We reach the Dansavan village in Lao Bao. This is the Laos – Vietnam border. Our team has to take a major decision here. The three vehicles being right hand drive, cannot be driven in Vietnam under any circumstances. No amount of logic or persuasion yields any result. The border guards/officials are adamant. Team captain Rajat tries all his skills but to no avail. The solution comes from them. Only a select few can travel in two vehicles that they will provide with a driver and a guide. Our three vehicles can meet us after we cross Vietnam at M?cBài, the Vietnam Cambodia border.

An officer from the Indian embassy meets us. He briefs us about Vietnam and very casually mentions that the driver or the guide will definitely know Hindi and Bengali, though he would never let you know. This is a subtle hint to us to refrain from any discussions in either of these languages on the country we’ll be passing through. The GPS units too become an issue. But we somehow manage.

The team gets divided. We leave our cars and board their two blue micro buses. The welcome at the entry takes a little time. Tea is offered and we gratefully accept the steaming brew with some local snacks.

Having experienced cockroach fries in Myanmar, we are braced up to face other similar eventualities. Gastronomic needs are certainly important. But to get habituated overnight to face odds on end is indeed challenging. In Laos too we see enough to become a little cautious. In one road side ‘dhaba’ the menu card gives us another warning.

In the evenings, people throng the pavements, sit, eat and chat. One hears two kinds of noise here. The laughter of friends and families together and the roar of the mobikes. The density of two wheelers cannot be imagined. When they start from a traffic signal, hundreds at a time, it is a spectacle not to be missed. Adjacent to the pavements are shops that sell, in bottles, something that keeps them in high spirits. A closer look reveals the secret of their strength!

The drive is smooth. The visuals most charming. The people friendly. Young girls all in white cycle to school and they have the right of way. Smiling, waving at us, these young girls do not remember the resilience that their earlier generation portrayed to the world. They can only visit some scarred places to see what their seniors endured. Not just endured but also how they eventually forced the mighty US to crumble and flee before them. How this beautiful country could withstand the B-52s, the bull dozing and carpet bombing is a wonder. We stop by at the monument that represents the sacrifice of the people and visit the Cu Chi tunnels. How tunnels where you cannot even stand straight, ferry an army that crisscross across a nation and strike at the enemy is another wonder.

Standing on the bridge that connects the North to the South, one can only recollect the newspaper reports of the North and the South – the vibrancy that engulfed this country.

The Indian influence is perceptible. From the 2nd to the 15th century, there must have been a regular flow of travellers that have left a mark. We meet a group of ‘Cham’.

The ‘Cham’ wear a head gear, a dhoti and kurta. Meeting them, I go back in time and try to visualize how their ancestors lived - the adventure, their undaunted efforts to spread culture and business.

It is therefore not astonishing to see Cham temples almost every 10 kms. Some are in a dilapidated state. At others the deity is still worshipped daily with chanting and incense sticks. And the deity resembles our Durga with the ‘linga’ on the floor where milk and water are poured!

Da Nang’s sea beach is strikingly beautiful. Half way through our travel along the National Highway 1A is this city. This South China Sea coast city at the mouth of the Han River apparently got its name from a Cham word meaning the mouth of a great river.

Our recce sees and feels this unique country and we eagerly await the actual rally that would enable many to share our experience.