfect and we all felt like pampered movie-stars when we tried on the finished result. I needed to leave Hoi An quickly before I spent all my months budget so we got the next night bus to the happening beach town of Nha Trang.

Unfortunately from when we arrived until the day we left it pretty much rained solidly so we didn’t get the chance to appreciate the gorgeous beach and take advantage of the snorkelling trips round the limestone islands that sprung up around the coast. We did however, take advantage of the great nightlife and a Mexican restaurant’s opening night that offered a free BBQ and free shots, a perfect shoestring travellers night out. They also gave us all sombrero hats which were the highlight of our night and provided lots of great photo opportunities.

After three nights in Nha Trang I felt ready for some culture so started planning my next move, the enigmatic Saigon or Ho Chi Minh City……