I knew when the tuktuk pulled up in front of my hotel in Luang Prabang that the journey to Phonsavan was going to be a shitshow (sorry for the colorful language, Mom, but it's the only word that's apropos). The tuktuk was packed to the gills, with two guys sitting next to the Lao man riding the motorbike, and one guy hanging off the back, and so much weight on the roof from all the luggage that the driver had to tell the guy on the back to switch sides at certain points to keep us from tipping over.

We made it to the minivan terminal and began the process of loading up the van. It became clear pretty quickly that they'd over booked it, and with no luggage rack on the roof, they had to use space in the back for all the luggage. Most of the passengers were European/Western but there was one young Lao couple in the front row, and the boy squeezed himself on the van floor with his back to the driver's seat to make room for a German girl in the row of three at the front. The German couple sitting next to me spoke in hushed, angry tones in which I determined they were displeased, especially the woman, who was Extremely Displeased. There's probably some German word for Thewomanwhoexperiencestheextremedispleasure, but I don't speak German.