We arrived in Lao Cai at 4AM, one hour earlier than expected. With sleepy eyes we walked outside only to find loads of minibuses and drivers trying to overprice us for the trip to Sapa, only 45km further. We got a van for 40.000VND, got inside and because the buses won’t leave until their van is full…we waited. Everytime a train would arrive, I was hoping our man would catch some more foreigners, so we could leave and get some sleep. Finally, the bus was full! It was still dark outside when we got in the van and when we finally left when the sun had come out. As we were driving up the hills we saw the sun rise behind the mountains, lighting the green fields and rice paddies below us. It was ‘jaw-droppingly’ beautiful.

The bus dropped us of in Sapa and from the minute we got out, a few girls of the H’Mong minority surrounded us, trying to sell us jewelry. They followed us the entire way to our hostel, asking us questions: ‘how old are you”, “where are you from”, “what’s your name?” We were too tired to answer them and fled into our hostel.

We slept until noon, took a shower and head out to the center of the town. Immediately, we were surrounded and followed by the minority girls again. The town itself is really small, with a central square which holds a market every day. We bought some souvenirs, had lunch and enjoyed the beautiful smiles and hello’s of the minority people. They really are quite beautiful, with their traditional clothes, crazy big earrings, black long hair and piercing grayish brown eyes. It was hard to put an age to their appearance; their faces wrinkled, but their eyes so full of energy. Off course, tourism has taught them commercialism, as we found out personally on our second day in Sapa.

We had joined our hostel for a tour to the local villages, but little did we know what we were getting ourselves into. First of all, it was raining cats and dogs. Not a single blue spot in the sky, only mist and rain! Totally unprepared for our trip, we each bought a colorful poncho, thinking this would help us stay dry. And because we figured we were gonna go there by car (spoiled brats we are!), we just wore some slippers.

Our guide picked us up and we started walking. Walking to the car, we figured. But we kept on walking and walking and after 15 minutes, we asked our guide about it. Turned out we were HIKING to the villages and a car would pick us up after the walk, to drive us back to the hostel.
Then we figured that walking wasn’t going to be too bad. But soon those roads changed into mud, and mud changed into water. We were off the main road, descending into the valley, where the first village was. We walked, or rather: ‘slid’ down the muddy road, through and literally ‘in’ some rice fields. The road was extremely slippery and my fragile slippers soon decided this was not their normal territory. My right slipper died on me and got stuck in the mud. And so I left my left slipper there as well, feeling like an idiot with only one. I descended the valley barefoot, mud all over my feet and legs. Looked less idiotic, I figured 🙂 Liz and Cynthia both fell flat on their asses, we probably stepped in some buffalo shit and we soon realized our bright poncho didn’t help at all. Because of all the sliding and falling, our ponchos had started to tear up and leave big holes where it shouldn’t. We were wet from the rain, wet from sweating and dirty from the mud.
It was actually pretty hilarious, because the entire time, the girls of the H’Mong minority had followed us, and talked to us, and only now we had realized why: to help us down the muddy path. My ‘friend’ was a 16 year old who hopped down the muddy path and made it look so easy. Liz’s companion was a 54 year old with two kids, and she too, wasn’t sliding at all! In between our screams of panic and our laughing sprees, we took a look up from our feet and noticed where we were. Right in between the rice paddies! Everywhere we looked were fields of green and water reflecting the grey sky, curbed in all directions. It was so amazing! Sure, we looked as if we were hit by a tornado, but it was worth it! At the end of the way down, the 54 year old slapped me on my legs and held her thumb up, laughing at me with a huge yellow smile! 🙂

Off course at the end of the path, the girls who helped us wanted to sell us jewellery and bags. We wanted to give them something for helping us down, but they were asking way too much for their goods. When we said we wanted it cheaper, they made us feel guilty about them helping us. One of them even told Liz in a whining little voice: ‘but you were so heavy!’

Good tactic… I ended up buying a pair of earrings and a little bag. I also had to buy new shoes as I could no longer continue the rocky road barefoot.

After lunch, we continued walking through the villages and saying ‘oohs and aahs’ along the way. The rain had stopped, the sky had cleared up and we occasionally felt the sun on our skins.

That evening we took an overnight bus back to Hanoi. Never take a bus in Vietnam….I’ll tell you why in my next blog 🙂

Magali