Sa Pa, So Good...

Fashioning what she is,

Fathoming what she was,

We deem we dream - 

And that dissolves the days

Through which existence strays

Homeless at home. 

-Emily Dickinson, "To the bright east she flies"

When I arrived in Hanoi last February, my first full day was hot and sunny and by the end of barely a mile's walk I was exhausted, soaked with sweat and my bones feeling like lead dragging me down, the humidity slowing everything down to my very heartbeat. I felt the weight of the heat and the sun and the water in the air and thought, this place does not know Winter. Even after a cool, rainy March I thought that.

People told me differently and I laughed at them, but I hadn't even really seen Vietnam's Summer yet. And after spending August and September carrying a backpack everywhere I went so I could bring along a change of shirt, deodorant, a bottle of water, sometimes even a towel, after so many arrivals at work at 7:30 AM, the sun barely risen, drenched from a 20-minute bike ride, I felt the slow shift. For one thing, I lost weight. Which helps with the heat but does make the cold a trickier beast. But for another, I felt my body temperature changing. I'll never be like the Vietnamese, not even my northerner compatriots who still insisted on keeping the AC at 28 degrees Celsius. But cranking it down to 16 no longer felt comfortable to me, and I started to feel tangible relief at exiting the artificial environment of work to rejoin the muggy swamp of the streets below. That humidity and heat and noise had started to feel like what was real, and the thought of winter, of cold and snow, started to feel a little bit like a dream I'd once had. Now I'm back in New York and glancing out the window, checking the weather, I can see it's going to be another cloudless, sharp, beautiful, freezing day, and my stomach clenches. So much for winter.

But Hanoi does have a real Winter, despite my scorn. It's only after living through the summer there that you can really appreciate it, can understand why 45 degrees Fahrenheit and raining feels like a brutality, is reason enough to cancel classes and any plans you made and curl up under your covers with your space heater nearby and order in food and refuse to leave the house until it stops. raining. sideways. So it was funny that when I found myself finally at a place with my work schedule where I could take a couple classes off, finally having scraped and bowed and served enough hours to my employers that I could afford to enjoy a little bit of the country I'd moved to, that I decided to go North, to the mountains, to Sa Pa. Ironic, maybe. But this was a place I'd been hearing about for months, since I arrived basically, and much as I would have enjoyed the luxury of visiting in late Spring, I knew by then I wouldn't have much time before returning home and that there were other places I wanted to see, even if just at a glimpse, before I left Vietnam for a long time.

So... to Sa Pa!

Dan and I started out on shaky ground, as we left the house late due to... someone... taking way too long to pack. No need to point fingers. Unless it's at the point which is perpetually slow. Anyway.We ended up taking a taxi then rushing across the last quarter mile of Old Quarter to make it to the hotel where we were supposed to pick up our bus. We got there just in time to be informed we missed our pickup but thankfully after the concierge made a phone call he told us we could walk over to where the company's office was. The bus was still there. In Vietnam taking the night bus is a pretty popular option for getting around and definitely one I would recommend, both because it's affordable and because (as long as you're short like me!) they've got soft, reclining seats that turn into little narrow beds, basically, and are pretty comfortable. 

Though I felt the bus arrive sometime around 4 AM the drivers were fairly considerate in that they let everyone doze until around 6 when they began shouting and herding everyone off and into the arms of the waiting trekking guides gathered around the bus's door. Many Hmong, Giay, and Dao women wake up long before sun rise in order to walk into Sa Pa town from neighboring mountain/valley villages in order to grab tourists off the bus and offer trekking guides/homestays. It's an interesting lifestyle, part gamble and part sure thing. It seems like a lot of Sa Pa town's economy revolves around tourism which makes for a strange place that is both filled with people wearing traditional dress, living their lives, and yet still feels a little bit like Disneyland in its artificiality.

Dan and I had planned to stay in a hostel the first night, then trek with a guide we connected to from a mutual friend who'd already been to Sa Pa, stay a night with a homestay out in the next village over, Lao Chai, then trek back the following day. So after getting some coffee, breakfast, and checking in we wandered out to a nearby village you could visit for a nominal fee, Cat Cat.

Pigs enjoying some fun in the sun!

The entrance to Cat Cat village, where you must pay for admission. You can see all the Hmong women who walked the 20 minutes or so downhill from Sa Pa town to Cat Cat with us, speaking to us the whole way. They were very friendly until we got to the village and then they insisted that we buy something from them as they had guided us to the village (no they hadn't). We didn't but this began a trend of the same kind of attitude, which I'm not going to harp on because I think it's really difficult to know how much of this kind of aggressive, faux-friendly salesmanship comes from learned habits due to years of tourists passing through and how much is actual need. I don't know these people's lives and as unpleasant as these interactions were at time I tried to stay upbeat and polite, friendly if possible, with each person who pulled this kind of you-owe-me-it's-the-right-thing-to-do attitude. Anyway these girls were very nice right up until they insisted we buy their (obviously Chinese factory-produced) stuff.

Textiles for days.

Always funny when Soviet tourist shit pops up in Vietnam, which it does from time to time.

Heading down into Lao Chai, accompanied by a young pig!

One of our first stops, a stone-working shop manned by the artist himself, Hieu. We saw this stuff everywhere and some shops even accredited it to him (although some did not, so it's very likely that there are more artists just creating the same stuff, possibly from some kind of template? It's strange that it all looks the same but might not be from the same artist.)

Making our way down into the valley. The way down was the easy part...

Pigs!

Very odd carved bamboo roots in the shapes of Buddha/old man heads.

Traditional Red Dao Barbie, as you do.

The doggies gather close in a knick-knack shop during lunchtime.

Traditional Hmong Textiles and homes.

It was funny when we walked up to this building, as though we had not just passed half a dozen mud wall houses. But this one was meant for display, I guess.

Silvery earring version of the nón lá, a weird souvenir choice considering a lot of the ethnic minority women we saw weren't wearing them. Still, they were everywhere.

Dan had some things to say about this... fertility puppet? Gag gift? Warrior statue/marionette? I'm really not sure.

Black Hmong dyed fabrics drying on the line.

Traditional Hmong style house.

Pumbaa!!

This is around the back of the house, more drying textiles. We decided not to go in since people actually live here and seemed to be eating lunch at the time.

Just a view.

Early on, I fell hard for the formalwear of the Flower Hmong people. It is just unbelievably ornate and beautiful, and although I can count on one hand the amount of events that would warrant me wearing something like these dresses, I really, really wanted to try one on. I didn't end up doing so, but I wanted to.

Local waterfalls/dam in the village. After stopping and appreciating the roar of the water for a bit Dan and I started climbing back up (up until then we had been making our way downhill through the village), which necessitated a coffee break.

Headin' out.

Cafe/art gallery on the way out, very cool stuff that incorporated a lot of the local groups' textiles and colors.  It also had a stunning view.

Back in SaPa, we were ready for some food and a beverage. I decided to try the local lager, Lao Cai, which I found to be pretty watery and flavorless (even by mild Vietnamese beer standards!).

Some more late afternoon and dusk exploration of the town.

A very Hanoi-looking street.

Big open public space in the center of town, with a church and the mountains in the background. There were two pretty intense games of volleyball going which made for pretty enjoyable people-watching.

Back at the hostel, enjoying some mulled wine to warm up. For some weird reason the first glass I had of this was great and then later after Dan woke up from his nap we had one together and it was sickeningly sweet. The struggle is real, I guess. I can say that the hostel's fajitas were delicious though.

The next day was a fairly early one, we grabbed some of the free breakfast and coffee available and then met up with our Hmong trekking guide, Sho, who was going to lead us for the next two days. Sho is a lovely person and a great guide and if you're ever going to do any trekking in Sapa hit me and I will get her information for you.

Water buffalo! This guy just kind of sprung up on us. One minute, following the tiny foot path around rice fields and then we turned the corner and hello! Giant, horned cow hangin' out.

Sho!

A woman we came across on our way. She was turning the local ferns and weeds into rope, it was awesome.

Stampede! Just kidding. Possibly the world's docilest family of pigs.

No words required, I think.

After a particularly challenging 15 minute climb we stopped to rest and have some water at this little shop, where the shop owner's kids/grandkids (hard to tell) were running around, playing with each other. I was pretty ready to pick up this little one and take him with me.

Sugar cane snack break! Somehow Sho procured this for us for free, I think possibly because she stopped and chopped/peeled it herself and helped the other girls selling it for a few minutes. This stuff is like, extremely delicious for the first 10 seconds until all the water from the plant is gone and then it almost instantaneously becomes a dry, pulpy, cardboard-flavored mass that you can either A) spend the rest of your life chewing or B) try to surreptitiously spit out somewhere when no one is looking.

Goats!

Family photo, complete with awkward pose and weird smiles.

Entering the little village where we stopped for lunch. I have rarely in my life been more excited for food than I was by the time we got here.

Dan and I barely talked until the food arrived (which was, mercifully, only about 10 minutes after we sat down) and then we were almost silent for another 10 minutes or so while we inhaled most of this. It was all delicious.

More Flower Hmong gear, beyond gorgeous. I very much coveted this skirt and blouse.

Grain processor. The water pours into the basin on the right side which causes the beam to shift, turning the left side where the pestle grinds down into the bowl filled with whatever.

This was in Sho's village! She was really proud of the workshop and stopped to give us a demonstration for a few of the textile processing machines they had there.

Vat full of dye for the fabric.

Weaver.

Machine which, as Dan is doing, some spins grinds the contents in the bowl.

Wares!

Local school we passed.

I love this picture of Sho, her baby Binh, and her mother-in-law. They were really sweet and Dan ended up playing this game with Binh where Dan handed him things and he threw them across the room. Kept them entertained for a solid half hour.

Sho's house and yard. She told us she wanted to save up enough money to fix up her house and make it into a homestay so that the people she guides on treks could come stay with her. I hope she does that one day! In the meanwhile, we walked on for another 20 minutes or so to the next village over, Ta Van, which is filled with mostly Giay (Zay) people, where we stayed for the night.

The blue shirt on the left is the trademark style for Giay women, and even Sho was wearing one like this as she said that as tourism increases and the groups in the valley are exposed to another they do share some of each others' styles.

Peaceful Ta Van, down by the river where Dan and I found a big rock to sit on and relax and a very nice man with a laundry basket full of beer he kept cold in the river, and a tupperware container full of complimentary french fries he was more than happy to give us.

Bamboo and pine tree growing side by side. Weird.

Our homestay!

The view from the back porch.

The view from the second story, which had dorm style mattresses on the floor (and individual mosquito nets). We had the whole thing to ourselves though.

The feast that our hostess Sen and her family prepared for us and a couple other guests who were sleeping in nearby houses. This was... so good. I ate long past the point of being full.

Breakfast the next morning, Sho made us crepes, served with fresh mango and bananas! Delicious, especially with a microscopic cup of strong Vietnamese coffee (as is the custom).

Saying goodbye to our lovely host (in red). Sen was all dressed up because she was heading into one of the bigger towns, Lao Cai, with the hope that the visa for her trip to France would be approved.

The second day was cloudier and I think we got a little bit of rain but nothing terrible. We trekked some more through some of the farms and then headed up through an incredible bamboo forest, towards a pretty famous waterfall in the area.

Bamboo ahead.

Farmland.

It's difficult to see but after we left the bamboo forest we stopped to rest for a minute by this farm that had big, sour orange-type fruit hanging from one of the tree. Sho went to ask the owner if she could buy some and ended up picking them off the tree. She gave one to Dan promising it was sweet and then we all had a good laugh at his resulting face after trying it.

Up on the rocks where the waterfall was. It's a little hard to see the majesty of it from this angle.

After we'd climbed back down, looking back at where we'd just been.

Pentecostal church!

Sho gave me a bracelet and a this head scarf, which she put on my in the Hmong style. I'm not sure it's my color but it was still really cool.

Back in Sapa, we headed to the Central Market where I wanted to take a look at the second floor. I'd heard there was a really good collection of old textiles and handmade stuff up there.

Indeed there was. But there were also scrafs...

...and the usual collection of Vietnamese touristy crap.

Dan stayed on another night but at that point I was exhausted and ready to zone out on the bus so I walked around to the front of the central market where the depot was and, after fruitlessly looking for tasty travel snacks (nothing was really singing to me, you know?), we parted ways. At the bus station I ended up waiting for a while, past when the ticket said we would depart, until finally they started separating us into what I could not help but notice were a tourist group and a Vietnamese group. Then we boarded and were on our way!

The view from the station bench.

The strange but efficient layout of the soft-seat buses to and from Sapa. As you can see, there are two aisles and three rows of individual seats that recline fully. You're provided with a fleecy blanket, and at the front of your seat is a cup-holder tray. Your legs go forward under this space and there's room in there to throw your bag (as long as it's small) so that it's safe while you sleep. Also, everyone must take their shoes off on the stairs as they board the bus. All in all, I thought it was a pretty good system and this trip was, while a bit shorter than I might have hoped for, a really great adventure that I'm glad I went on.