Christmas on the border
As you know, I am writing these chapters a few weeks late. So let me tell you where I spent my Christmas!
It was on the morning of December 24 that I left the super family of L'Heureux-Boucher. When I leave, we see a group of young monks going around the village to receive food donations. It is a common sight in Laos, where their dime is done by hand.
As for Vietnam, its entrance is about 65 km by road, but I have two walls of 1000 m to climb before reaching this twenty-fifth border from the start.
A Laotian desperate to see me leave his country.
Every morning, the Laotian monks pass by to be given food.
Last climb before the border. I will have won my country stamp!
The last climb is so long that I only get to the top a few minutes before dark. I see a bus that has just left Laos and is heading to Dien Bien Phu, the first city in Vietnam and distant about forty kilometers.
I go through customs and ask the driver of the bus how much it would cost me to board with them to the next town. It gives me a ridiculously high price, more than what the rest of the passengers paid for three times that distance. And he looks at me as though he thinks I have no other option anyway, since I'm on my bike and it's going to be pitch dark in a few minutes.
It's bad to know me.
I still decide that it is not safe to continue cycling at this time. The next 25 kilometers are a huge descent along a cliff, and in these mountains you can see no further than your nose.
So I ask the Laotian customs officers where I could pitch my tent.
But right there, anywhere, there is no problem!
To answer me the least stressed customs officer in history by pointing right next to the customs post.
As I have already left Laos, but not yet entered Vietnam which is still a few kilometers away, I am therefore spending this evening of December 24, 2016 legally in any country, but still very comfortable in my tent.
On the evening of December 24, a few meters past the border of Laos.
Good morning Vietnam
In the morning, my presence does not disturb more than the day before. They greet me while I fold my tent and hit the road. It's a morning like any other in this Buddhist region where Christmas is not a tradition.
A few kilometers further, my first vision of Vietnam is a large sign where it is written NO SMOKING. A customs officer shows his face behind, partly hidden behind the smoke of his cigarette ...!
Merry Christmas !
