Laos Kept Me Going…

There is a different kind of beauty in places that are often overlooked.

Laos was never at the top of my bucket list. In fact, if you ask most travelers about Southeast Asia, they’ll probably mention Thailand, Vietnam, or Bali first. But sometimes, the places that don’t demand your attention are the ones that quietly change you.

Laos did exactly that.

It kept me going.

Not because everything suddenly became easier, but because it reminded me that life continues to unfold even while you’re still waiting for your prayers to be answered.

The Longest Road I’ve Ever Taken

Crossing from Hanoi to Vientiane was probably one of the most challenging parts of my backpacking journey.

A 24-hour sleeper bus ride.

No luxury buses.
No smooth expressways.

Just winding mountain roads, endless curves, unfamiliar border crossings, and breathtaking views that made every uncomfortable moment worth enduring.

As our bus slowly left Hanoi, I watched the sun begin to set from my window. Somewhere between one country and another, I found myself whispering another prayer.

“Thank You, Lord.”

Thank You for allowing me to witness Your creation.

Thank You for reminding me that there is still so much beauty outside the disappointments I had been carrying.

The roads weren’t perfect. Most weren’t even fully paved. At times it felt like we were driving on the edge of mountains with nothing but valleys beneath us. Yet somehow, our drivers navigated every turn with incredible skill.

It was one of those journeys that makes you appreciate people whose work often goes unnoticed.

The Stranger Who Didn’t Feel Like One

One of the most unexpected gifts of the trip wasn’t a destination.

It was a person.

Somewhere along the journey, I met a fellow solo traveler from Canada.

She looked much younger than me, yet I found myself learning so much from her.

She was fearless when negotiating prices, calm whenever unexpected situations happened, and incredibly independent. Watching her navigate unfamiliar places reminded me that confidence isn’t something you’re born with.

It’s something you build every time you choose to keep going despite uncertainty.

Before we parted ways, she left me a note.

It wasn’t expensive.

It wasn’t grand.

But it became one of the most meaningful souvenirs I brought home.

Because those are the moments you never find in travel itineraries.

They’re simply given to you along the way.

Bring Cash. Trust Me.

If you’re planning to cross the Vietnam-Laos border by bus, here’s one advice I cannot emphasize enough:

Bring cash.

Lots of travelers, including us, made the mistake of relying on our cards.

The problem?

There were long stretches where there were no ATMs, and during immigration, we were required to pay a small border fee in cash.

Neither of us had enough.

Thankfully, our bus driver kindly lent us the money so we could continue the journey. We paid him back as soon as we arrived in Vientiane and withdrew cash.

That simple act of kindness stayed with me.

Throughout Vietnam and Laos, I experienced countless moments where people helped despite language barriers.

They didn’t speak much English.

Yet kindness, somehow, didn’t need translation.

A City That Asks You To Slow Down

After almost twenty-four hours on the road, the first thing I did in Vientiane wasn’t sightseeing.

It was withdrawing cash.

Then buying food.

After nearly an entire day without a proper meal, even the simplest food tasted like a feast.

From there, I headed to my hostel.

It was my very first hostel experience.

As someone naturally introverted, I was nervous.

Would it be noisy?

Would I feel awkward?

Surprisingly, it became another beautiful reminder that the travel community is filled with people simply trying to see the world in their own way.

Although I didn’t socialize much, I enjoyed quietly observing everyone.

Some were planning their next destination.

Some were sharing stories over dinner.

I mostly stayed in my bunk, wrote in my journal, then wandered the city whenever I felt like it.

For me, that was enough.

Vientiane Buys ME Time

Unlike many busy capital cities, Vientiane doesn’t rush you.

It invites you to walk.

Most of its attractions are within walking distance of one another, making it one of the easiest cities to explore on foot.

I wandered through Patuxai, often called Laos’ own Arc de Triomphe. Standing beneath it, I admired not only its architecture but also the peaceful cafés surrounding the monument where locals and travelers quietly spent their afternoons.

From there, I walked toward the riverside along the Mekong River.

As evening arrived, the night market slowly came alive.

Families walked together.

Street food vendors prepared dinner.

Travelers browsed handmade souvenirs.

The atmosphere wasn’t loud.

It was comforting.

I also found myself wandering past the Presidential Palace, visiting nearby temples, and spending time around the King Anouvong Statue, where locals gathered each afternoon as the sun slowly disappeared over the Mekong.

Just across from That Dam, I stumbled upon one of my favorite discoveries of the trip.

A small, hidden café tucked away from the crowds.

It wasn’t famous.

It wasn’t trending.

But it became my little sanctuary.

I stayed there for hours.

Writing.

Praying.

Reflecting.

Trying to understand why disappointment had become such a familiar visitor in my life.

Some questions remained unanswered.

But somehow, they felt lighter.

Coffee, Writing, and Quiet Healing

By the time I reached Laos, writing had become part of my journey.

Just like in Hanoi, I found myself searching for cafés more than tourist attractions.

Every café became an office.

A journal.

A place to process everything I had been carrying long before this backpacking trip even began.

I realized that perhaps healing doesn’t always happen in dramatic moments.

Sometimes it happens quietly.

Over coffee.

While watching strangers pass by.

While sitting alone.

While choosing to write instead of overthink.

Laos gave me that space.

It bought me time.

Time to breathe.

Time to think.

Time to believe that maybe life wasn’t finished with me yet.

Travel Tips for Exploring Laos

If you’re planning your own trip, here are a few things that made my experience much easier:

Cash is king. Many establishments still prefer cash, and some charge around 5% extra for card payments.
Withdraw enough money as soon as you arrive in Vientiane, especially if you’re coming overland.
Install the LOCA app before your trip. You can connect your bank cards and pay by QR code, just like locals do. It’s incredibly convenient if you don’t want to carry too much cash.
Explore Vientiane on foot. Most major attractions—including Patuxai, the Presidential Palace, temples, the Mekong riverside, King Anouvong Statue, and the night market—are all within walking distance.
Only take the 24-hour sleeper bus if you enjoy adventure. It’s long, physically exhausting, and unpredictable, but incredibly rewarding if you’re comfortable traveling like a local.

The End of One Journey, The Beginning of Another

Laos became the final chapter of my Southeast Asia backpacking adventure before I returned to reality.

Reality meant unanswered prayers.

Waiting.

Uncertainty.

And disappointments I still couldn’t fully understand.

Yet I wasn’t the same person who left home weeks earlier.

Somewhere between train stations, border crossings, cafés, temples, mountain roads, strangers, and quiet conversations with God, something inside me had changed.

I stopped measuring my life solely by the opportunities I had lost.

Instead, I began measuring it by the people who stayed.

The ones who prayed for me.

The ones who reminded me of who I was whenever I forgot.

The ones who believed in me when I struggled to believe in myself.

And above all, by a God who continued to provide—not always in the way I expected, but always in the way I needed.

Laos may be underrated to many travelers.

But for me, it will always be the country that gently whispered, “Keep going.”

Because sometimes, the greatest destination isn’t a place on the map.

It’s becoming someone who still chooses hope after everything that tried to take it away.