Sapa: Mountain Peaks, Amazing Women, Fog and Rain

I heard the rain and thunder during the night and remember thinking, as I fell back to sleep, that maybe the storm would pass through the mountains and clear with the rising sun in the morning.

At daybreak it was obviously NOT to be. The hotel was shrouded in the grayness of low hanging storm clouds. The discussion at breakfast was “what to do?” It was telling that Penny, who never needs protection from the elements, had acquired an umbrella from the hotel staff.

Our planned destination was Cat Cat, a village about 2 miles to the south. The distance wasn’t the problem; the terrain was. It was a very steep and rocky trek. Add the rain and mud and it would be treacherous. Without a view, it was a no-brainer!






Phung decided that ponchos were in order if we were going to venture outside.


We headed out and for a brief moment, the clouds settled below the mountain peak – it was very cool.



We decided to go to the market and see the handicrafts of Red Dao.

The daytime market doesn’t compare to the folklore of the former Saturday evening market. As the story goes, Sapa was famous for its “love market”. This cultural highlight used to be the place for tribal locals to find a partner and get married.

Tradition has it that young Red Dao used to come to Sapa and sing songs to find their partners. Girls, hidden in the dark, would sing, play panpipes and mouth organs. When found by a boy - if they liked each other - they would disappear into the forest for three days. Some of them got married after that.

With the development of tourism, the real love market no longer takes place. There is a representative performance of the singing and rituals on Saturday evening in one of the community buildings.

Sapa would be considerably less colorful and interesting without the H’mong and Dao people, the largest ethnic groups in the region. The H’mong are more numerous and resourceful. Their villages may look primitive but most will have mobile phones and an email address to stay in touch. Traditionally, they were the poorest of the poor but have rapidly learned the spirit of free enterprise. Most of the Montagnards have no formal education but the arrival of foreigners/tourists has made them well aware of the value of money and many of the youngsters have picked up a basic level of English, French and a handful of other languages.

The incursion of tourism has forever changed the local tribes. Their simple lives: the cultures and languages, customs and clothing, with a backdrop of mountainous beauty are the attraction. The local women’s pursuit of tourists down Sapa’s main street, bartering over colorful clothing and souvenirs, can be an annoyance for those hoping to be left alone.

The rain really didn’t stop business in town. Umbrellas and ponchos were selling briskly and the Black Hmong women seemed to have matching umbrellas as they walked up the main street pursuing sales!



The market where the Red Dao were working was bustling. The billowing red headdresses of the Red Dao are visible all over town.





It is a surreal sight amid the accelerating development; that translates into hand embroidery and using cell phones simultaneously.









There were heavy negotiations over some handicrafts; photographs were involved. And there were some angry Red Dao as well. We made our purchases and continued through the remainder of the market to check out produce (greens galore, banana flowers, and bamboo) and poultry (chicken feet) among other items. There is always a Kodak moment to be found!



















As the rained slowed we decided to make our way to the waterfall. Thac Bac (Silver Waterfall), with a height of more than 325 feet, is one of the highest waterfalls in the country.















It was a loop track, steep and scenic, and there were stairs all the way. Phung, Jenny and I decided to climb and we left Caroline and Penny with the vendors by the barbeques I’d taken on the role of stair counting: 473 to the top and 488 coming down the other side.


















We had a snack of roasted sweet potatoes and eggs, rice stuffed in bamboo, and tea before heading on our way. Mr Bill was right there with us; on the grill, almost in the fire!

We drove to Ta Phin Village, home to Red Dao and about 6 miles from Sapa. Our arrival coincided with a few other larger vans with many more tourists. This allowed us to slip through most of the gauntlet of red headed women and children anxious to have a conversation and a sale with the tourists.



The scenario repeats itself at most of the villages: “Hello…what is your name? Where are you from? How old are you? How many children do you have?“ Most of the woman speak just enough of many languages to make an instant connection. More amazing is that these language skills are acquired from speaking with and making contacts with tourists.

I must say that there is always something to see in each village. I loved this young boy riding the water buffalo.



It felt as though spring was in the air. There were babies everywhere: humans,



ducks,









and pigs.










Ta Phin is one of the villages that offers overnight community-based tours. They have upgraded some of the facilities and offer an “up close and personal” experience of living amongst the minorities.

We stopped to see the ruins of an old church that was beautiful in its decay. The building had crumbled, but enough detail remained amid the moss to capture a by gone era.















Leaving Sapa, one might see stunning scenery on the passes were it not for the hovering clouds and fog. Intermittent clearing gave us snippets of the magnificent mountain peaks and vertical rice terraces.



I was sad to leave the mountains. There were still places to see and treks to make. It had been a pleasant relief to leave the hustle and bustle of the city.



Enroute to LaoCai, we stopped by the Sino-Vietnam border; it was the closest I would get to China on this Asian adventure!













We saw all that LaoCai had to offer (which really was not much) while we waited for a very delayed overnight train to Hanoi.



We settled into our “deluxe” sleeper cabin and realized that a later departure was advantageous, as we would have a later arrival (6:30am) in Hanoi. I was lulled to sleep in the rocking cabin.

And the adventure continues in Hanoi…

A Day of Trekking in SaPa

Vietnam is a country of ethnic minorities, with over 50 of them recognized by the Vietnamese government. The two largest groups are the Kinh (Viet) and the Hoa (Chinese), accounting for 86% of the population. The remaining ethnic minorities are known as the montagnards (mountain people), so named by the French.

The Hmong and the Zao are the largest groups in SaPa. Each of the groups has its own cultural heritage, lifestyle and language. Having settled in the mountains more than 5,000 years ago, the tribes still hold fast to custom and rituals. Historically, these groups have not been educated. The women, however, have been very industrious with embroidered clothing and handicrafts.

Located near the Chinese border in NW Vietnam. SaPa is often called as "the Tonkinese Alps". It is an incredibly picturesque village, not unlike any of the ski villages in the Alps. The big draw to the area is the trekking expeditions out to local villages and beyond. With the backdrop of the Fanxipan peak at over 10,000 feet, there is spectacular scenery everywhere; that is when the area is not shrouded in a low lying cloud or fog!

I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect as we headed down the paved road; but when we stopped at the top of the dirt turnoff, I should have realized the adventure would begin in earnest. We would leave the road for a steep descent over a dirt road toward the rice terraces. Enroute we pass a few houses, buffaloes, pigs,and of course the H'mong girls trying to sell us their goods.















Women and children selling a variety of souvenirs AND bamboo walking sticks greeted us. We debated amongst ourselves about a purchase, and then with a young boy about the cost of the bamboo pole. In the end, we each spent 5,000 VN dong (roughly 50 cents) for a touch of security and stability. As I write this sounds it sounds absolutely absurd, but in the moment, it was real!



The women and children are persistent in their sales approach. ”Hello, will you buy from me?” “What is your name?” “Where are you from?” “How old are you?” And the questions go on. Having learned the language from other tourists, they have the ability to bond with you on many levels. The chatter continues and at some point I realized that these women would be with us for the day! I did not know at the time how opportune that would be.



Yesterday we saw many of the terraced plantings from afar. They are a magnificent vista. It’s only when I got “up close and personal” that I realized that the terraces were all flooded with water. (Think mud!)



The rice fields are completely under water, which is refreshed continuously by the water flowing from the mountains. The water flows from one rice field to another via small canals until it reaches the river in the valley. The rice is planted three times each year with a 3-month growth cycle. The various shades of green that we have seen are month two in the growth cycle.



I want to give you a clear visual on the non-terra firma! Yes, this meant that at different points I would be trekking across a stonewall that felt like a 4 inch balance beam!



Did I mention that I loved my bamboo walking stick? I was doing pretty well, not feeling confident, but managing and then this very rough hand took mine and kept me on the very narrow edge of the stonewall.



It was Girl Power all the way! So how do you thank these women for their guiding hands? Giving them a tip is not culturally acceptable, so purchasing some of their embroidered handicrafts is the best option. I have a new embroidered cummerbund!

As we continued on the trail, the footing was more secure and we walked through very small villages. More often than not, we were the only trekkers; that allowed us the quietude to really take in the environs.










The terraced landscape was a constant, the homes varied: some were in disrepair and others were well constructed.









Open fires (in the houses) for cooking and drying meat were common.





There were children everywhere, as the morning session of school had dismissed.










We heard music as we passed through a village and stopped in for a closer look. A young man was playing a keyboard, and it was pure gold to our ears.



Caroline took a turn on the “ivories” and this young man was intently watching and listening. We continued to listen, after bidding farewell, as our new friend resumed practicing and it sounded familiar. This young musician had mastered Caroline’s tune melody and replayed it was we left the church.


The river itself was low and we crossed a very rocky beach before coming upon another “toll bridge”.



This one was not as well maintained as the previous one, but nonetheless, there was a fee to cross. Because it felt like a tightrope, my hands were trembling too much for any photos - a "missed" kodak moment!

Back in town, we walked up hundreds of steps to the top of Dragon Jaw Mountain, which has a botanical garden and a small performing center. The fog had settled in and the view was the length of our arms. As the saying goes, “over here you would see….” (Caroline promised to send pictures of previous visits when the sun was shining!)



We saw an ethnic dance performance and I must admit that I had a laughing attack when a young man was “making music”, blowing into a leaf. On the return trip down the hundreds of steps, we stopped for an herbal bath and massage.











This wooden tub was filled with the hottest brown, herb infused water my little tootsies have ever touched. This is a picture of my massage girl, and the older woman who owns the place. The massages are inexpensive by US standards, and the technique differs as well. The first time this young girl hopped up onto the table with me I wasn’t quite sure what to do! (Breathe deeply…in and out…)

We made our way back to the village stopping for a snack at the corner. It is a very common sight for women to set up a small barbeque and cook kebabs of beef, lamb, small “unnamed” birds; roast eggs, chestnuts or sticky rice in bamboo. We pulled up stools and sat for a while.



Later that evening we headed out to sample a Vietnamese specialty, Hot Pot: a simmering metal pot of stock. While the hot pot is kept simmering, ingredients are placed into the pot and are cooked at the table.










Our hot pot included lots of leafy greens, mushrooms, tofu, and ginger. The cooked food is usually eaten with noodles and a dipping sauce. The greens that we had were wonderful!

With our stomachs full and my bed calling to me, the adventure continues….