Days 8-11 - Sapa and area

Overnight train was a lovely old wooden affair, and we jogged along up to Lao Cai, arriving in mist and warm low cloud despite the elevation. A bus took us even higher to the mountain town of Sapa (elevation about 3,000 meters) where we were able to shower and eat before being met by our guide Chi, a member of the Black H'Mong people (there are 5 types of H'mong and many other groups in this area, all with distinctive clothing, village architecture and cultural customs. We were told to expect a trek of 5-8 kilometres, but 16 kilometres of up steep muddy trails and down sheer rocky tracks put us in a different mind set. Weather hot and sunny and air sharp and clear after Hanoi's humidity. Two other women joined us, Lam with her baby Nu and a young girl named Sasa. On the way they pointed out the plants they use to dye fabric (their textiles are all hand dyed and embroidered very elaborately, each design designating the family, the village and the people respectively), and those used for food, medicine and construction, as well as the animals of survival: water buffalo, goats, pigs, ducks, chickens, dogs, cats, roosters and many gorgeous butterflies - one almost black but with dark purple outlining its wings.

We refreshed ourselves by sucking on hunks of sugar cane before we eventually stopped for lunch in the village of Lao Chai. We were directed to a large hut on stilts over a fast moving river (there's water everywhere in Northern Vietnam - it is always in our ears rushing and gurgling and dripping along. How frustrating it must be for those who live with drought, like the Aussie travellers), along with many other travellers all directed by their respective local guides. Thankfully we are only the two of us and our three muses, as some groups are rather large. Chi brought us bread, cheese (don't get excited - it was la vache qui rit, the only dairy found in Vietnam I think), tomatoes, cucumbers (all peeled thankfully), and a plate of bacon which got envious looks from the French group beside us who got hard boiled eggs and oranges. It seems that whichever agency you book with sets the food, and maybe the guide has something to do with it too, as Martin remarked on every pig we saw along the way as potential dinner.

The second part of the day took us to the next village, Tavan, where we were set down at a house that was to be our home for the night. The beds are rock hard, covered with incredibly colourful and extremely heavy furry blankets and topped with a voluminous mosquito net. We were told to expect cold temperatures in the mountains over night, and it did certainly cool down to 5 or 6 degrees, bearable for us but absolute hell for the other two couples staying at the same place coming from balmy Australia and France. We played cards - the Vietnamese love to play games in general and cards in particular - drank big bottles of Tiger beer and wandered through the village, which seems to be typical for the area. Huts and a few larger and newer houses scattered along the tracks that wind along the mountainside, sharing space with rice fields, animal sheds and small cultivated gardens. And always at least one large school building that has entracne gates and shiny flags along its roof.

One side of the house is for sleeping, the middle room is for eating and relaxing together and for praying (many have little altars immediately opposite the main door so that the daylight hits the altar in the morning when the door is opened), and the other side is for cooking and washing up, with a fire in one corner and a square of cememt with a tap in the other. There is one table, several short stools and some plastic chairs for us foreigners, and the beds of course.

I think most travellers are expected to rest, buy the metalwork bracelets and embroidered bags from local ladies or drink beer or coffee in the makeshift cafe, but we wanted to hang out with the family, so we played cards, learning one game and teaching two others, to the amusement of one of the other guides, So, who was Miss Personality Plus. She and Martin hit it off and they teased each other mercilessly. So was not adverse to a bit of sly cheating at cards and Martin took delight in calling her on it which produced squeals of laughter and a quick barb back.

After awhile, three of us were invited to make spring rolls, (not sure why it was just us - was it because we were more fun or because it was thought we needed entertaining?). Squares of extremely fragile rice paper are rubbed with an onion, then a dollop of chopped cabbage, carrot, spring onion, mushroom, garlic and noodles is placed on one end, then the whole thing is carefully rolled up and fried. We watched the rest of our dinner being prepared and then sat down to an amazing array of fantastic food.

Then out came the rice wne. Every third world country seems to have its own homemade hooch and this lived up to the tradition. We all went walking under the moonlight from one house to another to "visit" (i.e., drink more hooch and play more card games). Other travellers seem to be left to their own devices but our gang of 6 was shuffled back and forth to neighbouring house parties.

Didn't sleep all that well as beds are right next to animal quarters, which housed one gorgeous rooster who thought dawn was imminent all night long. The room was made of woven bamboo walls, a cement floor, and a corrogated metal roof with lots to gaps throughout so it was a bit chilly. Ok, the hooch and beer didn't help either.

But the dawn dawned warm and sunny, and banana pancakes were placed in front of us, accompanied with honey, lime and sugar. Back on the road we trekked another 12 or so kilometres to two other viallages (Red Zoa people). After lunch we were put on motos (thankfully not the one loaded with live chickens) and driven back to Sapa. Despite a helmet that didn't fit, driving through mud, rocks, and a waterfall, passing trucks and vans with inches to spare, and having a driver distracted by a bug bite throughout the journey, it was so much fun!

Taken by our guides privately to the Green Bamboo nightclub that hosts ethnic night on Satrudays. Local people are not generally welcome (or else just not found) in most cafes and restaurants, but this place on this night produced local talent performing traditional music on traditional instruments (including a wailing song played on a leaf!) and dances, interrupted by bad Western pop music, black light, a glitter ball and the most uncomfortable wooden stools. We bought Chi and So mango juice to thank them for our trip, then retired for a proper sleep.Took a ride to Bac Ha village, which hosts a Sunday market that is a draw for local people (particularly the Flower H'mong whose outfits are particularly colourful). The ride was not the easiest as we followed old roads with suitcase sized potholes, and roads being (re?)constructed. At one point we had to stop and wait for trucks to remove a large amount of mud and stone that had fallen over the road in the night - we were on a particularly tight hairpin almost at the summit of a mountain so the view was spectacular if the prospect of being swept away by mud and rocks wasn't.

Loved the colour of the market, where horses and water buffalo, tobacco, clothing, housewares, meat fruit and vegetables were all bought and traded along with all sorts of the usual market paraphenalia found in markets the world over.

The ride back was much eaiser and we hung out in Lao Cai until out night train was ready. It's right on the Chinese border with a bridge division. We were told we could get a visa in an hour but then couldn't get back over the bridge. Our train was the other one, the not nearly as nice one, but we were so exhausted we actually slept (or at least rested) better than previously. Arrived back in Hanoi at 4:30 am, warm and humid, so walked it to the hostel where blearly staff were sweeping the floor and surreptiously watching Tom and Jerry cartoons that were being shown in the bar area. Another benefit of hostels - no curfew and no closing hours.