Pakse - Don Khong (4000 Islands)

The bus station was like stepping back to India, a hive of activity on a piece of waste ground. There were various types of transport from Jumbo/Sawngthaew, to mini van's, to locals rickety buses, to the VIP options. We were surrounded immediately by the drivers of the jumbo's and mini-vans and we were left torn between the two. We wanted the mini van as it would be a much more comfortable ride but the jumbo was cheap as chips. We were just about to go with the cheap option when then mini-van driver agreed to take us for the same price. This turned out to be a divine intervention.

Our packs were thrown onto the roof much to the shock of the young lad who weighed about as much as my pack and nearly fell over the side as he heaved it on. We climbed in and took our seat, waited for the driver to drink a pint of beer, in one which was slightly unnerving and then we were off.

The van was full of locals and all their shopping as they had come to town to stock up for the month and were now returning to the islands. Their bags spilled over with all sorts of curious leafy greens, abstract shaped fruit, and other indescribable things that we didn't dare ask. Alongside the food were the household items, car parts and last but not least the cage of chickens. We always seem to get some kind of foul on the buses with us.

It was a great journey; we were entertained by the other passengers and their interaction with each other and us. They all lived on the same island in the same villages and it was obvious that everyone knew each others business from their animated expressions as they gossiped. The old man opposite particularly amused us as he watched us listening and kept catching our gaze, rolling his eyes and shaking his head as if to say "Bloody Women, don't listen to them!"

The scenery was much the same as the previous two days with more baron space in between each village. The roads however got worse and went from concrete to dirt track without much warning. This had obviously caused a problem as we pulled up sharply at the side of the road. We didn't know what was happening as locals began piling out of the bus and rushing to a jumbo parked in front. The jumbo we should have been on. We stayed on the bus but were able to see there had been a collision between the jumbo and a motorcyclist and by the look of the body lying still, covered over at the side of the road, the bike rider hadn't made it. It surprised us that the police were already on the scene and using a tape measure and chalk to mark out the area.

Whilst we watched in slight horror the locals from our bus had rounded up the passengers from the jumbo and were helping them aboard the minivan. The passengers were still obviously in shock some not speaking at all, others speaking very quickly going over the events again and again all allowing themselves to be led about and sat down. Although our minivan already seemed full, room was made for another 8 people and their shopping which included bags full of melons. It was so humbling and heartwarming that our van not only stopped to help but looked after others in this way. This would never happen at home, people would go out of their way to avoid stopping or getting involved in such a situation and in our society we can appreciate this to a certain extent but it was refreshing and overwhelming to see such care.

We spent the next 3 hours stopping and starting, dropping and picking up, getting bombarded by the ladies with food sticks who managed to find room at every given opportunity to squeeze aboard and shout and wave chicken under our noses while others just stuck them through the window; we lost count of how many eggs Rod got cracked on his head. The remaining time was spent being stroked by the beaming pregnant lady who sat next to us and was obsessed with our white skin and kept saying "you beautiful, you handsome." She was in actual fact the one that was beautiful inside and out and we enjoyed talking to her and listening to her very good advice about staying on the islands. We have become masters in broken English and dechiphering and reading the signals to have a conversation of sorts.

Before we knew it we were being driven onto the ferry which was in fact a work of mechanical genius and consisted of a buoyant low loader with enough space for a few large vehicles and a couple of bikes attached and towed by a little tug boat to the island.

It had been an eventful trip over the three days involving many different forms of transport. It was a real adventure and a great way to get involved and meet the locals in their own environment rather than seeing the locals who are in customer service in tourist areas that have been scarred by the influx of westerners and their attitudes.