Sapa ~ Land of Mist & Colorful Culture

From the hustle and bustle of Hanoi, I took my first overnight bus to the town of Sapa in northern Vietnam. The taxi driver brought a group of us to the “Grand View Sapa Hotel.” Instead of the spectacular views we saw in the postcards, a thick layer of fog made our “Grand View” more of a “Gray View.” With no scenery to distract me, my first Sapa impressions were felt through my lack of proper winter attire. I had been warned there would be cooler, wet temperatures in the north. Thus, upon my arrival, I immediately purchased thick fleece socks, gloves, and at the suggestion of our tour guide, rented a pair of rubber rain boots for the trek.

Our group of fourteen international trekkers from Australia, Ireland, France and Italy, was led through the mist by a whole hoard of Vietnamese women dressed in traditional clothing. They wrapped bright, plaid scarves around their heads which flashed neon pinks and vibrant blues and greens. They carried woven baskets on their backs and made little goat figures and hearts out of the grasses and foliage as gifts for us. But, most importantly, they offered a helping hand when the mud on the trails became slick and slippery.

When I wasn't looking down at where to carefully plant my feet, I watched the fog thin and the breathtaking views of terraced rice fields came into full view. I breathed in deep. Over and over and over again. The extreme contrast of crazy Hanoi traffic and the calm of the rice paddies was a welcome change. And the 12km trek through the hills and down into the valley kept me warm and toasty.

There was no shortage of women and children trying to sell you their homemade handicrafts. Tiny hands belonging to children with big, dark chocolate brown eyes waved threaded bracelets, purses, scarves and jewelry. “Shopping?” “You buy from me?” “Cheaper, cheaper!”

Along the way I met Me-ahn, a 47 year old mother of three boys. She told me about the three different tribes in her small village – the Hmong, Zao, and Zi. She came from the Zao tribe as evidenced by her bright red headscarf with red tassels down the back. Each tribe spoke a different language and wore different clothing to distinguish themselves. Me-ahn walked with me all the way to the village where we were going to sleep for the night. She bought a large stick of sugarcane, broke it in two and gave me half for us to chew on and spit out as we walked. She claimed me as her “American daughter” and she my “Vietnamese mother” and insisted that I meet her 29 year old son! Who could resist a romantic match made in the hills of Sapa?

Eventually, the group landed in Ta Van, a small village in Sapa and trekked the last 200 meters up a nearly vertical hill to meet our homestay family. As part of our tour, we had the option to stay overnight in a Vietnamese family's home to experience their daily life. That evening, I sat around the fire they had built in the floor of their kitchen and spoke with the mother, Pang. Pang had learned English from the tourists staying at her home over the years. She was married at age 14 to her husband Thanh – a marriage arranged by both sets of parents. Now, at age 27, she has four young children. When I asked if they planned to have more, she said, “No, no – all finished!” while her husband piped up, “Yes! More! Ten more!” as he spread all ten of his fingers wide and held both hands high. Neither Pang nor Thanh went to school which means that they can neither read nor write making it very difficult for them to get jobs. But, together, they are determined to earn enough money to send all of their children to school. School is expensive, Pang explained – a cost of about 150,000 dong a week – about $6.75. And yet, despite their humble surroundings, the love of family and community is wholly apparent. The children get plenty of caresses and kisses from one another and their parents. And, Pang showed genuine enthusiasm and pleasure in the opportunity her family has to host 14+ travelers from all over the world – and event which takes place 3-4 times per week.

In the sleeping loft I shared with my fellow trekkers, I fell asleep to the giggles of children playing...and awoke to the same.