Good Morning Vietnam!
The scariest and most painful journey of my life was getting from Luang Prabang, Laos to Hanoi, Vietnam. Going 90 MPH over a dirt road with pot-holes in a mini-van with worn down suspensions in the middle of the night isn't exactly a vacation. Alas, we made it alive, so I can't complain.
In less than one hour of arriving into Vietnam, I'd witnessed an angry woman scream and throw a bicycle at another angry woman; a restaurant-owner boast about his virtual immunity from the corrupt policemen and his drug trafficking across the Vietnam-Laos border; and the bus driver push my friends and me to the back of the bus with the suitcases, a [probably broken] computer tower and a bag of bananas.
Vietnam and I were already getting on a bad start.
What was it about the Vietnamese that pissed me off? In my 3 weeks in that country, I found a lot of them (at least the ones who deal with tourists) to be liars. It's sad that I have to write them off like that, but I found that to be true more times than not. A driver would assure me that he really was taking em to a market, only to take me to his brother's shop. We'd pay for a kayaking trip only to get taken to a restaurant-boat. Some may say that maybe it's a misunderstanding, a language barrier. I say that they know perfect English when they're selling something to foreigners. They tell us what we want to hear, no matter how false the reality really is.