Day 19
Half of today’s adventure was getting through immigration. Riding up to the border where vehicles pass, we were told it’s only for motorized vehicles, and that we would have to turn back and ascend a story and a half staircase packed with people carrying bundles of goods. Although I think we make quite a beautiful pair of engines, the guard at the border apparently did not think so.
Cher assured the guard that it was not possible for us to fold our trikes without unloading our panniers, and going by the stairs was out of question because of the heavy weight. “I will see what I can do.” was the guard’s reply after Cher negotiated with him. Soon 5 guards arrived, one of them exclaiming: “They’re not handicapped!” seeing both of us out of our seats. Apparently, the guard assumed that our reluctance in taking the stairs was caused by our “disability”. Nonetheless they assisted us in squeezing our trikes sideways, through a narrow gate marked “staff only”, with our panniers still attached. Passing through the gate we entered a pedestrian hallway. Women and men alike battering us with their enormous packages shoved to the front of the line, until I pushed my trike in their path and marked our territory.
We passed our document inspection and were forced to remove our bags and pass them through an x-ray machine. Knives, a bottle of compressed degreaser, white gas in fuel bottles, lighters, and a variety of foreign groceries in our bags didn’t even raise an eyebrow. As a matter of fact, they were too busy at checking out our strange transportation devices to notice what had passed on their screen. We reassembled and moved on to the Vietnamese side of immigration and passed through quickly. Not wanting to remove our panniers, we ignored the x-ray machine and rolled past. A guard stopped us, only to check our passports, and after giving Cher’s bag a light pat on the top, he motioned us to get out. We had officially made it to Vietnam!
Besides the usual whistling, barking, hellos, and hi’s that we got on both sides of the border, obvious differences became apparent between the Chinese and Vietnamese. Comparatively the Chinese are introverted conservatives and the Vietnamese gregarious revelers. Beer is sold at every 2 shops and music is blasting on the street corners. And of course, there are pho shops everywhere. Our no touch rule didn’t last ten seconds. Stopping for money, just as I left my seat someone slid in behind me. I bodily lifted him out of my seat, which far from insulting him only added to his amusement. Taking this as a cue when confronted by drivers slowing and yelling, I gave them my loudest American hammy hellllooo! and they continued on. More than anything it seems that a reaction is all that anyone wants and once satisfied they move on.
Needing Vietnamese Dong, we located an ATM but I was only able to take out 200,000 Dong, which equals about 10 US Dollars. We tried another ATM but once again I was limited to 500,000 Dong. Cher tried to get the rest of our RMB exchanged at a bank, and was directed by the bank teller to a street corner. There under an umbrella a lady ran an RMB to VND exchange business. Cher after some bargaining got an exceptionally competitive exchange rate, leaving us to wonder if we got scammed. But after counting the millions of Dongs we now possess, everything seemed to be fine. Indeed it was and we rolled into the countryside. Everything that we saw in southern China could not compare to the beauty of the countryside we now witnessed. On some of the best roads we’ve seen we pedaled off towards our next destination with a our wallets filled with Dong and bellies filled with pho, refreshed with new interest in the adventure the lay ahead.