I got up at 5 in the morning to catch a 5:30 bus to the train station. I wanted to get to the station as early as possible since I didn’t yet have my ticket. That turned out to be a problem as all the trains to Da Nang were sold out. The agent was able to sell me a ticket to a station about two thirds of the way to my destination, so I took it and figured I could piece together the rest of the trip. Here’s how it went.
The one ticket I was able to purchase was on the top bunk of a triple bunk in a sleeper car. What I hadn’t counted on is everyone still sleeping so I had to crawl up to my cramped space and lie down. I tried sitting up, but after a short time my back ached from hunching over, so I decided to try to enjoy the trip from a horizontal perspective. It was really disappointing as one of the highlights of a train trip for me is looking at the window which was, at that point, located two beds below me.
As we pulled into the station I had been ticketed to, I approached the conductor in an attempt to buy a ticket to Da Nang, but he reiterated that they were sold out for that portion, so I stepped off the train in a town I knew nothing about. Typically, I will download the local map for my destination to familiarize myself with where I am going in advance. I was able to ascertain that the station for buses to Da Nang was about 2 miles away so I left the train station and headed south.
Despite the numerous offers for a taxi at the train station, I knew I could get a better price on the street. It wasn’t long before a guy on a motorcycle pulled up and asked where I was going. I don’t know the word in Vietnamese for bus station, and he didn’t understand any of the English words I produced so I finally just pointed to the dot on my map, and we were on our way.
No sooner had we arrived at the station when a woman came to usher me onto a bus, actually grabbing me by the arm. I was on guard, as I am anytime someone bypasses the normal channels, like the ticket counter, but she led me to a bus that had Danang painted on the front of it. Mind you this bus was a local special, a small drab green vehicle typically reserved for short trips, but when she quoted me the price, I was pleased to hear I was also getting the local price.
The bus made its way out of town literally at a crawl. I wouldn’t have thought you could drive that slowly in Vietnam without being run off the road. In fact, we were overtaken by several bicycles as we lumbered along. Later I would realize driving slowly was an attempt to pick up any other passengers before we left the city.
When I originally boarded the bus, I had taken a normal seat about three quarters of the way back, but after looking over my shoulder, I noticed that the row in the very back of the bus was set up like a sleeper. You could sit up and stretch your legs out on the extra long seat. I decided reclining would be an excellent way to enjoy the scenery on a long bus ride, at least during the day.
My plans were soon thwarted as we continued to pick up passengers even after all the regular seat were full. Eventually the attendant came to the back row and told those of us sitting there to tuck our legs in to make room for someone to sit on the edge of the long bench we were seated upon. Another of my personal failures in public transportation. Once the back bench was filled with those of us crouched up and those with their backs against our legs, the attendant pulled out folding plastic chairs which she set along the aisle, and people began to fill those as well.
I should explain that buses in most parts of the world that I’ve traveled have as many as three people working on them. There is always the driver whose job is to drive the bus, a single responsibility he never expands upon, except to answer a phone call or smoke a cigarette. Then there is the fare collector. At intervals along the way, the fare collector will come along to take your money, and miraculously they manage to recall everyone they’ve collected from despite how crowded the bus is.
The third person can function in multiple roles. Sometimes he simply chats with the driver. The first time I saw this was in Mexico, and I just assumed it was bring your friend to work day every day. The third person can also function as the caller, leaning out the open door to broadcast the destination of the bus to people waiting alongside the road. Finally, he can act as attendant, ushering people on board and devising a way to cram as many people on the bus as possible. One has to believe there is a commission system set up for buses in these countries, and I wondered if the attendant on my current bus was ever going to admit that the bus was filled to capacity.
Despite being folded in thirds in the back of a densely packed bus, I did have a window seat and was able to enjoy the scenery as the bus wound along the cliffsides overlooking the south China sea. After about an hour we arrived in Danang. As we entered, I noticed several busses with Danang to Hoi An, my next destination, painted on the front of them.
I walked over to see when the bus left, and the female attendant grabbed my arm and said, “right now”. I attempted to ask when the next one left, through a succession of hand motions, pointing to my arm where a wristwatch is normally worn and moving my hand forward in a chopping motion. This pantomime was completely lost on her, so I put all my fingers together and moved them to my mouth and said “eat”, as I hadn’t eaten since the train station that morning. She pointed a direction and said “go go”, until I began to depart, when she grabbed my arm again and said, “you get on the bus now”. I think this confirms my assumption that fares are commission based, and she didn’t want to risk losing me to the next bus.
We rolled out of the Danang bus station, and I took note of the airport as we passed by since I would be returning there in a few days for my flight to Thailand. After an hour of doing the milk run, the slow route where you pick up and drop off as many times as possible, we arrived in a rainy Hoi An.
Before the bus came to a stop, the doors were swamped by taxi drivers ready to take us to our hotels. As usual, I walked past them and headed down the street knowing my hotel was not more than a 30 minute walk. Immediately, I was followed by a guy on a motorcycle asking if I wanted a ride. It’s impossible to tell whether there are official transportation services or just guys riding around on motorbikes trying to pick up an extra dollar. Since one dollar was the fare he quoted me, I accepted and was whisked along the road to my hotel, having completed my journey using no fewer than six modes of transportation and proving that it is always possible to piece together a trip if you’re flexible and keep an open mind.