Awhile back, I sat down to write about all our border crossings.  Almost without fail, each one had it’s own drama to deal with.  I never did get through writing them all, but I mined this one from that pile of first drafts.

We almost ran into serious trouble trying to get into South Africa.  It started at our embarkation point, Ezeiza, Buenos Aires’ international airport.

We were checking out bags to Cape Town, when the person behind the Malaysian Airlines counter asked us if he could see our visas.  No, we told him, we were planning to get them when we arrived at the South African immigrations.

He began to grill us for information.

Did we have return tickets?
No, we were planning to continue our travels through Africa.

How were we planning to leave the country? Did we have plane or bus tickets?
No, we didn’t know how long we’d be staying and figured it would be impossible to buy South African bus tickets from Argentina, anyway.

He sighed and said he wasn’t sure he could let us on the flight.  “South Africa is very strict with their entrance requirements,” he said. “Very strict.”

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It was just before 6am when the tuk tuk we’d arranged the night before arrived.  We’d been waiting in the lobby with our bags.  I tossed them in and asked him to take us to the bus station.

We didn’t expect Phonsavanh to be so cold in the morning.  It must have been close to freezing and we were wearing shorts and sandals.  We never went over 30kph, but the tuk tuk was open to the elements and our teeth were chattering when we arrived at the bus station on the outskirts of town.

We showed our tickets and shoved our bags underneath the bus.  Oksana climbed aboard to claim our seats while I looked over the snacks at the station kiosks.  I started up a conversation with the only other tourists in sight.  Derek and Paulien were from the Netherlands and had just traveled through all the same places we’d been, going all the way back to Phuket, in Thailand.  When I asked them if they were going to Vietnam, too, they looked relieved.  It always feels good when you get independent verification about the bus you’re about to get on.

Shortly we were underway, but our driver took us on a tour of Phonsavanh before pointing us in the direction of Vietnam.  By the time we’d arrived at the border, I’d read a few chapters of my dog-eared copy of Kitchen Confidential and watched a movie on my iPhone.

The Laotian side was nothing more than a concrete corridor with a row of windows along one side.  Unaware of the protocol, Derek, Paulien, Oksana and I neglected to add our passports to the stack from our bus, so we were the last to get our exit stamps.  Bringing up the rear, we hefted our bags and hiked across the border.

The immigration office on the Vietnamese side was a different beast altogether.  High-ceilinged and full of echoes, we gawked a bit when we entered.  Instead of the loops and swirls of Laotian, the signage was written in a Roman-derived alphabet. The plentiful and peculiar accent marks were the only clue that one should not pronounce them without first learning more about the language.

Beyond the tall glass doors, a long counter sat in the sunlight.  As we entered, an official behind the desk pointed to a waiting area with rows of airport-style plastic chairs.  I set my bags down in front of one, turned back, and raised my eyebrows.  Here? (more…)

You can save hundreds of dollars, flying from Miami to Ecuador, if you create an itinerary with two plane changes in Colombia.

Arlo’s Travel Tip #17: Don’t do that.

My mom dropped us off at the airport in Norfolk, Virginia on Wednesday afternoon (she drove off in our Jeep, promising to take care of it while she stays in North Carolina.)  Our flight down to Miami was on a commuter jet, but it was so short, I didn’t mind at all.

We stayed overnight at the Miami Courtyard Marriott, which had the most magnificently comfortable bed!  Unfortunately, we stayed up half the night repacking our backpacks (and taking pictures for insurance purposes.)  Oksana was freaking out.  We only got 3 hours of sleep and were back at Miami International by 5:30am.

It didn’t take long before something went wrong.  The counter jockey at LAN airlines wouldn’t check our bags all the way through to Quito.  I’ve never had a problem like that with international flights, but he insistently mumbled something about Colombian regulations.  I asked if we were going to have to clear customs and immigration just to recheck our bags.  Again, he mumbled, “Colombian regulations”.

First flight was great!  Breakfast provided and seat-back movies on demand (Oksana watched Killers, I played just enough of The Other Guys to see the Tuna-Lion exchange again before enjoying the Cloony/J. Lo masterpiece, Out of Sight.)  When the flight attendant came along, handing out Colombian immigration forms, he almost passed us by.  I asked if we might need them to retrieve our bags.

“Why didn’t you check your bags all the way to Quito?” he asked.

“Because the person at the LAN counter told us we couldn’t.”

He shook his head slowly as he tore off two immigration forms.  “This is bad,” he said.  “This is bad.”

Oksana continued to freak out.

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Part the Second: Getting to Cuba

Because it’s so difficult for an American company to do business with Cuba, it can be quite an ordeal to find a flight from the U.S. If you’ve got all your Treasury ducks in a row, though, it is possible.

Believe it or not, there are plenty of run-of-the-mill, passenger flights out of Miami. From what I’ve been able to gather, most of them are filled with Cuban-Americans visiting their families. They can only get a visa for 21 days total in a year, though, and flights around Christmas are usually full. If you’re thinking about going to Cuba when it’s all chilly and cold up north – what better time? – then you better plan ahead and buy your tickets in September.

Gulfstream Air, Tico Travel, and Marazul Charters are some likely candidates to get you started. We used Tico Travel on our first trip and while they got us there and back, we had some hitches that made the trip more worrisome that it needed to be (although they made right with everything in the end.) Gulfstream is a company owned by Continental Airlines and we used them on our second trip. If things go well, expect to pay roughly $350 round trip from Miami to Havana. If plans blow up in you face, you can still get there for $9014!

Let me explain.

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