The town of Sa Pa is the centre of things in the mountains We caught the night train to Loa Cai leaving at 9pm and arriving at 6am the following day. The trains look nothing like the brochure.
Breakfast in Loa Cai and then off to the market town of Bac Ha another 75km. This is the local market selling horses, buffalo, pigs, chickens, ducks and dogs! Also lots of embroidered tourist stuff. The women of the hill tribes wear amazing brightly coloured dresses and scarves. Mobile phones also a big seller.
Bussed back almost to Lao Cai and then up into the hills proper to Sa Pa. This was a French hill station at about 1500m. Lots of hotels perched on the ridge. The clouds had rolled back so got a good view.
Next day we met our guide, a tiny Black Mhong woman. Walked (they call it trekking) out of Sa Pa and basically wended our way to the valley floor. Some people only had sandshoes and found the going slippery. It was pretty dry really but would be treacherous in the wet, all clay. The Mhong women (1 guide and 6 hangers-on) scampered up and down the tracks in their little plastic sandals even walking right through some boggy parts while assisting a tourist. The reason for their presence and concern became apparent at the rest stop when the contents of their wicker packs appeared for sale. Those most needful of assistance on the trail found it difficult to resist buying an item or two...or three.
The track overlooked the valley, all the lower parts covered in rice terraces. Unfortunately the harvest was already in so no glorious yellow fields, just a few water buffalo squidging about.
Crossed a single lane handrail-less concrete bridge high above the valley floor. Luckily no oncoming traffic and then down a hydroelectric track to recross the swiftly flowing mountain river to the lunch stop.
Interesting lunch time watching 3 local boys with crow bars levering up rocks slightly to disturb the small fish that were then supposed to dart into a conveniently placed fish trap. Obviously one or other party didn't understand the rules because we never saw a fish being retrieved from the trap. It did however involve almost complete immersion and the loss of a jandal. Also spent lunchtime fending off small entrepreneurial girls selling local wares. Despite their prettiness (the wares I mean) there are only so many bookmarks, ditty bags and keyrings one needs.
Onwards to drop off the half-day trekkers to the bus then over the fields to our homestay. Relaxed with a beer or two overlooking the valley and chatted amongst ourselves, then off to explore the village. Much work going on concreting the village paths using a mix of huge stones and cement. None of that graded builders mix here or vibrating or screeding or floating, just slap it down, rake it out and let gravity do the rest. Surface texture is left to the local dogs and ducks.
Walked down towards the local school and we were met by some of the kids wending their way homeward. With one "can I take your photo?" this group were all lined up...
Up early and breakfasted in time for the next day's tough trekking, 2 hours strolling before lunch. Stopped at a spectacular rock face waterfally thing then across the river for an uphill climb to lunch.
After lunch we visited our guide's house. A little different from our homestay. They lived (4 generations) in a small house with an earth floor. Considering that there is water everywhere in paddies and drains around the house, the floor is perpetually damp. There is no ground covering, not even lino like the Mongolians use. The cooking is done on an open firepit and the smoke fills the room and escapes out under the eaves. There is no chimney, no smoke hole or anything and the house is blackened inside. The furniture is basic, stools about 200mm high, no benches. Each generation has it's own sleeping area but it is more like a cupboard than a bedroom. The 8-month old baby did have a plastic walker and there was power to charge the cellphone but no lighting. Since there was only a door, no windows the house was smoke-blackened, it was pretty hard doing the fine embroidery work for which the area is renowned.
The men here only have 3 things to achieve in life, buy a buffalo (or motorbike), marry and build a house, after that it's up to the women folk. The men have embraced this principle wholeheartedly. So our guide earned most of family income by guiding, and her mother carried the baby around all day while we were trekking because our guide was breast-feeding the baby. In between times they are cooking and embroidering like mad when not working the fields.
In their society, the youngest son inherits the house as soon as he is a man because he is expected to take care of the parents. But the youngest may not want to and so, in our guides case, they were waiting for the 16 year-old son to make up his mind either way before our guide and her husband could settle on their plans. And so there was not much being done on the house in the interim.
Back to the hotel for an early dinner and then bussed back to the train station in Lao Cai. Although only 75km, it takes 3 hours because of the steep roads and criminally negligent drivers. Saw the results of two accidents on the way, a motorcycle vs motorcycle (blood on the road) and a rolled truck. Luckily we were able to squeeze through.
Sleeper train back to Hanoi. Even smaller compartment so 4 sets of luggage between the bottom bunks. Also cooler weather so we all slept in right to Hanoi. Within 5 minutes they had turned off the train power so our final exit was in pre-dawn darkness. The two French Canadian women in our compartment had slept in pyjamas so we left them struggling into something more appropriate and one of them extricating herself from the top bunk.
Took our time and walked back about a km to our new hotel.
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