It reminded me of driving to school with half of the neighborhood in the back seat and Grace and me squashed in the front. Add some motorbikes on the roof, chickens in sacks rustling and moving about among us, half a market load of watermelons, vegetables, plastic bags of soups and sauces, massive sacks of rice, a 350 watt amplifier, children being passed down the isle to sit on strangers laps, wooden windows, roof tiles and sheets of corrugated metal along with our two rucksacks on the roof. Every inch of space was utilized. Unfortunately for Emmet, leg and foot space also.
Pakse station was a kind of market / farm / sleeping space / bus depot in one. We depart the bus station after a 1.5 hour wait to load the bus with goods and humans.
The journey came to a halt many times by the locals shouting out over the blaring music (louder than any late pub music in Ireland)... Stop stop for toilet; we all jump out for a roadside squat... Stop stop, many shout at roadside vegtable sellers who sell vegetables to them through the windows.
What an experience. Glad we did it, next time we will take the Farang bus...which is the exact same vehicle but seats are saved solely for the monster sized tourists who are used to private space.
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