Rice paddies of Sapa
Sapa is in the Northwest of Vietnam and is famous for it’s mountainous terrain and ethnic hill tribes. Jamie and I are booked on a 3 night, 2 day Sapa tour. We are the only ones booked on this day so we essentially get a private tour, lead by our guide Tu.
Before we head to the train station with Tu to board our overnight sleepers to Lao Cai city, we unexpectedly meet Tu’s wife, Name. Yes Name is her name. She admits “I confuse a lot of people” when we ask her about her name. Name is Thai and has only recently moved to Vietnam to be with Tu. I’m enchanted by the story of how they met — Name was a tour customer about 5 years ago and Tu was just starting out as a guide, on one of his very first tours. He was still “fresh” he says. They’ve both just returned from a short holiday by the beach and Name is returning to Sapa, where they live. She works at one of the hotels in Sapa town. They communicate in mainly English, with some Thai and Vietnamese thrown in. Her Vietnamese is better than his Thai, he admits.
Nowadays, Tu is very experienced. Recently, a Lonely Planet guide hired him/Vega Travel to take him through parts of the region. I always did wonder how the LP writers can get some much local knowledge, etc. without speaking the language. It makes sense that they would hire locals to assist them.
I’ve never taken a sleeper train before — well perhaps when I was really little, but not in recent memory. It’s comfortable but at night, the extremely loud clanging of the train combined with the severe shaking of the carriages make sleeping difficult. I’m kicking myself for not bringing my earplugs with me as part of my smaller daypack for Sapa.
Arrival in Lao Cai city early in the morning — much cooler and less humid — what a nice change! Lao Cai is right next to the Chinese border, near the Chinese province of Yunnan. We board a van filled with other tourists for Sapa. The drive from Lao Cai to Sapa is beautiful. We climb up the mountain, along a windy road with views of terraced fields covered in mist. The scenery is occasionally complemented with hill tribe people walking along the side of the road. They wear traditional ethnic clothing and carry bamboo baskets on their backs. It feels like a magical place, I’m already entranced.
Sapa town is built on a mountain and feels like a ski village. Many of the buildings have an alpine ski lodge look to them and the views over the valley are beautiful. Instead of boarders and skiers, the town is filled with tourists and ethnic H’mong women, trying to sell to the tourists. I’m surprised by how aggressive some of them are. I get stuck in a conversation with a girl who claims to be 18.
“Where you from?” “You buy something from me?” she asks.
“No not right now, maybe later”, I say.
“Okay, you promise you buy something from me later”, she sticks out her pinky finger and wants me to make a promise.
Shit. I don’t want to promise. “Maybe, later”, I reply.
“You buy something from me now. Maybe later you go away”, she insists.
And round and round we go. Finally Jamie pushes me past her to put an end to the conversation. It’s so hard to say no. The women are beautiful, with bright eyes and tanned faces. I’m saddened to see how tourism has changed their way of life. Instead of working on the farms, they’ve all learned a few basic phrases to sell their wares to tourists. Later I read that many of the young girls are kept out of school to do this. But my presence in Sapa alone is further fueling this behaviour.
After we freshen up at a hotel, Tu starts guiding us on our trek. We are trekking into the valley and will be staying overnight at a homestay with an ethnic minority family. The main tribes in this region are the Black H’mong, the Dzay, and the Red Dzai people.
As soon as we veer off the main road, we are met with very muddy trails. The mud is red, clay-like, and sticks to our shoes. Jamie and I are both poorly prepared, wearing our running shoes with poor grip, we are soon slipping and sliding around on the muddy trails. Even a group of older French/Belgium tourists pass us. I watch in amazement as the little kids from the villages run past us, expertly weaving their way through the mud and rocks wearing only plastic slippers.
The scenery surrounding us is amazing. Lush, vibrant green terraced fields. Corn, rice, water buffaloes, children, bamboo houses, streams flowing into the river, all surround by the mountains of the Fansipan range. The peak of Fansipan is about 3000 metres above sea level and remains covered in mist for most of our hike.
Along the way, we are followed by H’mong people. Two of the little girls silently follow us and even help Jamie and I through some of the really muddy parts. The children are so well behaved. Little ones carrying baby siblings on their backs. Children who look to be 7 or 8 already helping in the fields. They run about freely in the mud, this is their playground.
We break for lunch at a village restaurant and then continue on. The walk after lunch is less muddy. In total we hike 15 kms and end up at the home stay. This family of 4 has a nice house built right by the river. The first thing we do is scrub our shoes in the river to wash away all the mud. The two boys, 3 and 8, are adorable. The three year old in particular is funny, running around the house, catching moths and slowly pulling their wings off piece by piece. Later in the evening, when Jamie pulls out his ipod shuffler to play some Black Eyed Peas, the little boy quickly catches on to “pump it” and mutters these words as he moves is arms and bounces around the house. I’m not so sure he’s going to grow up wanting to live and work in this little village forever.
