Our second time in Laos was woefully short-lived as we aimed for China before the visa expired, and before Spring Festival brought all transport to a halt. In fact, just as we arrived in Vientiane bus station from a Bangkok train followed by a short bus over the border, our coach to Kunming was there waiting. Ellen cursed me up and down for my too-lucky arrangements and eventually I did concede to skip it and take the next one, allowing us to take a shower and a nap between countries.
When we did get on the coach I was grateful for the break, as the journey was a mammoth 40 hour epic spanning 2 nights. At least it was a sleeper coach like we came down on and we broke frequently enough that it was all quite bearable. The border was a breeze as ever and soon we were walking the streets of Kunming back to The Hump hostel, with that strange feeling that comes from being somewhere familiar that really shouldn't be. It felt in a way like coming home and the delightfully inefficient hospitality of the Hump was some consolation as we both struggled with the concept of no longer being in Laos. Ellen in particular was upset not to have had the chance to go back to Luang Prabang and say goodbye properly to some of our new friends there, but I guess its true what they say about there being no goodbyes on the road an one day we are bound to return.
So now we have made it to China before the visa expired, and are ready to take the silk roads home. Starting this journey from Thailand and Laos feels, albeit unorthodox, very appropriate actually as these are the modern-day centres of silk and textile excellence with a quality that surpasses all but the most expensive Beijing fabrics. And so I approach the hostel staff and ask them to book us on the first train to Chengdu, from which we can pick up the northern silk route on our way up to Xinjiang province. My request met with raucous laughter , as if the idea of a westerner, let alone a Chinese, getting train tickets now for Spring Festival (16th-18th Feb, but transport full at least a week either side) was unthinkably funny. I persisted, and after few frowns and phone calls the hostel lady said she may be able to get something for 18th but not for certain, so I asked them to make the arrangements. Unfortunately all lines were jammed from then on and the best advice she could give me was to go to the station and try in person. I thought I detected a twinkle in her eye...
Leaving Ellen there for what I though would be half an hour or so I hot-footed it down to the station only to be met with madness. Pure, enormous, seething chaos: the booking office, aircraft-hangar huge with its 23 very long deep counters, was totally full to overflowing and so the even more enormous plaza in front of the station had been cordoned off by small men with big guns, and it also was full of people being let through 10 at a time. There must have been hundreds of thousands, literally, of Chinese people there, and I was the only westerner I saw. After hours and hours I finally got almost to the front of a queue... when it decided to close for lunch. Aargh! Anyway a bit of a wait and it re-opened, and relying purely on my 2 Chinese words, 'hello' and 'thank you', a contrived air of relaxedness, and a winning smile I somehow came away with the last 2 sleeper tickets for 17th (take that, hostel!), which by even odder luck were for the the cheaper hard-sleeper class which usually sells out first. Hoorah for jamminess! They said it couldn't be done...
A few days relaxing in and around Kunming before we depart on an overnighter to our favourite hostel in China: Sim's Cozy Gusthouse. We stayed there before with Nic and it is particularly pretty and welcoming, and the perfect place from which to launch ourselves onto the silk roads proper.
244 days without a smoke, and counting...