I’ve returned from Sapa with so many incredible memories, that I have no idea where to begin. So instead, I sit in my favourite cafe and order a mushroom omlette and freshly squeezed mango juice. It makes me think of my first breakfast in Sapa, after a long, grueling overnight train journey. I order ‘bread with eggs’ and ‘pancake with banana’ not quite expecting the menu to be so literal. My first plate arrives with a crusty roll on one side and some scrambled egg on the other. The pancake was a similar story, no sauce, no extras. I quickly began to realise that the food here is very basic in a way that mirrors local life.
I took a minibus past the other tourists to the base of a mountain, where I was greeted by two young Hmong girls wearing dyed indigo clothes adorned with jewellery. Already their English was good as I told them about England and they told me how many brothers and sisters they had, while I following the guide to the meeting point. I was introduced to an American guy who I would do the tour with. For the next two hours we trekked up and down steep mountain paths alongside beautiful rice terraces. Unfortunately, like other treks I’ve done in dramatic mountain scenery, the guide walked too fast and if you raised your eyes for more than a moment you risked a twisted ankle or worse.
Along the way I met several local tribes women who were keen to sell hand woven goods, but also liked to talk and laugh. One particular lady, Su walked with me for a good half an hour, gripping my hand on near verticle slopes. I started wondering why I was doing this tour as it was exhausting, and I had to spend the whole time concerntrating rather than taking photos.
We stopped for lunch at a local cafe where I was ready for the egg and noodle soup that was served. The American guy barely touched his. I thought he must be starving after the mornings trek, but instead he paced up and down along the road side. A few minutes later our guide flagged down a motorbike to take him back to Sapa town. Apparently he had started to question whether he should be doing the trek as an American, and felt that people would resent him for events in the past. The guide told me that this wasn’t the case and that everyone was welcome. I could have understood it had he been a soldier in the war, but he wasn’t. He was just a young guy in his twenties.
The guide and I continued our trek, this time along a gravel road where I was finally able to walk at my own pace and take photos of the terraces. I have never seen such stunning landscapes anywhere, from the snowscapes in Iceland to the High Atlas Mountains in Morocco, there was something more magical about the glistening water which hung in the gently curved terraces, sparkling against the green. The whole mountainside and valley was covered by this huge man made sculpture. It’s something I’ve wanted to see for so long, so it was a pretty special experience and the only thing I can compare it to at home is the pattern of a ploughed field, when viewed on a hill side. In between the terraces would be houses and small villages.
The guide took me back to his home, which was a wooden framed house, finished beautifully in bamboo, from the walls to the upstairs floor. The view from the patio was amazing. The house looked out across a valley and mountains that stretched for miles. After the long trek I was hungry and waited until after dark when the family invited me to join them for dinner. I was a little apprehensive as I had read about various customs of ways not to offend your host, but the rice wine caught me out. I tried to start eating my soup before I had finished the vile tasting and incredibly strong local drink. Somehow I managed to keep swallowing it, and everyone smiled.
Dinner always begins with a soup, this one was a mixture of vegetables and tasted good. A communal bowl of rice followed, which we all took from as well as a plate of heavily charcoaled fish, omelette and green veg. I couln’t quite say that it was nice, but the experience of eating dinner and staying with local tribes people was the highlight.
I slept on a mattress, above the other living quarters, and covered myself with a mosquito net and thick blanket. The night was very cold. The following morning I enjoyed a plate of pancakes which I smothered in honey and lime juice, until I felt prepared the the trek. We visited a traditional poor family house, which two sisters and husband lived together in two small rooms. One had a baby, but the other’s had died and so the family was cooking buffalow meat on the fire to protect the baby’s spirit. It was very sad, and I couldn’t fully understand what was going on, but the two sisters were lovely and had a great sense of humour.
Afterwards we took a long walk over large bolders next to a river, until we came to a huge waterfall. There was a lot of very tall mountains and jungle nearby. We headed back to the guide’s house for a noodle soup and pork lunch before saying thank you to the family and waving goodbye. The trek back to a nearby village took about an hour in the midday sun and involved some steep uphill paths, which was exhausting with my pack. Relieved to make it to a small village we stopped for bottled water, before squeezing onto a motorbike, between the driver and guide for a few miles. To see three people on a bike here is really common, and the driving is slow and careful. Another hour later we completed the rest of the journey in a Russian jeep.
Having bought several bracelets and hand woven products during the trek, I avoided the shops which were full of the same thing, only more expensive, and made my way to the local market. I was looking for pieces of hand made fabric for Ferret, as she seems quite creative with unusual patterns. Women of all ages swarmed me, quickly latching onto what I was looking for. There was no agression, just desperation to make money. I barely spent a few dollars on scraps of fabric but the women were greatful. Again, there were lots of smiles during the process, and the interaction was fun. I think for the Lisa women, having a foreigner come to the market and buy from them, rather than the tourist shops, was a new experience too.
My train from Lao Cai back to Hanoi was much more comfortable than the previous journey. I shared with a couple from Hong Kong, and a local business man. We all exchanged travel stories before putting off the lights and getting rocked to sleep.
