The Not-So-Nice Night Bus

When we booked our overnight bus ticket from Hanoi to Da Nang, there was a small part of me that was hoping we’d be riding the Catbus from Miyazaki’s My Neighbor Totoro. A fun, easy ride, something comfortable for the twelve-hour journey ahead and maybe something a little magic.

The Catbus from My Neighbor Totoro, a gem of a film.

We did not ride the Catbus.

Moreover, I do not think the Catbus would ever even step a paw in the bus station we found ourselves at. When we arrived, it was already dark, a level of disorientation my mom and I did not need. We would have been confused enough in the daylight: the station was massive, nothing was in English, and any sort of helpful arrow-based signage was nonexistent. Suffice to say, we had absolutely no idea where to go. 

Intrepid adventurers as we are, though, we decided to push through. We entered the crowded main building, a multi-level affair devoid of any decor beyond rows of ticket booths lining the walls. Travelers surrounded by baggage covered the floor, huddling together in the dim light in a way that reminded me of old photographs I’ve seen of 1880s Ellis Island. As we waded through families sitting on cardboard boxes and suitcases, Mom and I scanned the booths for the name of our bus company. I’d only received a receipt from the booking website, not the e-tickets like promised, and we needed to find a way to ensure we wouldn’t be turned away at the bus’s door. Finally, at the very end of one room, we saw it. The man at the counter, thankfully, accepted the email on my phone as proof enough of purchase and handed us our tickets, but did not, unthankfully, speak any English. When we asked where to go, he pointed to a string of numbers and letters stamped on our tickets and gestured out the window. Mom and I turned to see...a parking lot. A huge parking lot, filled with buses. Filled with buses with, again, no signage. Nothing. Just endless rows of buses. Well, we had nowhere else to go, so we set out.

Eventually, we found what we thought was our bus, or at least where it was supposed to be. The bus in its spot was boarding, but it was the right company and when we showed our tickets to the men loading the current vehicle, they nodded and seemed to tell us to stay where we were. So we did. We sat in small chairs and waited as one, two, three buses loaded up and pulled away. Surely our bus would get here soon.

But nothing came to replace them, and it was starting to get dangerously close to our departure time. Something seemed wrong, but no one spoke any English. In fact, we seemed to be the only Westerners in the entire place. At about T-twenty minutes, Mom decided to take a quick walk to the last corner of the parking lot we hadn’t made it to yet. We turned a corner but found only a darkened section with only a couple of buses. It was as we went to leave, disheartened, when I saw it! The name of our company printed across one bus at the end of the row. There it was. The string of numbers and letters on our ticket - which we had by now figured out was the license plate - matched the bus. We had found it! And it was loading. We got on the bus and were guided to the back. Here, there were no spaces between the sleeper seats and we lay uncomfortably close to the travelers next to us. Plus, there was no bathroom, which was mildly concerning. But the beds themselves were fine, we knew there would be rest stops, and we lay back, ready to get to Da Nang. 

The drive itself was, in one word, harrowing. Traffic laws in Vietnam are...interesting. Aka nonexistent. Frequently, our driver would duck between trucks on narrow, cliff-side roads, blaring his horn and trying to squeeze a 44-bed bus through two feet of space. But Mom and I were exhausted and, thank goodness, managed to sleep through much of the ride (during which, thank goodness, we did not plummet over a cliff-face). At our first rest stop, we got out and instead of a bathroom, saw a row of Vietnamese men peeing into the bushes.

Um. 

This was not exactly going the way we’d expected.

At first, we resigned ourselves to a very uncomfortable ride to the next rest stop, but after a few minutes, I decided this was not going to work. I left the bus a second time and realized there was a small food spot a short walk away and I ventured out in search of a toilet. What I found was a literal hole in the ground. 

See? A glorified hole.

But I’m thanking my lucky stars I used it anyway because the next time we stopped was thirteen hours later, in Da Nang. When the bus finally pulled to a halt, Mom and I stumbled out, blinking into the early morning sunlight.

After quite the adventure, Mom and I had made it to our next destination. 

More on this beautiful place soon.

So, would I recommend a night bus to budget travelers looking to cover a long distance? I’m not sure. It was quite the local experience, that’s for sure. But I do know that for the next leg of our journey, Mom and I are taking the train.

In love and adventure,
E