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Published: August 6th 2006
From my room balcony
A view of the town from my room balcony. Although the sun was out, it was still cold.The next day started off brilliantly. The sun decided to grace us with its presence. No change in the temperature though. It was still cold. I had to check out of the hotel as I was going for the homestay tonight. I left the big backpack in the storage room and took the bare essentials (toiletries, extra tops, camera, a bottle of water, etc, etc) in my little haversack and waited for my guide in the lobby. It was the same guide as the day before. It was a different set of people today. All females travelling solo! We had time for small talk and got to know each other better as the day progressed.
The natural scenery was totally breathtaking as we made our way to the villages of Lao Chai & Ta Van. Although the sun was out, the remaining mist lent the mountains that air of mystery. We started our journey on the paved roads carved along the mountains.
Along the way, we met several village women (young and old) making their way to the town to sell their wares. Their hands were busy at work making the handicraft even though they were walking. Industrious ladies!
Our guide pointed out a newly built hotel (with bungalow-styled villas) after about ten minutes into our trek. These villas had magnificent view overlooking the rice terraces and the mountains. I definitely wouldn’t mind waking up to such lovely view daily!
We spotted a village boy a little farther up. I had not seen any until now. He was trying to start the motorcycle. Riding pillion were at least 3 women. Young females would be a better term. It was a feat on wheels. Too bad the engine couldn’t start. The women stood around waiting for him. We waved our goodbyes and continued our trek.
We were still walking on paved roads. To my right laid the mountain to which the road was carved out from and to my left, wonderful greenery from all the padi fields and trees and grass. It was difficult to continue resisting taking pictures of it all. It made me realise how little of nature I’ve seen so far.
Tourism was definitely one of the major driving forces of the local economy. As tourists, we were subjected to the constant sales pitch of “buy me, buy me” regardless if they were
selling blankets, bracelets, earrings, small bags, hats and even bamboo poles! Women, young and old, seemed to be the ones entrusted with this role. I wondered why all the men went?
We veered off the paved road and headed for a hut nearby. It was our first pit stop before continuing on our trek. Several tourists were also taking a break. We sat down on little tree stumps fashioned as stools. As usual, the local village women approached us, all trying to make a sale. Unfortunately, they were all selling the same things. I would have paid someone for a calf massage!
We rested for about fifteen minutes before resuming on our trek. Paved roads gave way to dirt roads. It was the real thing now. We were making our way through the farmed lands. The path taken by all the locals, nothing constructed. We continued meeting local women, most of them with a basket of goods strapped on their shoulders, making their way into town to sell their wares.
We met more locals along the way. Children, some as young as five, were selling bamboo poles. Some of them looked like they could do with a
Black H'mong ladies on the way to town
They were all waiting for the guy (on the left) to start his motorcycle before hopping onto it. good bath. That sight sure tugged the heartstrings of some people who bought the bamboo poles from them. Laura was one of them. Somehow she “disappeared” for a while and later appeared, bamboo pole in tow. She refused to tell us how much the pole costs despite our persuasion. I “borrowed” her pole for one of my pictures. We continued meeting more children. Sometimes, they would tag along with us and try to strike up a conversation. They seemed genuinely interested in learning more about us. Most of them picked up English from tourists and being children, it was easier to learn a foreign language. It was too good to be true. Sure enough, some of them would eventually try to sell you something.
The possible good part about being Asian was that very few local women approached me to buy their stuff. Or was it because I had the “keep away, she won’t buy” look? Or was it because they thought I was a Vietnamese? I had no clue. It sure allowed me to take in all the sights without being constantly badgered and having to refuse them.
Another stop was scheduled near the riverbank. A young
Village children
Met them along the trek. boy was running around just wearing a T-shirt that badly needed a wash. He was entertaining us with his pebble skimming skills across the water surface. About fifteen minutes later, we resumed our trek.
It became much warmer with all the walking. However, it was too much of a hassle to take off my jacket. Plus there was no more space in my little haversack. We finally made it to our lunch destination. That was after we saw some D’zao ladies selling their wares. Their dressing was unlike that of the H’mong ladies. Instead of blue, they were dressed in bright red. Even their headgear was red. Our guide told us that it was their custom to shave off their eyebrows so as to appear more beautiful or something like that. They were the only D’zao ladies I saw during the whole trek. I was told that they would have to walk a long way from their own village to appear around this part of the mountain.
We ate lunch shortly after. A plate of sliced tomatoes and cucumbers, small baguettes, wedges of cheese and some bananas were shared among the four of us. Each of us had
2 serving. The weather seemed much cooler the moment we sat down. Somehow, sitting in the shade didn’t help as well. All of us wished to something warm. At the next table, several Asian (I believe they were Koreans) were tucking into their bowls of hot noodles soup. If not for the language barrier, I would have just joined them.
Next on my list was the toilet break. Where was it? I told myself not to expect too much after all, I was in the middle of the mountains here! Four dried up bamboo poles, a crude hole in the ground with river water running through it, wooden planks as the floorboards and thick blue coloured plastic sheets for the walls. That was the toilet. To secure the toilet flap, I pierced the top end of the sheet with one of the wires that jutted out. It took several seconds for me to realize that I just couldn’t do it, especially after a sudden wind came and the lower half of the sheet was blown outwards, revealing the toilet to all. This I was not expecting. I came out and decided against it. However, when you’ve got to go,
you’ve got to go. I took a chance. Moments before, a bunch of tourists walked past and said that the toilet seemed like some shadow puppet performance. Did I mention that it was a sunny day? Seriously, I had no wish to analyse that! The deed was finally done and we continued on our way.
We came across a village school. The teacher was conducting dance lessons for the children. She was showing them the steps and hand movements for the dance. We walked around the school and went into one of the classrooms. The name register was pasted on the wall. There were about thirty plus names on the register. I couldn't deipher what order the names were in. We left minutes after.
We arrived at our destination around late afternoon. It felt good to rest our feet. Our host offered us hot tea and we were seated outside the house. Chatting. Bernie was doing her best to fend off the attention of two village ladies who followed her for about half an hour. She was interested to buy one of the blankets. However, she wanted to be able to see and compare the handiwork before making
a decision. She replied “later” to one of the ladies when they approached her, thinking it was the best way to fend them off. Big mistake. They presumed that she would buy something later. It took some time before they left her alone.
The house that I was staying in was made of wood. At certain parts, empty green bottles were used as a base to support the wood. The toilet was outside. The door was made of strips of dried bamboo weaved together. It was a squat urinal where the flash was just a hose with water from the nearby river (I presume) constantly flowing out of it. The bath area was a separate area that was linked to the kitchen. This allowed easy access to water during cooking but the entrance was outside the house.
Our host had a young daughter who was very friendly. She often came up and we tried to engage her in conversation. Feeling rather bored, we decided to entertain her with some childhood song of “Heads, shoulders, knees and toes”. All was going well until she ran off to her mum’s side the moment she was offered a slice of orange.
Bamboo pole for sale
Children on their way to sell the bamboo pole. The other one had already sold his the day earlier. This was after taking all the lollipops that Laura had.
Later, two other tourists joined us with their guide. Golan and Aithen from Israel. They were also doing the homestay and would be staying together in the same house as us. We drank hot tea, exchanged stories of our travels to date and also about ourselves.
Time flies when you’re enjoying yourself. We proceeded to the dinner table where all the mouth-watering home cooked food was being served. Kudos to our guides and their culinary skills! Our host was generous with the rice wine and poured each a liberal amount. Dinner was made more enjoyable as we traded funny stories about previous travels. No one would ever forget about Laura and her Black Stallion story (great laughs from that one) nor Golan (also known as “Goulash”) and his Desert King (flamenco dancer) tale. We found out that it was Golan’s birthday the day before and sang him a belated birthday song. Angela and James (Edith met them during her Halong Bay tour) joined us and we continued chatting. The night ended on a high note!
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