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We ended our beautiful day in Halong Bay with a ride back to Hanoi, and caught a night train up into the extreme north of Vietnam, near the Chinese border. A dark and uneventful
chug-a-lug led us through the growing mountains to Lo Cai, where we ascended straight up into the clouds, finally arriving in Sapa town. A three day trek through the fascinating ethnic hilltribe villages of the Hmong, Tay, and Red Dao (pronounced Zao) people lay ahead of us.
Our guide, Dung (pronounced Zoong) introduced himself, apprentice guide Diop, which he proudly informed us means butterfly, and our fellow trekkers, Luke and Casey from Australia. The six of us bundled up against the novel cold and headed off down the path into the white abyss.
Climbing down out of the clouds, expansive and breathtaking vistas of terraced hillsides, riverine gullies, and tribal villages opened up around us. We walked carefully along the edges of rice paddies, which seemed to trace the lines of a topographical map as they swirled endlessly below. The farther we descended, the
more the cloud cover dissipated and our surroundings became crisper greens and blues of cultivated indigo, reds of the soil, and dots of chickens and pigs speckling the fields.
Before lunch we briefly visited a traditional Hmong home, where Dung gave us some background information on the Hmong people and their customs. Across from us the lady of the house was cooking the evening meal, stitching intricate patterns onto handmade clothing, and doting on her two youngest children. She easily
accomplished all of these tasks with a grace and calm that was beautiful to watch. During the growing season, she and her many children would accompany her husband to tend to the rice fields. In this culture, men and women see each other as equals and divide their work accordingly, with the men sharing many of the
household duties. As we left the house, we were surrounded by the harried hens foraging and tending to their dozens of peeping chicks, contributing to the constant busy atmosphere of this mountain village.
We continued our descent, ever surrounded by the incredible terraces. Late in the afternoon, we arrived in the Tay and Hmong village of Ta Van, where we would spend the night with a Tay family. After having a few warming cups of tea with the family, we headed down to the river to stretch and relax after our long day of
trekking. Down by the river we befriended a Hmong woman named Choa and her 10 year old daughter, Tu. Choa is 37 and has five children ranging in age from 10 to 22.
After a really nice couple of hours chatting with Choa about her life and ours, she walked us back to our homestay on her way up the mountain before dark. Back at the house we sat around the kitchen fire with our host, as he masterfully cooked our delicious meal. The house was built in the traditional Tay style with open
rooms leading into one another. The kitchen is on the far right side of the house as you enter and is where all of the action happens, mostly because it is the warmest spot.
Our second day in the mountains around Sapa included more trekking that led us back up into the higher altitudes through bamboo groves, past beautiful waterfalls, and over treacherous rattan bridges. The slightly more inclement weather made for slippery ascents and descents along muddy paths, and most of the day was
spent trying to remain upright. Our bamboo walking sticks became trusted friends, and we were sad to leave them behind at the end of the day.
Neither tribe places heavy emphasis on the importance of education over skill learning and selling, and the Hmong have never had a written form of their language. The Dao written language is also dying out with the older generation, as outside influences have begun to take root, and the younger members of the tribe tend
to learn Vietnamese and reject their traditional writing as outmoded. Many of the children refuse to attend school, even if they are given the opportunity, because, as they told us, "school isn't fun and the teachers are mean." Able to make quick money, using their more advanced Vietnamese and English, the kids sell
their wares to tourists, and they have little incentive to go to classes, especially when their parents often encourage them to make the quick money for the family.
Our time in Sapa ended late in the evening as we careened down the hillside in a packed minibus, with a race car driver at the wheel. It had been difficult to say goodbye to our new friends, with hugs all around and some unexpected tears from the youngest. We realized how hard it must be for these young girls living away
from home to make friends for such a brief time and then watch them leave, wondering if they will ever see them again. We promised that if we or our friends and family return to Sapa we will find them, and we will stay in touch via email.
Our train pulled into Hanoi station before dawn. At five o'clock in the morning Hanoi was like a den of hibernating bears in the springtime. By the time we had walked from the train station to where we had left our bags, the streets were already filling up with vendors ready to feed the slowly emerging, hungry hordes.
We wasted the day repacking, strolling about, and updating the blog, while we waited for our departure on the dreaded 20-25 hour bus to Vientiane, Laos that lay ahead...
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