I got on the bus at 6:30 pm, and off 24 hours later.

On the first 12-hour leg of the trip I was seated next to a 30-something Vietnamese man who had been living in the U.S. for the last 15 years. I had grown accustomed to my blatant relative wealth every time I pulled out my iPod or my digital camera, and it was odd to see this diminutive man next to me listening to his 80 gig and talking about how he loves to go shopping in the city. Once you're up to cruising speed, the road to American excess is a short one.

We had an interesting talk. Having an outsider's as well as an American's perspective, he could firmly say that America was, all things considered, a wonderful place to live; that Vietnam - although much improved in recent years - is still a very difficult place to live; that the government presents the tourists with its idealized vision of its cities and culture, while eroding from corruption inside.

Changing buses the next morning, bleary-eyed and sore, I observed the driver remove a stick of incense from his stash behind the wheel, light it, wave it around the front of the bus, and place the smoldering stick in the front grill of the vehicle. It was a simple and lovely ritual, and anything to keep us safe on those roads was ok by me! (I have since realized that I can't ride on the left side of the bus; fearing that the oncoming traffic will clip precisely my window precludes any hope of rest.)

The ride down to Sai Gon - the second 12-hour leg - made up in geography what it lacked in conversation. Having left the muggy central coast, the climate was now bone-dry, the South China Sea to my left and desert and cactus to my right. Upon arriving in greater Sai Gon the palm trees and humidity returned. How does relative humidity work? Where's Jeff Tooker when you need him?

Also during this part of the trip I noticed that, climatic conditions aside, much of the land was barren, and that there were large plots planted with precisely laid out rows upon rows of deciduous trees. The type and size of tree and the organization of their growth made me think that these had most certainly been planted in the last 30 years, likely as a means of re-foresting the area after Agent Orange had destroyed all the trees and plant life during the war.

In short, a bus ride jam-packed with heat, history, and hope that around the next turn would be the city. Speaking of which, these cities in SE Asia (few though they are) sprawl like none other I have seen. If you get up high somewhere downtown in Bangkok, Hanoi, or Saigon, and look around you, there is city as far as you can see. Arriving on the bus you drive through dirty suburban sprawl for over an hour before reaching anything like an actual city. It's pretty oppressive, and helps explain why everyone wears those surgical masks over their faces.