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Published: March 11th 2016
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Brr
Low clouds and mist to start our trek. Our local guide came by while we were having breakfast with a few clarifications about our itinerary. He asked what we had paid. It seems that La Beauty de Hanoi makes a good commission. Today we have a 12 kilometre trek ahead of us, down into the valley to a couple of Black Hmung villages. We sleep in a “homestay”. I am not quite sure what this is as I have read that it illegal for locals to have foreigners sleep in there homes.
The trek was 95% downhill. Some places we had to catwalk down an especially deep step. Other times it was skipping over rocks. This entailed a delicate dance and the quick decision of what foot should go forward first and plan a few steps ahead. Other times it was a leisurely walk along the narrow walls of the rice paddies.
All this was done in the clouds. Water droplets dripped from my beard. It was cold so until we got lower in the valley, a coat was needed. There was a group of Hmong women following us, returning to their village. They all wore flip flops, carried baskets and one carried a baby. None of
Claudette's Personal Assistant
This Black Hmong lady helped Claudette over the difficult parts of the trek. them showed the least sigh of being fatigued and are as sure-footed as mountain goats. There was one who took Claudette under her wing, hauling her up especially high and low steps and across slippery spots.
They obviously had things to sell but no mention was made, even during a couple of rest breaks. At a riverside restaurant in the depths of the valley, we stopped for lunch. Then the bartering began. Claudette decided to buy from the woman who had been helping her. She bought a hand embroidered pillowcase. Since we were back to back, I did not see what she was doing and thus I ended up buying one also. Somebody will receive a nice gift.
We passed through a couple more villages until we came to the end of the road. Up the beaten path to our homestay. The last steep incline was a killer. Our B&B looks like the typical farm we have seen all day, chickens and water buffalo in the yard, ducks and dogs underfoot. There is a large communal room for relaxing and eating and a dormitory upstairs.
It was downright chilly with the mist. We could see our breath.
Preparing Hemp Thread
As some people crochet or knit while doing automatic routines, these women spin thin strips of hemp to make a thread later used in embroidery. Our hostess took some embers from her cooking fire, added lumps of coal and placed the brazier in the middle of the room. This was to be our central heating. She went back to preparing supper.
Supper started off with a thimble of rice wine. Everybody here makes their own batch. It packs a good kick and is best gulped down. Of course, there is the big bowl of sticky rice, dish of tough greens and other dishes of chicken or pork cooked with carrots and onions. The skin is left on the meat. At least it is organic. This is our first experience of eating in the local’s home. Each has their own rice bowl and with their chop sticks, tweak a morsel of food from the dishes in the middle of the table. Sure hope nobody has hoof and mouth desease or that I don’t pass on my cough.
We spent the evening with our travel companions, a couple of Italians from an island near Naples. Everyone retired early, beat from the long trek. The mattress was basically a piece of hard plastic with a fitted sheet and a thick comforter. They seemed clean but I
Hand Spinning
These lengths of thread will later be dyed and woven into beautiful tapestries or incorporated into their tribal costumes. slept in my clothes nevertheless. The smoke from the coal woke me up and set me coughing for about an hour. I think I kept the whole household awake.
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