“I May Be Wrong” Does the title of the post sound familiar? That is where I am starting from. I may be wrong, but this article is about the way I see the world now.

So its truth is absolute. For me.

It is not a recipe, not a teaching, not the announcement of the results of a competition. It was intended to be nothing more than an answer.

In recent months, I have heard very often that “I understand what you are saying, but I cannot live it.”

“I am not yet where you are.” “I am not at the level that you see the world.” All these are signs that suggest another wave, another dimension, another spirituality. I consider it important – and I am writing this entire article in the spirit of this: there are no levels, no places. There is no backwardness. You have states. And these are necessarily different.

I also often receive a rope from another wave, thrown by someone with the intention of saving me.

“Your writings are as if you want to see the good in everything.” “I don’t see what your purpose in life is, and you can’t live without a purpose.” “How do you explain this or that?”

I don’t need to be saved. There’s nothing to it. I’m where I need to be. I don’t want to see things in any way. I don’t look for purposes that others consider important. I don’t explain anything to anyone but myself. And I don’t always consider this important either.

For a long time now, I’ve felt that I have difficulty expressing how I see the world now. Yet, in almost every post I write about this through my experiences.

My goal is not to convince you or to make myself understandable at all costs. But I’m glad if this writing brings you closer to understanding my thinking.

Now, in connection with a special experience, I’m going to go deeper in a different way.

I hear differently

I’ve noticed something about myself in the past few weeks.

Something strange.

Of course I knew this would be a post.

About music, but not about it

I will never get tired of telling you how important music is in my life. I hope you don’t get tired of hearing it from me again from time to time.

I’ve written about this topic in my articles “My thoughts on singing” and “The role of music in my life”.

And although my self-discovery is close to music, this time it won’t be about that.

I paid attention to the lyrics.

To be precise, to how the lyrics of songs have been speaking to me these days.

Identification with poems

I randomly selected a few phrases to give the music a moment of spotlight before I put the lyrics on the stage of my thoughts.

What does music do to me?

It moves. It gives me strength. It makes me think. It motivates. It cheers me up. It saddens me. It sensitizes me. It slows me down. It speeds me up. It calms me down. It energizes me.

And in these flows, the lyrics of the songs play a very important role for me. In the rarest cases, I like those songs that, even if they are musically good, do not tell me anything about themselves in terms of their lyrics.

I have been paying attention to the lyrics of the songs I listen to my whole life.

I often feel that these lyrics are about me too.

I still feel that way now, it has not changed. Only the interpretation of the words has changed recently.

How does music work scientifically?

For me, the most important value in music is the energy it gives.

Many years ago, I first read that if you want to switch off or maybe need something to energize you, then start your favorite music – whatever it is – and you’ll have achieved your goal.

According to psychology, it’s no coincidence that we instinctively reach for our favorite music. Beloved songs can regulate mood, mobilize energy, evoke memories, and even activate the brain’s reward system.

Anger

Metal is my favorite music genre.

It has everything in it.

Pain. Strength. Loss. Endurance. Melancholy.

But if I had to name one feeling that keeps coming back again and again, it’s anger.

And strangely enough, it’s always been easy to fly with it.

This racing tempo hasn’t changed anything for me.

But I no longer identify with the feeling. Strangely enough, I don’t deny it either. The anger of others has simply become meaningless to me. Since this feeling rarely appears in me anymore, I immediately accept without judgment that it’s there in the lyrics, but my mind immediately signals that I don’t need it.

It’s important that the fact that the other person’s anger no longer resonates with me in the same way doesn’t mean that I don’t understand it. I know this feeling, I haven’t forgotten what it’s like. I don’t judge the other person for having it. I don’t want to talk you out of dealing with this very real feeling. I’m just watching it from a different angle.

I’ve discovered that I haven’t turned away from this feeling, but I simply experience anger primarily not as a reaction tied to specific external targets, but as a signal. It’s there. Nothing more than that.

I’m sure that the reason for this is that this kind of feeling has appeared very rarely in the last many, many months. And when it did appear, I immediately turned to it with the question “what problem of mine do you want to indicate?”.

In other words, when I recognize the feeling of anger, and – usually – in a matter of moments I find its relevant cause, it simply doesn’t integrate into me, that is, it doesn’t internalize. I live what Buddhism teaches: I recognize, examine, and let go.

This occurs to me while listening to the lyrics in such a way that when I interpret the lyrics, my mind reacts to the meaning as a kind of subtitle.

I will show you a couple of examples taken at random from the songs I have been listening to these days. In parentheses, I will also add the subtitle created by my mind.

• “The law is against you, you don’t understand it.” (Nothing is against me, nothing is for me. Everything is as it is.)
• “Lost in a dead end, they thirst for your blood.” (Maybe so. But they are just doing their job, I have no anger.)
• “There is no mercy lurking in my heart.” (There is no mercy, because it is not preceded by the anger that would create mercy. The triggering feeling is missing.)
• “What is the point of living if one does not know what is good?” (No one should ask this question, but I will not judge anyone who does. I do not see the meaning of this sentence.)

I really like this narrative.

These thoughts do not appear as a refutation and denial of things in a split second, I simply interpret them instinctively and measure the lines for myself. The most beautiful thing for me is that this double work does not burden my brain.

Living with anger peacefully. It is a terribly good experience.

Desires

The pain of losing something, the longing for something else.

This is also a central theme in many songs.

I’ll start with a few examples.

• “A whirlpool is spinning in the depths of the night, I should swim away alive.” (It is spinning. But I don’t have to escape. It’s more expedient to swim with that whirlpool. I like to live and I like that the whirlpool has always thrown me out on the right side. Someday it won’t be like that, but I have no problem with that either.)
• “But it was fairer than they do now, When the slap comes from behind.” (There is no such thing as fairer. It was different, because everything always changes.)

I have tried to say it a few times, but I still feel like I haven’t managed to put the idea of ​​a state without desire into a clear form.

Perhaps this is where I came closest to a clear thought:

“Desire in itself is not a problem. Buddhism does not ask me not to desire. It asks me not to identify with my desire. I must not confuse desire with the thought that without it I am not complete.”

What gives me freedom is that when I have an idea, an expectation about something that is in front of me, I usually react to myself in two ways.

One is to remind myself that there is no need to imagine anything, I will see it soon. This is very good, because it creates an anticipation full of excitement in me, which, for example, makes me unable to sleep the night before the event. I love nights like this.

Another option that often comes up for me is to smile in advance at how many aspects of the experience will be different when it happens. I can look forward to how much fun it will be to notice the differences.

Thinking without expectations has brought immeasurable freedom to my life.

Certainty

The vision of the “future” and the emergence of hopes is a third area of ​​interest.

• “I am still straining in this body, Like a genie in a bottle. I would give anything if I knew there was more, That would set me free.” (I am not straining. There is no bottle. I would not give anything. There is no release. I do not need to know anything about it.)
• “I am slowly running out of food, I have nowhere to go for a long time, No one is coming for me, I have reached the end of the slope.” (Is there even a slope? Is there an end? Is this interesting to know?)

Since I stopped obsessively predicting the unpredictable paths of the future, everything has become much simpler around me.

Everything is more practical.

If I only decide where I’m going to move to that day after waking up, then questions like how I’m going to get there, how long the trip will take, are no longer very important. Where do I buy a ticket? What if I’m late? Will there be a place to stay?

In its simple practicality, there is always a device that takes me to where I’ll lay my head.

And if I happen to have to sleep on the street? I get another adventure. Do I have to beg in a church so I don’t get wet? At least I’ll have the opportunity to try the famous hospitality in person.

I know for sure that I’ll do everything I can to avoid the really unpleasant things. I don’t doubt that I have the ability to do so.

But if it turns out differently. I don’t need to blame. I don’t blame myself or my circumstances.

Now the certainty that something will happen is enough.

Because that means I’m alive.

The how is not so important.

The narrative

I won’t go on with the feelings, I think I’ve shown enough now.

I could continue by saying that I increasingly question terms like “good”, “bad”, “need”, “want”, “must”. And then I would write a very long post.

That’s not my goal.

I just wanted to show a little more of what you can see in my everyday life through my posts.

And I experience with a grateful heart that this kind of thinking does not lead my life towards madness.

But simply towards a peaceful, free existence.

That’s why I’ve been answering the question “What are you doing there?” more and more often lately simply this:

I exist here.

The post 270. | I hear differently first appeared on Digital Nomad Blog.

I finished the previous post about Hanoi today. I’m going to write this post about Haiphong, since I’m not there anymore.

Where I am will be a surprise for the next post.

In this post, we’ll be in Haiphong.

Why?

After 5 nights in Hanoi, it’s time to leave. I want to explore more places in Vietnam.

Just two hours ago, a friend of mine asked me how I decide where to go next.

It just so happened that all I knew was that I wanted to go to Ha Long Bay.

I don’t know much about this place, but the numbers I knew called me here. 1,500-2,000 km2 of area, a 434 km2 UNESCO World Heritage Site and about 1,600 limestone cliffs and islands.

And of course, the sea.

It was clear that I would not miss this area.

I woke up on Saturday, looked at the map of this large area and decided to come here. There was no particular reason. Because there didn’t have to be a reason.

On the bus again

I bought a bus ticket. The three-hour journey seemed like a child’s play after my previous trips.

The bus left from the old quarter, which I had already visited in Hanoi. This part of the city was just as chaotic as the first time.

The experience was different this time, in that I tried a fried, sugar-coated dough ball cake. The best experience of my two visits to the old quarter was this cake.

The bus left at 2:30 PM, and the taxi dropped me off at 1:05 PM. So I still had more than an hour to walk around here.

The term “more than an hour” is inflated very hard here in Asia. Half a minute after I left the taxi, I received a message. Today’s bus leaves at 2:00 PM, please be at the boarding point at 1:50 PM.

I knew I shouldn’t come here at the last minute.

The bus was professional. Friendly staff, air conditioning, chilled bottles of water and double-checking the number of people.

One hour after departure, one of the group leaders came to me and asked where my accommodation was, because they would take me there when we arrived.

It turned out that this bus doesn’t actually go to Haiphong, where I bought a ticket. This road leads to where I finally arrived 5 days later.

He is very sorry – the young man said – for the inconvenience, the bus will stop a little further away. But he will help me, he will call me a taxi in advance. I did not accept this with thanks. I will solve it where it is necessary. In any case, I appreciated the gesture.

The bus stopped at a huge roundabout on a highway. They apologized here too, but tis is the end of my bus trip now. LOL.

I hadn’t even set foot on the road when a taxi driver was already there and said, somewhat intolerantly, that we could go.

I also used this somewhat intolerantly way. I was sure that he didn’t understand a word I said, but it didn’t bother me. Moreover, if I remember correctly, I didn’t make it any easier for him, because I said the words in Hungarian. And only in my head. There, too, only silently.

I signaled to him with my eyes that, man, I’m getting off now, you can go because of me. Then – to the amazement of many taxi drivers – I sat down on the roadside. I looked up where I was. A little far from the city meant about 25 kilometers. I also looked up where my accommodation was.

Then I called a taxi using my app and left the roadside taxi drivers behind.

After half an hour, I arrived in Haiphong.

My room

Yesterday a friend asked me how my room was now.

Comfortable. That was the first word that came to mind.

Then I said clean, actually just a little dirty, but that was absolutely within healthy limits. Three things stuck with me. The hair in the drain. The soap dish with soap relics. And the toothbrush cup.

I never thought of using this, but now for some reason I looked into it. I realized that it hadn’t been washed in a long time.

I don’t mind these kinds of inconveniences at all. This genre is like that and that’s it.

There was one more strange thing about this accommodation. The entrance hall was locked every night around 11 o’clock. Since I was out in the city all four nights, I had to wake the doorman every night. He didn’t take it badly. He slept there 4 meters from the lock. Therefore, it was a bit incomprehensible why the gate had to be closed, but just like choosing the next destination, this also doesn’t need to be understood.

However, the fact that the door leading to the staircase was also locked could be a real headache. The lock was turned outside from the door. Every room had bars on every window.

In other words, in the event of a fire, we would have been faced with severely limited options. I bet if the doorman didn’t open the lock and we couldn’t break the thick glass of the door, we might get fried.

I think a European fire safety facility manager would have a heart attack if he stayed in this hotel.

The city

AI said about this city that it doesn’t really have a lot of attractions.

It considered a single old wooden pagoda to be worth mentioning.

I visited it the next day. Sights ticked.

It was a really old building. Very peaceful, a bit overcrowded with objects. However, the wooden structure and the roof gave it a special atmosphere. The apparently old plaster on some parts of the walls contributed to this.

And the beautiful garden. With quite a few statues and a small pond full of goldfish. The garden was so friendly that I started meditating while sitting on one of the benches.

The mosquitoes voted down my plan. So I looked around for a while longer.

Then I concluded that this was a hospitable city. I had to realize that the difficult escape route mentioned in the hotel was probably just a tradition.

Because while I was looking inside the temple, everyone else quietly left the area. And then someone locked the exit.

I immediately remembered how great it was to live in a Buddhist temple for 10 days in February. Well, maybe this will be the opportunity again. I shuddered a little at the thought that if I slept here in the courtyard, the anti-meditation insects would eat me till the morning.

I even wondered a little about how many points from a cultural perspective the stunt of climbing over the fence would be worth. Luckily, a monk appeared at that moment, whom I had politely greeted with a bow and a wai a few minutes before.

Maybe that was my luck? LOL. He was let me outside. And we didn’t even need a fire to do it.

Anyway, I walked around the city a lot in the next few days.

In summary, I think I managed to get to know a very nice town on my chance trip.

The city center, located a few kilometers from my accommodation, was bustling with real city life. Lots of shops, gyms, restaurants, street vendors.

And my favorite, the many cafes.

I spent the next three days in the city center from morning to night. I tried quite a few cafes. The coffee was delicious everywhere, the wifi was excellent, and the chairs were comfortable.

This city surprised me with a really special experience. In one of the cafes, they didn’t speak English, the drink menu was in Vietnamese. So I chose a drink pointed on the picture.

I love the courtesy with which they treat me here. I point to a picture with the clear intention of wanting to drink it. But they always ask for confirmation whether I’m sure of my choice. This was the case again. The only problem is that they definitely want everything to be in Vietnamese. Since I don’t understand the question, I usually just give a thumbs up to indicate that the choice is OK.

It’s a simple process. I point to the picture. She’ll probably repeat what I ordered. I use an international sign to say that I want to drink what’s in the picture, but whatever you bring, it’ll be good.

Now the lady really wanted that confirmation, not just on a symbolic level, so on the third try she said two very interesting words: avocado smoothie.

I think she saw from me that from now on she wasn’t getting the confirmation that it won’t matter, but that I really want to drink this.

We both won.

I’ve never had an avocado smoothie before. But here I had two. I think if I don’t say more about it, the quantity will say for me how delicious it was.

I will tell you: it was incredibly delicious. The soft creaminess that made it melt in my mouth, the softness of the avocado, its raw yet ripe flavor, the right amount of sugar, and the excellent foam on top.

For some reason, I didn’t care how many calories it had. I just had to have a second one!

The Belarusian connection

There will be one more person who will remind me of the city, not just the isolation and the avocado.

Arriving at my accommodation, I saw a – presumably – European guy, with whom I greeted each other.

Then I retired to my room for a couple of hours. Then I set off to explore the surrounding evening streets a bit.

At that point, we ran into each other again. We introduced ourselves to each other, got talking. After a few sentences, he asked where I was going. I said I had no destination, I just wanted to walk around the area.

His next question was, “A beer, maybe?”. With that, we established our habit for that day and the next three evenings.

That day, we drank beer and talked for two hours before going to bed.

On the following days, we would gather in the city or around the accommodation around 6-7 pm and have dinner together and drink draft beer.

The record was set the next night, when we both drank 5 large jugs.

I think the beer here works as an energy drink, because even with the four liters per night consumption, I didn’t feel much in my head, but I could hardly fall asleep.

After we repeatedly passed the padlock at his place.

Evgenij (I don’t even know why my blog is anonymous for such acquaintances) first came to Asia 20-25 years ago, and has spent many years here since then.

I learned a lot of linguistic, historical and cultural interesting things from him.

Apart from all this, we said goodbye to each other this morning, saying that we were both very happy about our chance meeting again, because we appreciated the conversations.

We also parted ways with him in a way that we would keep in touch and we were almost both sure that we would meet again.

There was nothing left to say:

Бывай, Хайфон!

The post 269. | Haiphong first appeared on Digital Nomad Blog.

I decided to watch only one of them.

The program I missed would have been very interesting, but I don’t feel any regret that I didn’t watch it.

The experience I did not miss, I would forever regret not seeing, now that I know what it was like.

Coffee and photo

This story is about a working Friday, mostly the end of it. I spent the morning in my small 19 m2 room.

When I went to have breakfast, I took my laundry from my room on the 5th floor to the reception. I waited patiently for 10 minutes for someone to come there, but then it seems the lady had something else to do.

So I looked for a pen on the counter, saw the hotel business cards and wrote on the paper “please wash my clothes. Room 502.” I added a smiley face next to it, indicating that I was sorry that I couldn’t tell you my request in person.

Around lunchtime, I went out to become an attraction.

There are a lot of cafes in the area. I try to visit more of the cafes if I can. That day I went into a small cafe at the end of a small dead end. I welcome every experience with joy, so I wasn’t put off by the fact that the young waitress told me they didn’t have coffee Americano, but they did have Vietnamese.

I hadn’t had one anyway. I thought it was about time. It was a very delicious coffee. With milk. Those who know me a little better know that I don’t like or drink milk. However, in this form I got a really tasty drink. I don’t know what had made her crazy, but it was insanely delicious.

So, I was drinking my coffee peacefully when suddenly the young girl appeared next to me. With a Polaroid camera in her hand. And she very kindly, a little shyly, but terribly politely asked if she could take a picture of me.

It was such a cute scene. Of course, that’s not why I agreed. After all, that kind of thing has never bothered me. To tell the truth, in Laos and Vietnam, a lot of people want to take pictures with me, the Western foreigner.

She took the picture, then handed it to me, which became visible when I held it in my palm. For fun, I made a video of how this little photo was born.

And the little girl immediately pinned it to a cork board – which I hadn’t noticed until then – where she already had quite a few photos of the guests. But there was no picture of a Western foreigner on it yet.

As a small cultural digression, I have to describe the following.

In Thailand, I was a farang, in Laos, I was a falang. This is not a pejorative adjective, it means something like a Western foreigner. Not simply a foreigner, but a Westerner. The origin of the word is the word Frank, which refers to French people.

The word Western in Vietnamese is Tây, which is pronounced “taei”, but you can also hear it as “thai”. This is me too, I sometimes hear people talking about me and using this word.

So, here in Vietnam I am both a Falang and a Thai! Haha. Okay, I know this is a linguistically abused pun, but I couldn’t help it. And, if I want to be really delicious, I’ll be pad thai.

The clothes were not waiting in my room. For a moment, I imagined that I would live in the last T-shirt I had for the next few months. Then I quickly realized that I was not living in 502, but in 501.

I tried to make sure that the person in the other room did not have to enjoy my used clothes for long. I went back to the reception and corrected the mistake. I received my clothes shortly after.

X Space Immersive

I waited for it to be late afternoon so I could leave. I walked to a huge plaza a little further away.

I went to see the X Space Immersive experience exhibition.

I enjoyed the experience through several rooms. Leaving one, I entered the next. I could also say that I went from one world to another.

The first room was my favorite. It was a room with an endless space filled with mirrors. All the walls were made of mirrors. With the help of LED light strings, a small park was arranged in the approximately 4×4 meter room. A little way around a silver tree – standing in the middle of the room. Such strings also hung from the ceiling. And they constantly changed their color.

As I entered the room, my breath caught. The atmosphere of the room was so wonderful that I simply stared out of my mind for a long time and thought about how nice it would be to sit in such a world.

I took a lot of photos, it was very interesting how the room was endless in different directions. Then I sat down on the glass floor, leaned my back against the “tree trunk” and was simply there on this super planet.

Elephants, tigers, and buffaloes roamed the walls. In colors dreamed up by their creators, not in their natural habitat. Birds showed their grace. Snakes slithered in the grass on the floor, scaring other small creatures with their presence.

My movement, touching the wall, conjured up a multitude of butterflies.

The sounds of the jungle made the experience complete. I really liked the atmosphere of this room too.

To be honest, I could have imagined such an environment as my natural habitat.

So it was especially nice to dive into the sea in the next room.

And watch a whale, a shark, or a school of rays swim around me.

Here I was the one who scared the living creatures. When I tried to touch a jellyfish, they quickly disappeared in alarm.

I spent quite a bit of time in this room too.

And the best part was that I didn’t even have to think for a second about how I was going to breathe underwater.

Space was waiting for me.

Next came a room where short 3D films were projected on a small dome. Under the dome, there were quite a few beanbags inviting me to rest on them.

I lay down on one of them and enjoyed the world spinning and turning around me for half an hour.

First, I visited a space station. It was an incredible experience to see it inside and out. The experience must have been like flying freely in space. I was completely captivated by the atmosphere that only space can create.

In the next story, I visited a special planet with the help of a flying car. We were driving among dinosaurs while I was neither an adult nor a child, simply a traveler enjoying the journey.

Two more rooms were waiting for me.

One of them seemed simple because it only had lights in it. But because of the mirrors, the musical effects, and the atmosphere created, this room was also beyond imagination. I loved being there.

Finally, I found myself in space again, but now I could see the spaces from the perspective of stars and entire universes.

This was on a larger scale than before. I felt happy to be here. I didn’t feel small or lonely among the stars. I was simply a part of it all for a long time.

Until a dragon chased me away.

Well, no one chased me away. It was simply time to leave this exhibition.

I was just getting ready to leave when a family came into the room. Up until then, I had been completely alone in all the rooms.

It was really cool to see how the children immediately took possession of the entire universe. It was a stark contrast to my slow steps and inquisitive attention to see how the young people were conquering the space by running and jumping.

They had the same interest – I felt – as I did, only they were discovering it all at a faster pace.

Other adventures awaited me

I left the exhibition.

I returned a few minutes later.

I wanted to listen to music, but I realized with regret that I had lost my earphones.

Again.

The good news is that there was only one place it could have been. I was almost certain that the messy thing had left me lying on the beanbag.

The guys were helpful. But they didn’t have the device. There were already two families in the room. Not suspecting anyone, but not trusting sublimation in this case, I gave up trying to find it.

One of the guys asked if I was okay with it not being found. I told him that on the one hand there was nothing I could do, and on the other hand I could. It was just okay. I try not to get too attached to things.

At least not so much as to make a problem out of something like that.

I was already very hungry, so I had dinner in the mall.

Slowly it was closing time, people started to file out. I simply followed the crowd.

That’s how I arrived at the garages, where there was nothing to look for.

I went back to get lost in the huge building.

Because only the emergency exits were marked with signs. Of course, there was definitely a sign saying where the exit was, but I couldn’t read it.

After walking around the entire complex two or three times and spending half an hour looking at the same closed shops and restaurants over and over again, I finally met a security guard. He rescued me from the endless mall.

Headphones plus, keychain minus

My time in Hanoi ended the next day.

I packed my things in the morning. I threw all my new memories with them and left the hotel.

The old quarter, which I had already gotten to know, was waiting for me to take a bus from there to leave this exciting city.

But before that, I was lucky enough to find a large tech store where I could buy my third pair of headphones this year. I bought the same ones I left the first time, for the same price I bought the second one for.

So I actually got a better quality device again for a very cheap price.

I didn’t even regret that I lost my previous one yesterday.

While I was waiting for the bill in the store, a small family appeared around me.

Two very cute little girls were playing around me.

I unhooked my little plush keychain and gave it to the older girl. No words were needed. She didn’t understand why, but I showed her to take it. She took it and thanked her without words.

I was very happy for her that I could leave Hanoi without the key ring.

I will take much more valuable memories from here.

The post 268. | Hanoi asked for another day first appeared on Digital Nomad Blog.

I can’t always be in such a “zen mood” to just go and see the sights of a big city.

So I planned my Thursday day. The plan was to work at home in the afternoon after visiting the selected places.

It was evening by the time I got home.

I expected X number of experiences. It ended up being 2 X.

Now I’m writing down my experiences so I can relive this wonderful day.

Let’s make it 4 X!

Walking in Hanoi

I planned to walk twenty kilometers within the city. I managed to do it.

I have mentioned several times – and will probably write many more times – that I love walking. There are so many interesting, otherwise imperceptible things to discover on two legs!

I don’t think of big things at all when I do this.

A lonely factory building towering over the palm trees. A thirsty rooster covered in a cage, which is being watered at that moment. A very small songbird locked in a cage.

In addition to pictures, I also like scents and smells. The enchanting scent of perfume that appears by chance, or the stench that hangs around the meat market, are all experiences in their own right.

Among the senses, sound is also important to me during walks. In Hanoi, there is less music playing on the streets than in Laos. There, enchanting local music was almost always playing from somewhere. Here, the natural noise of the street dominates. I like that too. There’s a delightful rhythm to the traffic if I pay attention. And of course I hear people talking. The language they speak is becoming less and less foreign. And even though I don’t understand a word of it, it’s still somehow nice to hear.

What I like best is hearing people’s names. Fortunately, this is a very common experience on the streets here.

The Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum

This wasn’t the first place I wanted to visit. It was also very close, as it turned out. I was looking for the other place when I saw everyone frantically queuing to enter through a gate. Since my route took me there, I joined the line.

To be on the safe side, I asked a guy where we were going. It turned out that we were at the entrance to the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum.

So this place became the first one that day.

Since I’m not familiar with Vietnamese history, and someone else had asked, I looked up who the famous statesman was.

Ho Chi Minh was the most important historical figure in modern Vietnam: he led the independence struggle against French colonial rule, and then the communist state of North Vietnam. Many Vietnamese still regard him as a symbol of national independence, which is why he is often simply called “Uncle Ho”.

The respect he has for him is felt everywhere in this city. And in the mausoleum, it is expressed with incredible intensity.

The mausoleum is located on a huge area. The complex is 32 hectares (320,000 square meters).

The atmosphere is not unfriendly, but very strict. Entry to this huge area is free, but you have to follow the rules. First of all – like at airports – you have to place everything metal on a tray and they scan it along with your luggage. During this time, you have to go through a metal detector gate. Then you have to leave your bags and backpacks in a safe.

I took my laptop with me that day. I naively thought that I would have the opportunity to work during the day. A little embarrassed, I left my backpack on the shelf. I was confident that it would be there in its entirety when I came to pick it up a few hours later.

Because it would take a few hours to explore the area.

I started talking to a German woman inside the cordon leading in. Because you had to walk along a long, designated path. She came in alone, leaving her husband and six-month-old baby outside, because children under a certain age are not allowed in.

She was allowed to bring her camera, which she then had to hand in after a few hundred meters, just like she had to hand in her bags at the entrance. This was a bit incomprehensible, but I think we all felt that there was no room for argument here.

We walked inside the cordon. Outside, at specified distances and at every turn, there were armed guards in snow-white officer uniforms. They performed their duty very strictly. I could not make eye contact with them.

There were even more people walking towards the mausoleum building. They were standing in line at the entrance, then in the stairwell at every turn.

I took a picture of the entrance to the mausoleum. One of the guards immediately started shaking his head very sternly and rolling his eyes. I couldn’t help but apologize and didn’t want to take any more pictures until we got to the other side of the mausoleum.

We went up the stairs at a fast pace. Everyone was told to move quickly. We could walk around the leader’s tomb in a small room, but we didn’t have much chance to stop. Those who stopped stopped for a bow and a handshake at most, and then moved on.

There were guards with bayonets at all four corners of the coffin. I don’t think there was anyone in the room who asked anything or didn’t do things “as they should”. I had the feeling that there were more soldiers in that room than visitors.

I read several quotes from Ho Chi Minh during the day. He must have been a remarkable statesman, I’m sure. He stole his way into my heart with this quote:

I have just received news that has deeply moved and delighted me. It is that the National Assembly intends to award me the Gold Star Order, the highest honor in our country. I express my gratitude to the National Assembly. However, I respectfully request that the National Assembly allow me to postpone receiving the order. Why? Because the order is given to those who have rendered meritorious service; but I consider myself not yet worthy of such a high honor bestowed by the National Assembly.

After the dim, slightly oppressive atmosphere of the mausoleum, the air in the rest of the area was freer. It is true that soldiers were everywhere to keep order, but it was not as difficult a feeling for me as it was in the building.

Next in line was an area dedicated to the memory of Ho Chi Minh. I had to buy a ticket for this one.

There was a lot to learn here about how the beloved politician lived, worked, and lived his everyday life. It was interesting to see how the things I had learned and partly experienced came to life in my life.

The difficult history of this oppressed country gradually emerged. I walked around the area with mixed feelings.

The Ho Chi Minh Museum

This huge museum is located in the complex.

It presents the life, political career, and the history of the Vietnamese independence movement of Ho Chi Minh, in a rather monumental and highly symbolic exhibition style.

I’ll start by saying that on the first floor I was able to see the exhibition dedicated to the 156th anniversary of Lenin’s birth. Memories rushed in. When I was young, Lenin was still very much present in my present.

It was very strange to feel what I had experienced back then after so many years.

The rest of the museum was not so cheerful, because independence had a hard price. It was measured in war. Accordingly, the objects on display and information banners had difficult stories to tell.

Objects of everyday life told stories about poverty. War relics showed the horrors that took the lives of poor people.

I still found a “favorite” exhibit.

This mini pyramid immediately captured me. I felt it had a strangely timeless and “human-history” feel to it. It appeared to me as diverse as the world in my eyes. It seemed like a kind of spiritual-modernist vision of man.

I first saw Jesus above Adam and Eve. I think this familiar image drew my eye there. Familiar, yet new. I had never seen Jesus depicted in pants before. With a belt around his waist! It took me out of the classical Christian pictorial tradition.

That’s why I went around the little pyramid and why I’m writing about it here.

For me, this pyramid embodies an open attitude towards the world. It’s just the right symbol for my own journey.

The One Pillar Pagoda

This place was my first destination this morning, and I didn’t know that it was also located within the large area where I was.

This pagoda is one of the most famous temples in Hanoi. I liked its history so much that I decided to share it with you.

One Pillar Pagoda became one of the most famous temples in Hanoi because of its very unique architecture and strong symbolic meaning.

The pagoda was originally built in the 11th century and stands on a single stone pillar in the middle of a small lake, as if a lotus flower were rising from the water. In Buddhism, the lotus is a symbol of purity and spiritual ascension, so the entire building is actually a huge symbolic “lotus built of stone”.

According to legend, Emperor Lý Thái Tông met the Buddhist goddess of compassion in a dream, who gave him a child while sitting on a lotus. After he actually had a son, he had the pagoda built out of gratitude. For this reason, many people still visit it today, praying for a child or good luck.

I read this story while writing this post, and when I was there, I didn’t know it yet.

That’s why the little thing I felt at this temple is particularly interesting.

I walked around the small building and the small pool at its foot. That’s probably all that’s left of the lake in the story today.

You can go up a few steps to the tiny shrine. People were queuing here to make the 2-3 meters up. And the thought crossed my mind that it was completely unnecessary to go up there. My experience doesn’t have to involve going up here.

I didn’t think so because of the line, because I probably shouldn’t have waited more than two minutes. It was simply here that I got the feeling that the experience was complete for me even if I didn’t take the last steps that seemed “necessary.”

I was here, I will remember this place, the moments, the old Vietnamese man enthusiastically telling an Indian couple the story of the pagoda, or whatever else will want to live in me.

I spent some beautiful moments here. Also.

The Old Quarter

From here I took a longer walk through the city to arrive at the old quarter of the city.

During the walk I came across many interesting things.

The most interesting of all was when – on two occasions – three soldiers marched towards me on the sidewalk. They moved in sync, and the characteristic movement of their arms was so cinematic that I smiled for minutes afterwards.

I saw a few architectural masterpieces on the road, as well as a monumental parade ground. I was a little afraid that I would get caught in the rain, but in the end the weather was kind to me and I escaped getting wet.

The part of the city called the old quarter did not enchant me. It is a very crowded part of the city, with many locals, even more tourists and crazy traffic. For some reason, on this day I wanted to leave rather than stay here any longer.

I can say that I saw it, but I can’t tell you more about it.

St. Joseph’s Cathedral

This is a very beautiful cathedral from the outside.

It was an interesting experience to come across a Christian cathedral in the heart of Hanoi.

Unfortunately, I only saw it from the outside, because when I was there, it was not possible to see it from the inside. I regret this a little, because based on the pictures I found, it must be beautiful from the inside as well.

I had a coffee near it and looked at it from the outside for a long time, but life didn’t want me to see it from the inside today.

No problem. It was still impressive, and it was really nice to rest near it.

And here I got the bracelet, which I had been patiently waiting for to arrive.

An old lady asked me to buy something from her. She was selling bracelets. I told her thank you, I don’t want any. I was really polite, I thanked her with a smile, but I didn’t want to buy anything.

So she gave me one as a gift.

I think this is part of the game here.

Since I naturally didn’t want to accept it as a gift, I thanked him and took out my wallet.

I had 20,000 VND in change (240 HUF, 0.8 USD). I thought it was not enough, but I gave it to him, and then I thought about how to solve the situation, because the next banknote was a 200,000. (2,400 HUF, 7.8 USD).

He solved the problem, I simply took the 200,000. I didn’t mind. He thanked me right away and called me his friend. That’s not a lot of money for that, 220,000 VND is not much.

Railway Street

I continued my journey to Hanoi’s famous Railway Street.

This is a few hundred meters long street with a pair of railway tracks in the middle instead of a sidewalk.

The people living on the street have arranged themselves to serve tourists. Every house is a small cafe. There are chairs set up, you can order drinks.

All this so that we can sit down and wait comfortably for the trains that run according to the schedule.

I waited here for almost an hour, drinking a delicious watermelon juice. I politely refused those who wanted to sell me all kinds of things.

Finally the train arrived.

It was magical. It filled the entire street.

The locals took care of us. As the train came, they made sure that everyone was sitting in their seats, they even pulled the chairs a little further in.

It was necessary. The train passed so close to me that if I had stretched out my hand, I could have touched it.

Of course, I didn’t want to do that, I was simply enjoying the huge crowd flowing past me at a not-so-slow speed.

I also made a video of the train passing by, so I know that it passed by me for exactly 1 minute. The train was not short.

Lotte Observation Deck

By now I was a little tired from walking all day, so I called a taxi and did the next 8 km by car.

In 40 minutes!

Enjoying the chaotic traffic from a car is a completely different experience than gambling in traffic as a pedestrian.

It’s scary how everyone drives, but I’ve mentioned this several times. The only difference was that I frantically pressed the brakes a few times that didn’t exist in front of me. In vain, my instincts work.

I was glad that I didn’t have to drive.

I was also a little sorry that I didn’t do these 8 km on foot, because I saw a lot of places from the car where I would have stopped if I had walked here.

But of course I can’t see everything, exactly what I managed to see in the end was enough.

I arrived at the Lotte Tower. I looked for directions to the observation deck, but couldn’t find them.

It soon became clear why.

There are two Lotte Towers in the other one and I didn’t choose the one I wanted to go to. Luckily I was confronted with this at the information desk and the woman who came to my aid was kind enough to order me another taxi.

This time it was a motorbike, so after the previous crazy traffic I was able to throw myself back into the thick of the street.

Another 6 km, another half hour and another dose of excitement awaited me.

Finally I arrived at the tower I was heading for.

The observation deck is located on the 65th floor. I don’t remember if I’ve ever looked up at such a tall building from its base.

An incredible sight. I had strange feelings standing at the base of this huge building.

Soon the elevator was racing up with me. Two signs accompanied my way up. One was a meter counter that constantly showed how high I was above the street. The other was my ear, which got blocked twice during the one-minute journey up.

I reached the top in 50 seconds. The altitude counter stopped at 272 meters.

As I got out of the elevator, I stopped too. As did my breathing.

Seeing Hanoi from a height of 300 meters is an unforgettable experience. These 300 meters show the city in such detail that I just stared at it for minutes. I sat down in front of the glass wall and discovered random spots of the city one after another.

The size of the settlement from here is impressive. The city limits disappearing into the distance, other skyscrapers nearby, the bustling bustle of the street… All this spiced up with such oddities as people playing tennis on the roof of a hotel about 50 floors below me, or the light of the lights constantly flashing as darkness approached.

I bought an entrance ticket that also included a VR game. So for 10 minutes, I ran around a small area of ​​the circular corridor with VR goggles on my head and a rifle in my hand, shooting Lego zombies.

I didn’t die during the game, I just ran out of time, and I received a compliment from the young man running the game: “It was a good game, sir!” I even fell on my face once in the crazy running. 10 minutes after finishing the game, I noticed that both my knees were bleeding, as well as the area around the tattoo on my hand.

No way! If you can, don’t fall on the floor while killing zombies. This is a serious lesson. It could be, but luckily it was just a game accident.

I also remembered an Airsoft game from a few years ago. Back then, we fought in an abandoned building under real conditions. Running into a corridor, I slipped on the fallen leaves there and fell on the butt of my gun, cracking a rib.

The next time we were there – knowing the place – I prepared for this corridor, and when I slipped while running, I quickly leaned on the wall. So a broken tile easily cut two of my fingers.

Blood was still flowing. I have to slowly learn that it’s not good to play with guns!

In any case, this shooting here and now was very good. Of course, I was dripping with water by the end, so I quickly drank the delicious virgin cocktail that came with the ticket.

Then I went to the photo point like this. Here I stood on a platform that had a glass bottom, so I could feel that I was standing in the air above the street.

I took a few meditative pictures. Then – since this was also part of my package – a few pictures were taken of me using a traditional camera.

I could have chosen one of these and had them printed for me, but I repeatedly told the young guy who was operating the camera that I didn’t need a paper picture. It would be enough if he sent me the one that was taken.

We had a nice chat with the guy. At that point, all I had to do was leave and get a little gift.

I told the guy that I didn’t know what the gift would be, but I was sure I didn’t need it. So – if he wanted it – I would gladly give it to him. He thanked me, but didn’t accept it.

So I finally went to the exit, where a nice girl showed me where I could choose a little souvenir. Key chains, little plates, and I don’t remember what they were.

I asked the girl if she had children. She didn’t. If she had any relatives with children. She found my questions strange, so I told her that I wanted to give her the little plush stuffed animal key chain I had chosen.

Unbelievable, but she didn’t accept it either.

So I hung my little gift on my bag.

Spoiler alert: two days later I found its new owner, but that’s for another post.

On the way home

Meanwhile, it was completely dark.

After a quick phone check, I was happy to learn that my hotel was only 2 kilometers away, so I ended the day with a refreshing walk.

I was happy that in addition to the many experiences, I also had to walk 20 km today.

I didn’t work, I just carried my laptop around all day.

I didn’t regret it one bit!

I packed a lot of experiences. Again.

When I got home, I took a cold shower and stretched out on my bed tiredly.

I loved this day too.

It was nice to walk around Hanoi from the past to the clouds.

The post 267. | A day off in Hanoi first appeared on Digital Nomad Blog.

It’s probably just for me.

I’ll share it anyway. Maybe it will tell you something too.

Why are there so many cards on the streets?

I noticed on Koh Samui that there were so many cards of all kinds on the side of the road.

I didn’t think about it for a long time. I just took note of it. I’ve seen a lot of cards lying around, that’s all.

I’ve seen them in Thailand, Indonesia and Laos. Sometimes just one card, sometimes several together.

Then I saw a Joker in Laos once. For some reason I wanted to pick it up, but in the end I stepped over it.

That’s when it started.

I started thinking about what the secret could be in the fate of the cards.

I read about it, and later I talked to someone about it. The reason is what I suspected.

Card games are illegal in these countries. So, if there’s a risk of getting caught or the player doesn’t want to keep the evidence with them, they simply throw away the deck.

The game is okay on certain occasions (funerals, weddings) and there is no problem if it is played in private.

I understood a situation in hindsight. I saw a couple of women playing one time. They were playing in great spirits. It was such a lively scene that I asked them if I could take a photo of them. They objected vehemently.

The Joker

That particular Joker came my way in Houayxay, my first Lao settlement.

I still don’t know why I wanted to pick it up.

Two days later I thought about going back to get it. Yet there was only one Joker lying on the banks of the Mekong.

Then on my last day – the Thursday before the two-day boat trip – in Houayxay, 50 meters from the Mekong, I saw a bunch of muddy, dirty cards by the side of the road.

I collected the ones that weren’t completely unusable. A total of 18 cards. I went home and cleaned them.

Because there, on the banks of the Mekong, I decided that I would collect them until I could put together a complete deck.

A few days later, I made a spreadsheet in which I started to record which cards I collected, where and when. This spreadsheet had a constantly decreasing worksheet, on which I only saw the missing cards.

From then on, I was constantly paying attention to the dust of the road.

If I saw a card, I took out my chart. If I found a missing piece, I put a card or cards in an empty peanut bag I had made for this purpose. I cleaned it at home, noted it in the chart, and put it in its place in the deck.

I got two rubber rings and tied my ever-growing deck with them.

I often live in numbers

I had no idea when the deck would be ready.

That’s why the game was exciting.

It’s good to see how this search went in retrospect.

I had to bend down into the dust, mud, and grass a total of 18 times in 9 cities, two countries.

I often used my feet to dig the cards out of the ground. Sometimes I had to climb into the ditch to get them. I picked up a lot and threw away a lot.

Then I came across things that I hadn’t even thought about at first.

For example, a set of Bridge rules. A paper box, soaked and battered, but still usable. Then a paper frame that eventually contained the entire deck.

In Van Vieng, I had a heavy, wooden-framed double bed. The bed’s foot was as wide as my palm. So for two days I slept with the deck of cards wrapped in a tissue under the foot of the bed. Just to straighten out the crooked cards.

I didn’t have a rule that I only collected cards that were fresh and undamaged. In fact, I had a more used idea that the more life-giving a card was, the more interesting it was.

I later replaced one card with another, and the reason for this was that the back of the card I found the second time around was more interesting.

There are both paper and plastic-based cards in my deck. Some are completely intact, some are torn, some have holes. Some are faded and some I couldn’t clean completely.

I was worried about the Jokers. What are the chances of finding two of them? Because even though Jokers are not part of the poker deck, I decided that I wanted to collect two. In the end, it turned out to be four because I didn’t have the heart to leave the second pair.

This exciting game for me lasted 41 days.

The game ended 3 days ago, here in Vietnam.

At least the first round.

Because maybe I’ll repeat this game.

Storytelling cards

As I was going along, I had the idea that by the time I finished collecting, I would actually have created an interestingly written storybook.

After all, each of the cards tells me something.

The only card that I didn’t find but received, for example, will always tell about O. The Queen of Spades will always remind me of how much he liked it when I told this card story to the man. He asked me to show him the table of the missing cards. Then he went back to the kitchen and, after a while, brought the Queen of Spades. Not the eight cards that were still missing at the time, just this one.

The Queen of Spades will remind me that I once found smaller cards, about 2×3 cm. The next day I gave one of these to O, who pinned it to the memory column.

There is a card that whispers to me about the motorcycle trip and reminds me of the guys’ faces.

There will be one that shows the image of the deaf European kid digging in the dirt on the side of the road in 40 degrees, with a phone in one hand and a few torn cards in the other.

The last card found in the deck was the Three of Diamonds. He will tell you that when I found him, I had not had a single hit for a week. He was the only one missing. Since this was the only card left on the worksheet showing the missing cards, I knew I was looking for him. And then in Hanoi I saw a card on the street with a very beautiful back. It was the second card in Hanoi, I didn’t keep the first one because it was no longer missing from this deck. And as soon as I saw the back of the card, for some reason I knew exactly that this missing Three of Diamonds would be it.

It was him.

And the feeling that I knew exactly that it would be him made me very, very happy at that moment.

These pages are already telling stories.

I wonder what they will say in a year or two.

They tell stories in digital form

When I realized that this collection provided the framework for a story, I decided to digitize the collection and make a small book out of it.

You can check it out here, scroll through it, and see if one of the other pages speaks to you too.

What will happen to the deck?

My first thought was that when I finished collecting all the cards, I would make a video in an impressive place, preferably on a high place, where I would scatter the collection into the air.

After all, I don’t want to own anything, it would be appropriate to give back the freedom of the cards.

Later, I thought that I would rather put the deck up for auction one day. Maybe there will be someone who would listen to the story the cards tell. And I will give whatever money I get for it to an organization that works with children. Let the children benefit from my stupid little game.

Until the fate of the deck is decided, I will lovingly keep it among my few belongings.

In the meantime, I offer it to you with love!

Turn the pages with the same joy as I worked with it.

The post 266. | My Little Book of Tales first appeared on Digital Nomad Blog.

Then my trip took a different turn.

Now I’ve finally arrived.

I like what I’m experiencing here.

First steps in Hanoi

I arrived in Vietnam with many questions.

Finally, I managed to cross a border without any problems or surprises.

However, I didn’t have mobile internet. Arriving in a huge city like this is not the easiest experience. Without internet, I can’t find information or pay. Fortunately, all problems were solved the moment I arrived, because my phone found its way.

It’s undeniable that I’m gaining more and more experience in how to live this kind of digital nomad life.

I quickly booked a hotel room and called a taxi. Within a minute, the driver arrived, who didn’t speak any English, so I had nothing else to do during the 20-minute journey, but enjoy the view of the city and have a conversation with my younger brother.

The first accommodation

I got a very nice room on the eighth floor of a hotel. Based on the pictures, I expected that there would be a bathtub in the room, so I was happy in advance that after many months I would soak myself in a tub of warm water. The last time I saw a bathtub was last August. And I didn’t use it then either.

I wasn’t disappointed, even though there wasn’t a bathtub in the room. I simply accepted that I wouldn’t be taking a bath this time either.

There was, however, a very nice and clean shower, which I immediately used. In previous accommodation, I had become accustomed to having two packs of toothbrushes and toothpaste prepared everywhere. Usually, there was also soap waiting for me. Here, there was shower gel, but it smelled so luxurious that I seriously considered taking some with me on my further journey.

What was surprising was that there was also a comb and razor prepared in the bathroom. I haven’t used a comb for about forty years, but I tried it out now, just for fun. The razor – like the one I bought for myself in Thailand last time – is below par. I simply can’t get a three-blade razor, and the two-blade razor is just not good.

Another interesting thing about my room was a large portion of sunflower seeds, a bottle of dried ginger, and two energy drinks in the fridge. I put them out for myself and finished them all by morning.

The view from the eighth floor was beautiful even at night. And in the morning it was simply magnificent. There was also a TV in the room, which I turned on – exceptionally – probably because I hadn’t done so in a year. A movie I like was on HBO, so I watched a little bit with Vietnamese subtitles and in English.

I was surprised, but the inevitable gecko was waiting in the room. Surely the little one isn’t afraid of space, if he climbs so high.

What happened was that I took the refrigerator out from under the table so that I could work comfortably, and that’s when I met the little animal.

The only downside of the room was that – despite my preparation for the big job – the wifi didn’t work properly, even though each floor had a separate router.

So instead of working, I walked around the area a bit and sat on the street looking for another place to stay the next day.

My second room

After walking a few kilometers in the morning, I arrived at the accommodation that seemed good based on my research the night before. I did not book the accommodation.

I decided to check if there was an empty room, inspect it before booking and only rent it if everything was fine with it.

For some reason, a young receptionist greeted me very happily. She spoke good English, and it quickly turned out that there was a free room.

I said that I would like to check it out, and that it was important for me to have a table and chair so that I could work. And of course, good working wifi.

I already know that one of the easiest measures of the quality of the internet is YouTube. If it works well, there should be no big problems with anything else. So, after checking the room and finding everything in order, I watched a video. Fortunately, that was fine too.

There was only one question left. How much does the room cost? The girl was pretty upset because she asked for 450,000 VND (6,400 HUF, 17.3 USD) for it. I took my backpacks and was about to leave because I wanted to find a cheaper place to stay.

I told her I was sorry, but that was a lot for me. Actually, it was 300,000 VND (4,300 HUF, 11.5 USD), which I thought was a reasonable price.

She called someone and I got the room for that much. Yay!

There is a double bed in a nook next to the door. On the other side of the door is a huge wardrobe. Next to the wardrobe are two chairs and a small table. A kitchen counter (without a kitchen) and a tiny bathroom. Working air conditioning and a fan.

That’s more than enough.

The pros of the room are that it has the same deliciously scented shower gel as the first room. The cons are that there is no hot water. I guess not everything can be perfect.

I love this little room. I rented it for 4 nights, we’ll see how many it will be.

The streets of Hanoi

I was curious to see how big the city I live in now was.

The state has shrunk a bit. Hanoi has 9 million people, and 20 million people including the agglomerations. Its area is 3,350 square kilometers.

It is six times larger than Budapest and has more than twice as many people as the whole of Hungary.

I will not visit this city. I think I have accepted this by now. .

I have wandered around the surrounding streets for three days now. Based on my experiences so far, I have to say that I love this city.

There are a lot of sights around here. All kinds of shops, restaurants, lots of cafes. Huge skyscrapers, I can’t help but take pictures of them. I have already seen poorer neighborhoods. Roads full of street vendors.

There are an awful lot of motorbikes on the roads. It is almost impossible to get from one side of the road to the other. Neither drivers nor motorbike drivers pay attention to pedestrians. In such a big city, it is quite a strange experience that motorbikes wanting to get ahead faster come after me on the sidewalk and meet me.

So it is true that I have to be extra careful when I am a pedestrian. This is not unusual for me. But I have a feeling that this far surpasses my previous experiences.

There are also a lot of people in uniform here. You can see police officers constantly at major intersections. And for some reason they are not bothered at all if people cross in front of them or vehicles run red lights.

There are a lot of financial institutions in my area. There are guards sitting outside on the street in front of them everywhere. And in many places where I don’t even understand why they are there.

Maybe this also turns out to be true from what I have read beforehand. Maybe their presence is simply necessary to increase public safety.

Which I can’t say anything bad about, just like I couldn’t before. Apparently everyone is at peace with each other on the streets.

The food

The food here is also a great experience for me.

In the usual and much-loved way, lots of vegetables, rice and pasta.

I usually eat my fill for 50,000 VND (700 HUF, 1.9 USD). Since I eat a maximum of twice a day, eating here is quite economical. You can have a good coffee for half that.

For some reason, the restaurant owners are very kind to me.

They always show me what to pour on, spread on and generally how to eat the food. They tell me, then check if I did it “right” and tell me a second time if necessary.

Yesterday I squeezed a small citrus fruit on my salad and the restaurant owner came over and picked the seeds out of my salad with her spoon. Unbelievable!

The food I eat is very tasty. Today I had lunch again, staring at the Vietnamese menu with my eyes closed, because I couldn’t choose otherwise. They laughed at me, but I thought I had won their hearts. And I was lucky, because some incredibly delicious cabbage spring rolls were chosen for me by chance.

In the morning, I stopped by a café and asked the young English-speaking owner to choose a good coffee for me. This way, I managed to drink such a delicious drink that I had to go back to that place in the afternoon, because I had to taste it a second time. Of course, the young man recognized me and was very happy that I returned.

My dinner yesterday was also so delicious that I told the owner several times that it was very delicious, and I even wrote her a description at the end. And – in addition to picking out the seeds – she surprised me with some delicious fried topping for my dinner. She even asked if I would accept a plate of coconut soup as a gift. But I had so much dinner that I had to turn it down.

I’ll try it tomorrow.

I really enjoy these culinary experiences. I don’t even want to think about what else might be waiting for me here.

People on the street

What is perhaps most important to me is that most of the people here are incredibly nice and smiling. They greet every smile with a smile. They give it of their own accord, and for that I am extremely grateful.

This morning I wanted to buy one of the most expensive fruits. An apple. It costs about as much as a main course. But I didn’t have enough money. Interestingly, the saleswoman wasn’t angry that she had measured it and entered the price into the machine in vain.

When I go into a shop, people often ask me how they can help. These experiences never tire me.

I see a lot of people doing sports on the streets and in the parks. It’s a great experience to see them playing foot tennis, working out, running, walking, practicing tai chi, badminton, etc.

Young and old alike. Next to my hotel there is a large area equipped with street fitness machines. There is always a group working out there.

People sit in the cafes day and night, talking. They play.

This city is full of life.

The post 265. | Arrival in Vietnam first appeared on Digital Nomad Blog.

The departure to Vietnam was scheduled for that day.

I built my entire day around this.

Then the bus was canceled in the afternoon. That ended the previous post.

And that’s how it is.

My penultimate day in Laos

Actually, some things happened on my last two days that I still smile about.

On my penultimate day, I went to a restaurant near my accommodation in the morning and had already been there.

As always, I ordered rice with chicken. This is done by pointing to the name of the dish on the menu due to communication differences. On the left side in Lao, on the right side in English. There were no pictures on that menu.

So, I point to the name of the dish, smile and wait for my wonderful rice.

After a while, the chicken served with boiled vegetables arrives. There is no sign of rice.

I swim with the flow at all times, so I ate what was put in front of me with relish. I didn’t complain, because there was no reason. I’ll order better next time.

With this thought in mind, I went to another restaurant in the evening. The same menu was waiting there too. There are no pictures, just two columns of names of dishes. I show in both languages ​​that I would like to have rice with chicken. Smiles on both sides, then waiting.

My dinner will arrive soon. A huge bowl of soup, with lots of noodles. Rice is not even over the horizon.

The next morning I asked two AI models a little about the reason for the misunderstanding. I suspected that maybe the locals I ordered from couldn’t read.

The AI ​​said that wasn’t the reason. It’s more that the punctuation marks only contain a thought form of what the dish is meant to mean, or the English translation is wrong. But it’s also possible that they simply bring after the order what they think is appropriate for the evening.

By the morning of my last day, I had trained myself to be a trickster. I learned the phrase “khao pad kai,” which means fried chicken with rice.

It worked. I didn’t mess around with the menu, I casually ordered myself some rice. Which arrived as rice.

I’m glad I found this simple solution for my last day!

My penultimate last day in Laos

The title is a bit tricky, isn’t it?

Yes, because I didn’t plan to live in Laos at all on this Sunday.

Well, it’s clear now that the plan is mine.

The rest is not up to me.

I spent my last day in three places, after leaving the room I had occupied the night before in 2 minutes.

I spent the first half of the day in a cafe with my orange coffee.

Then, using my knowledge of Lao, I bought delicious rice.

Finally, I sat in a Cafe Amazon until the evening.

I love how experiences catch my breath in the most unexpected places. I didn’t expect any big surprises in a Western-style cafe.

I worked peacefully at the table by the front door, listened to my own music, and waited for the closing bell to head to my bus. Nothing special.

Then, around seven in the evening, a small family sat down on the other side of the big door. Grandparents, parents, a little girl sitting on one arm, and a princess.

The little princess had a birthday. A very cute little cake was given to the little girl with the crown, who was walking around in a very cute princess dress.

The little girl looked at me several times, curiously, and I waved to her and smiled at her. It was nothing, but I felt so good. I immediately thought of my two little princesses. How many such beautiful moments we had, and what happy moments there were always around such cute cakes.

But the moment flew by, I kept working. Until my mother put a slice of cake in front of me… I couldn’t spit or swallow. I felt so stupid, I couldn’t do anything but put my hand over my heart and say thank you a few times.

This little family took me back to the time of princesses. The trip was really good. I love time travel.

Waiting for the bus

After the journey to the past, a journey to the future awaited me.

I arrived at the Hotel at 8:30 PM, where I had to board the bus.

I waited for 10:30 PM, but the last coffee shop also closed at 8:30 PM, so my plan was to sit there in the parking lot for two hours. Those 120 minutes would pass quickly. Especially in good company. (Of course, I was alone.)

There were already two sleeping buses parked there, so around 9:30 PM I wrote to my contact. I sent him a picture of one of the buses and asked if it was my bus.

I was very happy because he immediately replied yes. Yay. Then 5 seconds later the next message came: no-no. Fuck it! Don’t be happy for long.

He wrote that he would ask the driver where he was and when they would pick me up, and let me know.

An hour later he wrote that the bus was a little late. Instead of 10:30 PM, it would arrive between 4 and 5 AM. A little. Late.

5.5 – 6 hours late. I don’t know in which world this delay is a little. Maybe here in Asia it really isn’t that much.

I lay down comfortably on the concrete, which was pleasantly warm even at 11 PM.

It’s interesting how quickly you get used to things that would otherwise be unthinkable when you have no choice.

I talked a lot on the phone, and I enjoyed how slowly time passed. I tried to sleep, but somehow I couldn’t sleep.

Instead, the rain came. Not gently, but in the usual way here, it started to pour very heavily. I had to take shelter under the half-roof of the hotel, where the rain only slightly peeked at me.

I would be lying if I said that those few hours passed quickly. I couldn’t sleep, and with the rain coming, I couldn’t sit either. I spent the last two hours standing, huddled against the wall.

But finally the bus arrived.

On the bus

Imaginations and expectations are always – and I’m starting to understand that – really always are misleading.

Based on the featured image in the post “Preparing for Vietnam“, I expected something like this for the inside of the bus:

Instead, I got this:

The whole bus was an overcrowded tin can. There were beds, one next to the other at waist height on the right side of the bus, and one on the other side. But they were all already taken.

The bottom of the bus was covered with mattresses. And there were people lying everywhere. Under the beds, in the corridor. Only the ceiling was empty.

I was a little afraid that I wouldn’t have a place to sleep.

That was half the story. I really didn’t have a bed. However, as soon as I got on the bus, I was immediately taken to the back of the vehicle. There was an unfortunate Asian man sleeping under one of the beds. The driver gently kicked him and told him to get out of there, because that was my seat.

Although I felt very sorry for the man, I took the seat assigned to me. I was already a little sleepy, so I made myself comfortable and immediately fell asleep.

I made myself comfortable.

I can tell you this in the next picture. The mattress – as you can see in the featured image of the post – was not very big. In fact, it was only slightly larger than the size of my laptop bag. This mattress was about 1 meter long and 40-45 cm wide.

I curled up on it, with my backpack in the crook of my legs.

I didn’t get a pillow or blanket either. I was prepared for this anyway, so I had my towel and my only sweater with me, which together could make a comfortable pillow.

I woke up first thing in the morning.

The first thing I saw was a face, 10 centimeters from mine. A guy was sleeping peacefully. The man who had been kicked aside in the night was using my leg as a pillow. The third, whose head sometimes touched mine, was putting his hand on my head in his sleep.

So, we were a bit crowded. This did not change during the day. I could never stretch my legs because there was always someone there. Once a man sat on my mattress, taking advantage of the space left by the curve of my stomach. I told him that he shouldn’t do that, just as I had to tell my head neighbor, who had been transferring his pillow to my side a few times, that he should.

I couldn’t sit up on my bed because the bed above my head would have been at the height of my neck.

So I spent the 15 hours on the bus curled up on my right side. If I wanted to turn to my left side, my body had so little support that at every turn I almost flew into people in the passenger compartment. I didn’t risk it.

If I had wanted to lie on my back, I would only be able to do it with my knees drawn up, so I didn’t force it either.

But, at least it turned out that I can spend 15 hours lying on my right side.

The bus stopped twice. Once for a meal, and once for a pee break.

I’ll forget, of course we stopped at the border too.

Fortunately – for the first time – the border crossing went smoothly. They fined me 100,000 LAK because my visa expired on Sunday and it was already Monday. But I expected that.

There was no corruption, I didn’t have to give the border guards any money. In return, they checked twice that as a Hungarian I really didn’t need a visa. It’s good that they also came to the conclusion that I didn’t. Because the girl in front of me was simply sent back to Laos, because as a citizen of her country she should have.

There was no sign of the promised wifi on the bus – nor of my bed. My mobile internet didn’t work, even though I had bought my eSIM card well in advance.

In retrospect, I think we must have been on roads where there was no internet. I can’t say for sure. Because when I said the bus was a tin can, I meant it literally.

From the floor where I spent my 15 hours, you couldn’t see out of the bus. But if I had, I wouldn’t have been able to, because the windows were cleverly covered with foil.

In summary, I think I can say that the trip was quite bleak.

When we stopped for lunch, I was a little confident that we did so because the bus ticket includes one meal.

I was wrong. It soon turned out that I could buy myself some food if I wanted.

I wouldn’t have lacked willpower, let alone money. I had never bought foreign currency in advance before, and I didn’t now either. So I just watched other people eat.

A guy came up to me and told me to eat. I told him I didn’t have any money. He left, but after half a minute he came back and gave me 40,000 VND. Dong is the name of the money here, and it’s just as worthless as KIP. That is, he pressed a 500 HUF, 2 USD worth of money into my hand.

I asked him – after I thanked him – why he gave it to me? I don’t know, that’s all he said and he disappeared. That way I could eat a nice chicken rice.

Then later on, the guy whose face I woke up with in the morning woke me up later in the evening because he and his friend were eating boiled eggs and he thought I would eat one too. He was right. I accepted it gratefully and we ate the delicious boiled eggs together.

Arrival in Hanoi

We finally arrived in Hanoi before eight o’clock in the evening.

I hadn’t even gotten off the bus (literally!) when three taxi drivers asked me if I needed a taxi.

Stop, good people! I don’t even know where the front of the cart is.

Towards the end of the trip, I was thinking about how I was going to solve the task before me without the internet.

I can’t find accommodation without the internet. I can’t even leave the station if I don’t have a map. I can’t even withdraw money because I need internet to add money to my Wise card.

My only chance was to find free wifi somewhere. Because I can’t even pay for a coffee until I have internet.

Luckily, the internet came to Hanoi. So I set off. Somewhere.

After a 2 km walk and two Google Maps misinformation, I found a working ATM. There, a man was playing Monopoly. He was withdrawing the maximum amount of money from the ATM one after another.

I patiently waited for the 15 minutes while he collected the approximately 30 cm thick bundle of money in his hand.

I also played millionaire: I withdrew 1,000,000 VND.

Afterwards I had a good coffee. I booked a hotel. I was able to call a Grab taxi.

And at around 10 pm I was able to throw off my dirty clothes on the eighth floor of a hotel.

Hanoi! Vietnam! I arrived.

The fourth country and approximately the thirtieth accommodation since I left Hungary.

And this is still only the first step of my journey.

I happily fell asleep. I dreamed of new adventures.

Even when awake…

The post 264. | A bus where only the ceiling was free first appeared on Digital Nomad Blog.

That was all I knew about the Plain of Jars before I set out.

One thing was certain, when I chose this city, I took into account that it had a much-hyped attraction.

The day came when I could go after the truth.

Back on two wheels

I rented a motorbike from my host in the morning.

He warned me that it would rain in the afternoon. If I got home before 3 o’clock, I would be safe. We were 1 hour off, but more on that later.

The day wasn’t all about the two-wheeled journey. I covered a total of 63 km, at a fairly slow pace, as the quality of the road really doesn’t allow for faster speeds.

I actually enjoyed the slower pace. I had time to look around, sometimes stopping on the side of the road to take photos.

Plain of Jars

I had to go west of Phonsavan, near Muang Khoun (ancient royal city), about 25 km. to reach one of the 17 plains, namely Site 2.

I arrived in a quiet little village, which was busy because all the schoolchildren were on their way home for lunch. Every time I see so many students with pioneer ties, smiling memories come rushing to my mind. I even wore a junior pioneer and pioneer tie.

Google Maps turned me down a small street to an even quieter abandoned temple courtyard.

Here I learned about the history of the Plain of Jars.

The Plain of Jars, a strange archaeological site in northern Laos, where thousands of huge stone jars lie scattered across the hills and valleys. These vessels can weigh several tons, and we still don’t know for sure who made them and for what purpose, although the most accepted theory is that they were related to funeral rituals. They are usually dated to between 500 BC and 500 AD (the Asian Iron Age). The area was badly damaged during the Laotian civil war, and to this day there are parts where unexploded bombs mean that you can only travel on designated paths.

Just as I was reading about the history of the place, an uncle came across the bridge. He explained something to me in Lao, but since I didn’t understand, our communication was simplified to a single English word: ticket.

So I bought a ticket. And from then on I was completely alone.

I had to cross a small bridge and then walk through a large agricultural area. The whole journey was like a straight-line adventure game: barbed wire fences guided my path all the way, there was no way I could get lost. It was a special experience to walk through such an area alone.

The plain I was heading for in this part was a hilltop. And what a hilltop!

I arrived in a beautiful grove. Its atmosphere immediately enchanted me!

The atmosphere of the place was made up of the beautiful sunshine, the light filtering through the leaves, the jars scattered everywhere on the ground covered with fallen leaves, the silence and the smell of the thousand-year-old past.

I spent enough time here to be able to observe the jars and my thoughts.

The term jar was quite misleading to me, by the way. Most of the vessels were at least a meter high, and there were several that were almost the same size as me. There were standing, lying, whole and broken jars.

I touched some of them or held my hands on them for a long time. I tried to feel the handprints of the creators from 2000-2500 years ago. I felt a bit like I had traveled back in time. I could easily imagine the environment from 2000 years ago.

The place is part of the World Heritage. Now it is also part of my memories.

Rain, museum and coffee

I didn’t really try to get home.

The slowdown!

One of my friends asked me on Monday how I managed to spend 7-8 hours on a crowded bus on Sunday? Maybe I’ve slowed down this life so much, he asked.

I think he sensed what’s been happening to me for a long time now. Yes, my life has become much slower-paced than it used to be. By this I don’t mean that I do less or that my life is less intense. On the contrary! Anyone who is a regular reader of my blog can see that my life cannot be called uneventful at all. Just as it wasn’t before.

But the pace is different. Nothing drives me, I’m not in a hurry and yes, if something else finds me that slows me down, or even speeds me up, I go with the flow.

I was thinking about this one morning exactly last week, while I was turning over the lines of the morning I had put together for myself. The mantra, repeated five times every morning, begins: With every breath I take, I am calmer and more balanced.

That morning, I began the sentences with a little more impatience. As if I wanted to get through this morning ritual so that we could move on. With this sentence, the thought came to me very quietly that there was no point in this if I didn’t give it its way.

After the momentary rush, I immediately picked up the pace. How could I be calmer and more balanced if I was in a hurry?

I slowed down.

So, I wasn’t in a hurry to get home. I even took a little detour to the village center. Just to look around. Then I stopped for lunch.

I love that in such a small village we arrange our meals in the simplest way. I said thank you, thank you. That’s the end of my Lao knowledge. I also said that I would like to eat something. The lady then walked over to the food counter, grabbed some noodles to show her that this was it, and I gave her a thumbs up to let her know that it would be good.

The usual delicious and rich soup arrived. Chicken, not tofu, full of vegetables. Plus the obligatory salad leaves served with the soup, now accompanied by mint leaves. I’ve been eating all the vegetables they give me for a long time. I never thought I would ever eat mint leaves like this. Very delicious. And it’s especially tasty with soup.

By the time it was time to pay, a young girl who knew English had already appeared. She showed me that the food was 40,000, while she said “60”. Choosing the middle ground, I gave her a fifty, of which she quickly gave me back ten. That’s how I knew that the real price was what she showed me, not what she said.

I like to eat among the locals. I can’t explain why, and I know that there’s no need to explain. It’s just nice to sit among them.

Finally, I started to head home. I saw that not only I was approaching the city, but also the storm clouds. And it was only two o’clock, not three, when we were waiting for the bad weather to arrive.

The rain started on the outskirts of the city, which started as a gentle drizzle, but in a minute it got so heavy that I ended up having to stand aside for a quarter of an hour.

Continuing my journey, I headed to the city’s museum, the Xieng Khouang Provincial Museum.

Since I bought two entrance tickets today, I’ll show them to you as an interesting fact. It’s worth noting how the name of the province (Xieng Khouang) is written once separately and once together.

The museum was completely dark and empty. After a little digging, I found the staff, who were working on some antiques in a back room.

Of course, they welcomed me and turned on the lights for me.

It was a good choice to visit this museum. Not only because I avoided the second wave of the storm for an hour. It was also worth going in because of what I saw there.

I think my review on Google Maps pretty much sums up how I felt during the hour I spent there:

I was the only visitor this afternoon. Thanks to the museum staff for turning on the lights for my pleasure. I learned a lot of interesting information about the history of this beautiful country. In addition to the many objects, there were many pictures and information blocks. Wars, history Fields of jars… If you want to be more informed and at the same time spend an hour pleasantly, this is the place for you.

From there I went to a cafe I had been to the day before. I also wrote a Google Maps review of that place, and I’ll show it here:

I was planning to go to another cafe, but it started raining. I am grateful for the rain, because I accidentally discovered this beautiful place. The decor and environment are modern and very tasteful. Books, board games and comfortable seating. I didn’t eat any food, even though it looked very tempting. I ordered an orange American coffee with ice and got the most delicious orgy of flavors I have had in days. This coffee was amazing. The staff is friendly and smiling. If you are in this area, don’t miss this cafe!

So, I definitely wanted to drink another one of these. (I’m just sitting down to finish this post on Saturday, when they’re making the third one.) This is a miracle coffee. There’s nothing complicated about it. Freshly squeezed orange juice, an American coffee, and ice. Yet it creates such a wonderful harmony of flavors that I’d be hard-pressed to find words to describe it.

When I came to this coffee shop, I wanted to drink my usual iced American coffee. But this coffee looked so good on the screen in the window that I wanted to give it a chance. I was afraid it would be some kind of sweet létty made with sugary syrup, and what a pleasant surprise I was!

If I could, I would gladly try this elsewhere.

Bun Bang Fai

After Thursday came Friday.

And I had no idea what awaited me.

My host told me to go to Wat Santiphap temple.

There would be something there.

I arrived at the temple around 12 o’clock. I saw the preparations for the ceremony in the temple courtyard, but I also knew that there would be a procession from there to a place.

So I waited. Quite a while. I sat on the steps in the shade of a building next to the temple and read.

Then I heard the sounds of departure. And I understood what my host had explained to me. The procession had left by car, but from what I suspected, it was not a foot procession.

Many people waved from the cars, perhaps even telling me to join them, but I wasn’t sure. I realized that I had missed this program, but as I turned out of the church, I looked around the corner to see where they were going. But they disappeared so quickly at the end of the long street that I felt there was no chance of ever finding them.

I turned back towards the city, hungry. I had missed this program.

Well, not at all! One last car turned out of the church and stopped next to me on the other side of the road. A monk asked me if I wanted to join them. There was no question. I jumped into the back of the van.

Within a few minutes we arrived at one end of the town. And yes: I would never have found this place.

I followed the crowd for a few hundred meters, somewhat bewildered. I had no guide, no one to tell me what the custom was here.

Fortunately, life put things right in a matter of moments. As I entered a courtyard through a small garden gate, a woman immediately pressed a can of beer into my hand. And immediately all the English knowledge that could be displayed in this small courtyard came out. The questions came, where I come from, how long have I been here? Then came the first request, can we take a selfie? With him. With him and his girlfriend? Then just with his girlfriend?

And from then on, this was the schedule next to the main program. Someone always came up to me. With a can of beer. Or with some Lao Lao whiskey. With a request for a joint photo, to stand in the middle of a group photo. With questions and kind words.

For some reason, everyone was very happy that I was also participating in this local celebration.

Because I am so lucky that I was able to participate in the famous Lao rocket festival, Bun Bang Fai!

And then it all just started.

This is a traditional rain-waiting festival, usually held around May. They build launchers out of bamboo and homemade “rockets” and compete to see who can fly higher/farther. The goal is to ask the heavens for rain to irrigate the rice fields. In the meantime, there is partying, music, booze, and food.

The whole thing was quite chaotic. I was caught in the middle of a frenzy and was speechless the whole time. The atmosphere carried me along.

I was a stranger.

But the locals were so kind that I didn’t feel like a stranger for a minute.

Falang!

I heard this word around me several times.

They pointed at me.

I knew they were talking about me.

This word means “Western (white) foreigner”.

Strangers came up to me and handed me a can of beer. I still have one in my bag today. Kids were running around, some of them were brave enough to ask me something in English. Even two young monks approached me to take a selfie. And for some reason it was exciting that they wanted to take a picture with me.

The music was blaring. They invited me to dance. I danced too. It was a slow dance, I imitated the movements of the locals. Or I just watched the circle as the local women danced in their beautiful clothes. They were happy to have me there. I was happy to be there. Lao Lao whiskey is very tasty, I had to say this several times, because offering it is also an expression of hospitality. Just as accepting it is my job. And I don’t think I had any option not to accept it.

Meanwhile, the rocket launches began. Huge bamboo stands had been set up in the rice field beforehand. The rockets, built on huge (sometimes 5-6 meter long) bamboo poles, were placed on top of this in a small launching chute. The rockets were then launched remotely, using a battery.

In addition to preserving tradition, this event is also a bit of a competition. That’s why quite huge rockets arrived, paraded in the colors of each family. Some of them immediately turned towards the ground and crashed close. But there was not one that flew very high and very far.

There were also some that didn’t work. The owner of this one was bathed in muddy water in a pit made for this purpose. At a certain point in the party, I was also invited to bathe in this puddle. I took the opportunity. It is true that this morning I washed my clothes and shoes in the shower for 45 minutes. But it was not a big price to pay to be there.

We ate fried and boiled chicken. Because of course I also got a piece of meat, a chicken leg. When a woman brought half a chicken and I bit into it just like the locals, everyone gave me their appreciation. They welcomed me, and I tried not to stand out from the crowd.

The head of one of the families knew English well, I talked to him a lot. He told me that I would be lucky in the near future to be here. I think so too. He thanked me – as many others do – for being here. Every time I replied that I felt grateful to be here.

Many rockets flew. And I had to drink a lot of beer. Of course, no one forced me, but I didn’t want to resist either. Many men came there and said that no matter how many beers I had, I would drink the can to the bottom. Then they would give me the next one.

I arrived here on an empty stomach, thinking that after the celebration I would eat in the city. Well, this empty stomach, the drinking of a few competitions, a Lao Lao or two and the drinking of an endless amount of beer had its consequences.

I got really drunk.

Luckily, based on the conversations, people knew where I lived. One of the cute ladies was my landlord’s mother, whom I had never seen at the hotel before, but today, for example, she came to me. With whiskey, of course. This morning she showed me our videos and pictures together.

So, they knew where I lived. That was my luck. If they hadn’t taken me home, I would probably have slept in the rice fields all night, holding a fired rocket.

It was about 5 or 6 in the afternoon when I lay down on my bed.

I really wanted to spend this afternoon working, not totally KO-ing passed out.

But I would be surprised if I regretted even a little that Friday afternoon and evening didn’t go as planned.

I really, really enjoyed every crazy moment of this celebration. I bathed in the love of the people and in the mud. We chewed the meat together. We marveled together and rewarded the rockets with a collective scream.

We connected and it was great.

It seems that every village gives you an unforgettable experience.

Phonsavan has given you a lot now.

I continue my journey to Vietnam with a grateful heart.

Postscript:

Just as I finished this post, I received a notification: my bus today was canceled due to the gas situation. We will leave tomorrow at the same time, from the same place. Maybe.

This way I will definitely have a day off from my Visa. Plus I have to find a new place to stay in the city today. The cafe and work will remain tomorrow.

Phonsavan and Laos didn’t want to let me go today for some reason. Vietnam can wait another day.

And that’s fine!

The post 263. | From silence to chaos – two days in Phonsavan first appeared on Digital Nomad Blog.

I didn’t have to prepare much for the next country now.

Maybe I should worry about this?

I don’t know. For some reason I don’t feel worried. This will be the fourth country in Asia that I will live in. The fourth is unknown.

For some reason, moving towards the unknown feels familiar.

Maybe I shouldn’t worry about this!

The visa issue

This step has never gone without a problem before. Maybe it will now.

As a Hungarian citizen, I don’t need to apply for a visa if I’m not going to be in Vietnam for more than 45 days.

I read this on our government website, but it seemed so unbelievable that I ran an AI check. This confirmed that I don’t need to apply for a visa.

Two members of the motorcycle team have been in Vietnam for a few weeks now, so I asked one of them if I should expect any surprises at the border.

This is what he said:

• you will need to prepare 50K dongs or kips, in the border we crossed they were a bit corrupt so they ask everyone 50k
• but actually u dont need nothing legally its free but you know how its working hahahahha
• i remember one guy he said to the guard no i will not pay i dont have money and the police told him; okay no money no stamp hahahahahah

So, without any special papers, armed with 50,000 LAK, I will set off on my journey.

What surprises can I expect after this?

The trip to Vietnam

For sure, contrary to my previous bold plan, I will not hitchhike. LOL.

I will buy a bus ticket tomorrow, preparing for a 22-24 hour journey. This is – as we have already seen – a completely natural time span for 700+ kilometers here.

In addition to giving up hitchhiking, the fact that if a direct bus takes 22+ hours plays a big role in this. Let’s stick with the predictable uncomfortable, rather than the unpredictable even more uncomfortable.

I don’t feel like giving up, but rather a little bit of standing on my own two feet. I have so many random adventures here, I don’t have to do them directly.

Update: So much has happened that it was Saturday by the time I got to the point of publishing this post. So I already have my ticket.

The bus leaves tonight at 10:30 PM and arrives tomorrow at 11:30 PM. According to plans. 25 hours. Sleeper bus. I have no experience with this, I’m curious.

Where am I going?

My first destination will be Hanoi. I hope to get there by Sunday at the latest.

I plan to have another post about Laos. So if all goes well, I will report back with fresh experiences about Vietnam early next week.

My plans currently include Da Nang and Ho Chi Minh City. And the sea, which I haven’t seen since the beginning of January.

What do others say?

Since the preparation took even less time now, I read a little more about the government website about the new country.

I thought it would be interesting to share some information. Especially since this information does not sound completely scientific to me.

Let’s see what others think and what I think.

We would like to draw the attention of those planning to travel to Vietnam to the fact that the typhoon season lasts from June 1st to the end of November every year. During this period, heavy rains, floods, and even wind gusts exceeding 100 km/h can occur at any time.

Typhoon.

I watched a few videos. I read a couple of things.

It’s a pretty unfriendly, often tragic natural phenomenon.

Still, I don’t feel like I shouldn’t go to Vietnam right now because of this. No matter how I look inside myself, I don’t feel any fear of typhoons. I’m sure that won’t change later.

Vietnam is considered a safe country in the Southeast Asian region, with a low probability of terrorist attacks. The intense presence of police on the roads is a serious deterrent, and local disagreements, thefts, and road accidents are typically resolved on the spot in a short time.

For some reason, the last few words of this paragraph caught my attention first. “Disagreements are resolved on the spot.” But who? The police, or the disputing parties. It really doesn’t matter.

It’s good to read that a strong police presence is a serious deterrent. I can believe it. I’ve already written that I saw more people in uniform here in Laos in one week than in the previous months combined.

And indeed! I also have a feeling that the presence of a uniform obliges me to behave differently. Not that I have any reason to behave differently, but the attention is really different when there is a policeman or soldier nearby.

Especially when he appears in a way I’ve never seen before in my life, like today. Approaching the red light, I noticed a uniformed man sitting on a broken motorbike waiting for the green signal. He had a helmet on his head and a Kalashnikov machine gun slung across his back. It was an imposing sight. It was as if the “stop!” sign was not just for traffic, but for everyone on the street.

I’ve walked past a uniformed man several times in recent weeks who didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at me, just held his machine gun in both hands. He didn’t ask, and I didn’t even think about it.

Public safety in Vietnam is generally good, but motorbike robberies and thefts against foreign nationals are more common in Hanoi and the larger cities popular with tourists (Ho Chi Minh City, Da Nang, Nha Trang and Hue). We advise travelers to keep their passports and other personal documents safe at the hotel. The same applies to high-value phones and other technical devices.

I have only heard of such a motorcycle robbery once before, and that was just last week. It happened to a foreigner in Bali, and their phone was taken from his motorcycle.

I find this warning a bit exaggerated based on my experiences so far. I have a kind of unpleasant feeling about it, which I usually get while watching commercials. There, the general feeling is that if I don’t have what the commercial is about, then I am not complete.

Here, I have the feeling that if my expensive watch or phone is stolen, there will be someone nearby who will text me saying, “I told you so!”

I don’t know how the person who wrote this sentence imagined everyday life in a foreign city in a foreign country, leaving my valuable phone in my room, while I walk down the street.

Road traffic, both in cities and outside populated areas, is chaotic by European standards. Foreigners are advised to be extra careful when driving and walking.

I think it’s chaotic in every way. I can’t believe that the people who live here don’t see how chaotic and random it is sometimes.

It’s happened to me more than once that a motorbike came towards me on the pavement. Where the driver doesn’t even have the slightest idea of ​​slowing down. Maybe even they don’t think of this as orderly. Today I was just about to pass a truck – which was taking up half the pavement with natural ease – when a little girl on a motorbike turned onto the pavement from behind the truck and almost hit me.

None of us were caught off guard, everyone went about their business as if nothing had happened.

I don’t think it’s only foreigners who need to be extra careful when driving here.

I don’t want to make a joke about it, but on the streets you are constantly in danger of your life, because anything(!) could happen, which I couldn’t even imagine in Europe.

In connection with the weaknesses of the road infrastructure, we draw attention to the fact that dangerous road sections are often not signaled in advance, there are many unpredictable intersections, and signs that help with safe driving are often missing.

This is unfortunately true. This is also due to the fact that traffic signs are often only a signal, even if they exist.

Just the other day I told someone that the zebra crossing is really only on the road because there was probably a lot of asphalt paint and it had to be used. I have almost been hit on a zebra crossing a few times. There was also a driver who pulled the steering wheel on me without braking, probably just because I was crossing the road. He didn’t mind that I was doing it on a zebra crossing.

In many cases, this is a vicious circle. If I wait for someone to let me cross at the zebra crossing, I never get across the road. If I cross it according to my rights, I can anger someone who will immediately take revenge.

And yes, what if there is no sign?

My favorite:

When participating in traffic on foot, by bicycle or by motorbike, we recommend maintaining constant orientation in all directions! For tourists, even crossing a busy road safely can be a challenge at first.

Well, that’s exactly what I was talking about, Nyuszó Muszó. More than once. Here in Asia, I’ve often had the experience that I simply can’t look at the other side of the street because I wasn’t born there.

I don’t think looking in all directions is an exaggeration either!

It’s not enough to look ahead, behind, right and left. For example, here, for some reason, they don’t always cover the holes in the sidewalk. A sewer roof disappears. So what? The sidewalk has collapsed in one place. No problem! And there can be many other obstacles on the roads and sidewalks that put you at risk of breaking your ankle or neck.

This is probably the reason I was thinking about just today. Probably not many people use the sidewalk because no one likes to walk. Almost everyone rides a motorbike everywhere.

Finally, some good news has come to light:

Mass infectious diseases are becoming less common in Vietnam.

Of course, reading the government website is not intended to make you happy for a long time:

The media occasionally reports on cholera or epidemic-like diarrheal diseases. The cholera bacteria can be spread through drinking water and contaminated food (mostly dog ​​meat, shrimp paste, raw herbs and vegetables), and is killed during cooking and baking. We should avoid eating cleaned, raw vegetables and fruits purchased from street vendors. We would like to draw your attention to the need to strictly adhere to hygiene rules!

I could already smell a strong propaganda here.

Dog meat!

How many people have come here in the past few weeks with this? I know from people who have been to Vietnam that eating dog meat is not really typical. If you don’t look for it, you won’t come across it. It’s not a good feeling to read something so close to this country that is so far from the truth!

I think that not eating raw vegetables that have been cleaned with water and bought afterwards is advice that is quite contrary to life here, and I have a hard time understanding it.

As is the increased adherence to strict hygiene rules. Damn it! I eat at the same table as the locals. From the same plates, with the same cutlery that everyone else uses. I can’t wash my hands in these brothels because there is no sink.

So should I pretend to wipe the table and cutlery with a damp cloth? Thank you, no! I would rather be a local with diarrhea than a local who is particularly careful about hygiene.

I feel bad reading these lines because I read outsiderism in them. Of course, I could be wrong!

The bird flu virus spreads especially during the winter, when colds are common. Avoid live animal markets, poultry farms and any contact with free-ranging or caged birds.

Well, I’ll keep that last one in mind the next time I’m on a bus with chickens. LOL.

Overall, I think it was a shame to read any of these warnings. Aside from the typhoon, there’s nothing new, but there are a few parts of the warnings aimed at Westerners that I don’t like.

What do I say?

Fortunately, my curiosity has not diminished in the slightest and I can head towards Vietnam.

I am waiting for the weekend to start getting to know this country that seems exciting.

I have no fear, for some reason I am thinking about this country with love.

Maybe because I think that I will get to know another country that is actually made beautiful by the people again.

Vietnam, I am not reading about you anymore. I am going to see you.

The post 262. | Preparing for Vietnam first appeared on Digital Nomad Blog.

Finally I arrived in Phonsavan. Not in one, but in two days.

BLT – Bacon Lettuce Tomato

Bacon, lettuce and tomato. Bread and mayonnaise. That’s all.

I was introduced to this culinary experience here and now. The BLT sandwich is a classic, simple yet very effective combination. Its name is derived from its three main ingredients. It has become iconic especially in the USA, but it is so simple and universal that it works practically anywhere.

I ate my first BLT sandwich in Laos, and – not surprisingly – an American made it for me.

It looked so good that when the question arose whether to take it on the road or eat it here, the choice was not difficult. The sandwich breathed its soul out, building mine with it. It was a great experience. Despite its simple ingredients, it was an orgy of flavors for me. The familiar but long-experienced salty taste of bacon, the green freshness of lettuce, the sourness of tomatoes with the all-spice of mayonnaise: it was the perfect breakfast.

He made me one for the trip too.

This sandwich – wherever I meet it next – will have its own story for me.

What else can come after this? A Hungarian in India makes me a Gundel pancake? Right now, the only thing that comes to mind is pancakes, because I can’t think of a food I don’t know yet.

I started hitchhiking

I’ll tell you up front that it wasn’t a successful hitchhiking day.

I walked 370 meters from my accommodation when an air-conditioned Lexus stopped next to me and a Chinese guy picked me up. He said he was only going 15 km on my route, and I told him that every km counts when you’re a hitchhiker.

I jumped in and we were off. We talked using Google Translate. But I learned the Chinese phrase “thank you” from him. “Thank you very much” was enough for the day.

He told me that his boss doesn’t like strangers in his car, so I got out of the car 100 meters before his workplace and we said goodbye.

After walking another few hundred meters, he picked me up again. As it turned out, he had to go a few kilometers further. I got out again before the next stop. LOL.

From there I walked another 1.3 km, and then my hitchhiking career ended.

A man picked me up, and I routinely asked him if he was Chinese. Next time I’ll start by asking if he was Lao, because he wasn’t Chinese.

He didn’t speak a word of English, but – while there was internet – we exchanged a few thoughts over the phone.

We stopped at a place where I saw him giving medicine to a sick man. I asked him if he was a doctor. Yes, and he was in the army. He showed me his uniform, which was in the car, but I didn’t notice it. Just like the red cross on his chest, which only appeared then.

Since I was wearing the T-shirt I had received when I donated blood, I also showed him the symbol on my chest. He immediately grabbed my hand and – I saw the gratitude in his eyes – showed me that he still knew a few words of English: Thank you!

I think this is the greatest recognition I’ve received recently. I didn’t want it, but it was nice. This man knew exactly what blood donation meant and it didn’t take any words for us to develop a common language.

I was thinking about the chances of what just happened. A Lao doctor picking up a European hitchhiker and they could think in the same language. I don’t think it’s worth betting on. I just kept the experience to myself. I love this strange game of chance.

The man was so helpful that we stood on the side of the road for 5 minutes in one place so he could understand where I was going. I don’t really understand why Google Translate and Google Maps were there, so I wrote down where I was going and showed it on the map. Even though I was going to Phonsavan, he would have taken me to Vang Vieng (where I had just come from) and Vientiane (where I lived before Vang Vieng).

Finally, he dropped me off where a small flatbed bus was waiting for passengers, and even told the driver where I was going, who took it for granted that I would go with him.

I thought I was going with the flow, so I finally talked myself into going with this car for a while. We could have left because of me, but the old man told me to sit down and wait.

I sat down and waited. I think quite patiently, but after an hour I asked when we were leaving. About half an hour later, the answer came.

So I ended up sitting in the middle of an unknown small village for an hour and a half, waiting for the bus to leave with me to an unknown destination. But at least I had the opportunity to realize that hitchhiking would be an impossible mission on the road I had to take, because there were hardly any cars on it.

Bus and boat

Everything passes, with this slogan the wait is over. The bus left.

There were already other passengers waiting for the departure. Among them was a woman who was transporting chickens in cages made of small bamboo leaves and cardboard boxes.

So in the company of chickens and locals, I arrived half an hour later at the Nam Ngum reservoir (or lake), which is a huge, 370 km² “inland sea” in Laos. Just for comparison, Lake Balaton has an area of ​​592 km².

I saw on the map that my (original) route would take me there, but I didn’t expect that I would have to get on a boat here. Or something that looked like a boat. There were two on the shore of the lake that carried several people, but there was no information written anywhere. So I asked the driver which one I should get on. Trusting that he was right, I got on the boat.

80% of the passenger compartment was occupied by motorbikes. The rest was a few places to sit. There was just one free seat, so I sat down and waited for the departure. Of course, people got on at the last minute, including women, so I gave up my seat and sat on the floor with my back against a motorbike.

With this, I gained the trust of the locals again. One immediately offered me a piece of cake, and another pressed an orange into my hand. In vain, the principle of expecting a good deed in return always works here!

After about an hour and a half of boating, we docked on the other side of the lake. It looked exactly like where we had started from, for a few moments I wasn’t even sure we had made any progress at all.

So at that moment I was on the shore of a lake, surrounded by Laotian people who probably didn’t speak a word of English. And for some reason, I didn’t have internet. So I can say that I arrived in absolute silence. Somewhere I didn’t know, some distance from where I was heading.

With the calmness of the underdog, I sat on the platform of a small bus in the last seat. Next to the chickens, because the woman had loaded the animals onto the boat and onto this car. Since this was the only car, I had no choice. Let’s go – I said to myself – and then we’ll see where we end up.

We drove for a long time, through all kinds of settlements. The internet didn’t work for some reason, until I realized that I had to restart my phone to get it working again. So after a while, at least I saw that I was on the right track. At least for a while, because at one point we deviated from the direction that was right for me.

But I didn’t want to argue with fate, so we kept going. In a small village, everyone got off the bus except for two women. One of them was the woman with the chickens, who stayed. LOL. I stayed because… Why not? I’m sure I have nothing to do where almost everyone else got off.

So I trudged along for a few more hours, but I actually enjoyed the trip. At one point along the way it started to rain, luckily the car had a sidewall, which the driver kindly lowered.

Ban Mouang Cha

We finally arrived in Ban Mouang Cha.

I made a timid attempt to ask the driver if he was going any further. It didn’t work. I asked him how to get to Phonsavan. Then tomorrow by bus. He asked if I had any accommodation. Of course I didn’t, because until a few minutes ago I didn’t even know that this town existed.

It was a little worrying that the driver said goodbye to me with a “Good Luck” shout.

I quickly found accommodation. A real hotel, with cheap room rates. So I spent at least one night in a “regular” hotel room.

I didn’t get to know anything about the city, because after taking my room I had dinner at a nearby restaurant, then went to bed.

The next morning I woke up early. So early that even the reception wasn’t working. I needed help because the ticketing app didn’t know this town, so I had no idea how I was going to get there.

It seemed like a sure thing, it wasn’t going to be a hitchhiker.

When the door opened, I was offered coffee. That was nice. Then, with the help of a translator, I asked the young guy what time the bus to Phonsavan was. At 9:38. I’m always amazed at the impossible times for a bus to leave here. Why not 9:30?

I wrote this post for a bit, then I set off, thinking that it wouldn’t hurt to be at the bus terminal before 9:00. I’d rather wait there than have trouble.

I got there at 8:56. I bought my ticket, got on the bus, and it left successfully at 9:00. I should add that it was the only bus that day. It’s a good thing I didn’t get here at 9:20. Yes, in Asia it’s good to get there much earlier than you should, otherwise you might not get a flight that day.

The bus had everything that would make a Westerner accustomed to comfort feel like a horror movie in an instant.

First of all, the seats were about 10 centimeters narrower than I’m used to. The guy sitting next to me took up about 10% of my narrow seat, simply because he was a wide kid. So I had 90% of my own space during the entire trip.

Then there was the seat next to me on the other side. There was a mother sitting there with her toddler on her lap. Who – unintentionally – kicked my leg or arm every now and then. When this mother got off, another one came in her place, also with a small child in her arms.

There was another child on the bus, who was howling like a jackal when I got on. Finally, taking advantage of every square inch of the already cramped bus, they put a plastic chair in front of my seat, someone was sitting on it too, and there was a cardboard box under it, so I couldn’t even stretch out my right leg.

As we set off, I thought that I didn’t have a problem with these conditions anyway. If I did, I should have thought that I would definitely have worse trips than this. For example, in India.

130 km. If I had any problems with the bus, I should have only thought that 130 km would pass by in a flash.

And so it did. I jostled around on this bus for a solid seven hours and we arrived in Phonsavan. If I consider that the trip from Vang Vieng would have taken 8 hours, then you can already see what a success story my 2-day hitchhiking adventure was.

The bus stopped once during the seven-hour trip for a pee break. It was so long that I almost didn’t finish watering the jungle plants and we moved on.

The kilometers wore off very slowly. Here in Asia, it’s completely normal for Google Maps to say 37 km, 1.5 hours.

We were on roads like this again… If I didn’t call them roads, I would be closer to the truth. Potholed bitumen, gravel, dirt with rocks. If there is 20 meters of bitumen, it’s only good for the car to slow down when driving up on it (so it doesn’t tear) and slow down when driving down on it (so it doesn’t tear).

Even if there was a section that could be called a good quality road, the car didn’t go more than approx. 20 km/h. The car was in such a state anyway that – to be honest – I can’t imagine how it could do this trip on a daily basis. Sometimes I thought we wouldn’t even be able to climb a hill.

In the end, we just arrived in Phonsavan.

Phonsavan

The arrival was wonderful!

At the bus terminal I checked how far the supposed city center was based on Google Maps. My estimate was 2-3 km.

So I set off on foot.

Let’s say I started my usual introduction to the city. I can almost hear the crowd roaring that this is not an introduction, but a form of asceticism per se, a form of self-torture that I have developed. There may be some truth to this, but I will consistently deny it. LOL.

I just wanted to walk until I found a nice restaurant near the city center, so that I could then decide on my accommodation there. I assumed that I would find one nearby.

Luckily, I arrived at a place that looked good, which soon turned out to not only look good, but also be. In Laos, when I order soup, it is brought out in a small bowl. So there is never a problem with the quantity. In addition, they also bring a portion of salad, which I have really grown to like to eat with the soup over the past few months.

My only problem is with tofu, next time I will have to tell you not to force it. I wrote once that I had no problem with tofu in Hungary. Here in Asia, however, I really don’t like it. Its color, texture and smell are like raw pork liver. I eat it, at least I always have, but now I have scooped it to the edge of the plate.

This is asceticism, which I will not undertake now either!

On the way to my accommodation

I finished the huge portion of soup, booked my accommodation 4 km away and was about to leave when the sky fell. Not gently. It started to rain very heavily.

So – yes, with all my belongings in my two backpacks – I didn’t want to take on this kind of self-torture now. I thought, I’ll call a tuktuk or a taxi.

I took my inDrive application, which I had already used once, entered where I was going and pressed the continue button.

I had never experienced anything like this before, but the application proceeded in such a way that I had to make an offer to unknown drivers, how much I wanted to pay for this ride. Then someone would take the trip.

I already know the prices here, I knew that 100,000 LAK was a good price for a 4 km trip, so I made my offer. Then I just watched as the one-minute countdown timer neatly sent itself to zero and no one showed up.

I hadn’t felt like ordering a taxi had been successful so far. I waited the one-minute time limit again, and then I became a little confused. Luckily, the app said that other people usually offered 130,000 for this trip. The unfortunate overpriced tourists. So I made a new offer of 150,000 LAK, because I really wanted to get to the hotel.

No one showed up for that either. Looking at the app, I had to realize that I was probably the only one in the area, or in the whole city, using this app. But drivers certainly weren’t, so InDrive was now a dead end.

I thought I’d flag down a tuk-tuk while standing under the restaurant’s half-roof. There were always so many of them, they always wanted to take me, so let’s see.

Within 15 minutes I saw that when I needed them, they really weren’t there. Or maybe karma had told me that after all the rejections I had given to the poor drivers, no one would help me now.

About 5 tuk-tuks passed in front of me on the road in the fifteen minutes, but no matter how much I waved to them, they didn’t even turn their heads towards me.

After fifteen minutes, the rain was only just beginning to fall, so I started walking. 4 km and I was there. After three minutes, it turned out that the rain was just playing a trick on me. The falling rain was a trap! It started to rain again, so no matter how much I tried to avoid it, I was soaked to the skin in a minute.

There was also 5 cm of water on the road and sidewalk, so along with getting soaked to the skin, I immediately had to wash my feet.

I found an ATM 600 meters from the restaurant. I also needed cash, so I stopped here. I had prepared my card in my pocket beforehand, hoping that I would just stop the driver to get some cash on the way while riding a tuktuk. I didn’t want to waste time taking out my wallet.

So I took out my card and was shocked to find that I couldn’t even insert it into the ATM. I was starting to feel a little like this wasn’t my day. Of course, I knew it was mine, but now it was literally not the sunny side of life.

Giving up the fight, I just waited for something to come along that I could wave down. After a few minutes, someone came along who just said he was going the other way and drove off.

Giving up is not my style, so after a while I continued on. In the rain. After a few hundred meters, I saw another ATM. Under cover. I went over there and got my bank card.

That is, I would have gotten it. But it turned out that I had lost it. So I was forced to go back to the previous ATM, suspecting and trusting that it was there. It was there. When I showed the tuktuk driver going the other way, taking out my phone, I pulled the bank card out of my pocket.

Luckily, it was there in the middle of a small puddle on the road. I lovingly hugged the bank card that I had already abandoned and had in Bali once and decided that I would never put it in my pocket again.

Continuing the ordeal, I went to the second ATM again. In which I was able to insert my card. And I immediately received the answer that my card had been temporarily suspended. I thought that the ATM does not like cards that have been bathed in a puddle.

In fact, I only wiped it on my t-shirt after I rescued it from the water. So this time I wiped it thoroughly with paper. The temporary ban was lifted, and I was finally able to withdraw money.

I mean, I would have, but there was no money in the ATM.

During the enjoyable minutes I spent hunting for cash in the rain, it started to get dark. And it was still raining so hard that I couldn’t walk. I stopped under a small tent and decided to sleep there if nothing came to take me.

I waited patiently.

Then suddenly two tuktuks stopped. On the other side of the road. Only 5-6 meters from me, but that was quite a distance.

Taking the risk, I went up to one and told him where I was going. This took about 20 seconds, during which time I was already soaked. The driver, sitting comfortably and dryly under the hood, listened to my wishes, and then showed me that the other driver would be my man.

I explained to him in the same amount of time where I was going to go to grief. So I was soaked to the bone. This driver was willing to take the trip. Yay. For the sake of formality, I asked how much the trip would cost, knowing that I would accept whatever he said.

It was a bit funny that he asked for 100,000 LAK.

He politely asked if he could turn around to get me and my stuff on the other side of the road. I gave him a thumbs up to show him that I appreciated the idea.

Finally, we set off!

Continuing his courtesy, the driver attempted to pull a small tarpaulin over the front wall of the open tuktuk, all while driving. I laughed and told him that it was OK as it is. Don’t bother with water protection, it’s completely irrelevant to me.

When we were leaving, I showed him in writing that there should be an ATM, but he didn’t understand. I think the word ATM was the key word in this.

On the way, I saw one and waved the driver down. 3 steps there and 3 back, so there wasn’t a molecule in my body that wasn’t wet on the outside as well.

But finally I arrived at the accommodation, which I was able to pay for.

I took my room, which was comfortable, quiet and had a table and chair, as I had requested. The table is a piece of furniture built into a cabinet, so I’m not sure if it was brought here for my own use or if it was already here. It doesn’t matter. It’s there and ready.

It’s true that it’s about 10 cm higher than a normal table. So I have to raise my arms up to my elbows. However, where there’s a need, there’s help! After 8+ months of sitting on uncomfortable chairs, the bone in my backside is constantly aching. So now I put one of my pillows on the chair. This made the chair a little softer and the height of the table was also good.

All’s well that ends well!

It wasn’t an easy journey to get here, but here I am.

And I started my life here the way it should be after a journey that was soaked to the skin.

I took a hot shower and was reborn.

Here I am in Phonsavan, after the rainy fiasco I’m curious to see what you’re really like!

The post 261. | Phonsavan first appeared on Digital Nomad Blog.