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Published: June 25th 2017
Geo: 22.3945, 104.056
The stations and stops rolled by on the eight hour overnight journey. Know that I slept until 4 am but Mac wasn't a fan of the constant motion of the trip and spent most of the night with his head jammed against the window and his feet wedged against the door trying to counteract the roller coaster ride. He probably snatched a series of 10 minute cat naps until he fell asleep about 3 am only to be startled awake by my iPad light at 4 am and then again at 5 am when I woke him because we had stopped. I thought we had arrived. Oops, still had another 90 minutes to go. I pulled the covers over my head and went back to sleep, but awake again, Mac was no chance of any more sleep.
But it was certainly better than the China experience. We had power (a big big plus), a toilet we could use (another tick in the right column), beds without lice (unbelievable advantage) AND we didn't have two strangers in the bunks above us (luxury!)
We arrived right on time to a dusty Lao Cai at 6.20 am and had to parachute out of the
train and haul the luggage behind us for the length of the train, through potholes and over train lines (no on coming trains this time.)
It is always a relief to see the guide with your name prominently displayed in a form that you recognise. Our guide introduced herself as Chai and it was easy to spot her in a crowd as a member of the northern Hmong people. The Hmong inhabit the highest reaches of this mountainous region of Vietnam and their finely pleated skirt exemplifies the Hmong expertise in producing hemp clothing using indigo dyes and batik. Chai did confess that her skirt was "more colourful" than the traditional dress of the Black Hmong people. Her skirt, which should have been predominantly black was generously festooned with lots of purple - but Chai said, with a big grin, that purple was her favourite colour (made me smile - those purple lovers are everywhere!)
It was a quick breakfast stop at the Lao Cai station restaurant and a chance to freshen up and an opportunity to try and get some semblance of balance back after the rocking and rolling overnight train journey. It was a rickety ride - with the wooden
rattle trap carriage swaying left to right like the exaggerated swing of a hammock. This was interspersed with sudden braking! The three eggs, very red over-ripe tomatoes, bricks of butter and the white bread wasn't actually the 6.30 dream brekkie for spinning heads and churning stomachs.
(Need an aside here. The itinerary says "Your guide will greet and transfer you to a local restaurant to have a simple breakfast." Chai met us at the door of the station and we wheeled our bags next door to the cafe! Love a good transfer.)
There was no time to dally. Chin was waiting with the "limousine" of our itinerary to transport us to the Bac Ha market. This market only operates on a Sunday where the Flower Hmong, Phu La, Black Dao, Tay and Nung minorities gather to buy and sell local products.
We drove down the main street of Lao Cai and headed straight for the Chinese border. It was 5 minutes from the station and was a tourist attraction in itself and was bustling with traffic. Chai shared stories of the Chinese sex trade and told stories of women, young children and babies who were being snatched from the street and sold in
China. Used as either a wife, a sex slave or a drug mule. That matched with our documentation that made mention of Lao Cai as a popular "sensualised and sexualised border town" very popular with Chinese travellers who are said to be "obsessed with Zhao Xiaojle <looking for misses>" for its sex markets. Doesn't sound like the place to be.
It was a two hour trip with lots more rocking and rolling as Chin introduced us to mountain driving Hmong style. There's only one lane and it's every man for himself. Passing is not guided by broken and unbroken lines, rather by the tooting of horns. The best idea was to just take in the scenery and let the man at the wheel do his job.
There was plenty to see as the countryside slipped by. Mountains, mountains and mountains with steep hills covered in terraced rice fields, buffalo, chicken, ducks, corn, fruit trees, vegetables, thatch roofed huts, scooters, trucks and cars, markets and stalls and small villages all combined with the background noise of the rattle and creak of the mini bus, Chai's commentary and our constant stream of questions.
Chai's English is amazing and she is self taught. Three of her
sisters are also English speaking guides but they have to fit that work in around the planting and harvesting of the rice. She has a quirky sense of humour, is affectionate and kind and of course is on her toes all of the time clearing the "path" to ensure we have a great experience. Love that she is from the Hmong minority group and is enthusiastic in sharing insights of the life of her family.
We arrived in Bac Ha just in time because one more bend in the road would have been a disaster. The toilet was a welcome sight for those suffering from motion sickness and in an effort to shake of the nauseating head spin we opted to hire a room in the restaurant and try sleep as a cure for Loraine who was definitely worse for wear and green around the gills. Have to say the restaurant/hotel manager was definitely sensitive to the situation and prepared the room at no charge - very generous and very much appreciated. We just hoped he wasn't part of the Chinese bride kidnap ring or the sex trade!
But we risked it and headed off the main road into the bowels of
the village and the sprawling valley that was the market. Smells, sounds, sights at every corner. And Chai was just the perfect host. She skirted us close enough to get the views we thought we wanted, took us closer when we showed interest and curiosity and took an alternate corner when it wasn't our cup of tea.....or bowl of horse meat.
You could buy it dead or alive. Raw or cooked. Made up or just the pieces. You could access it from a variety of vendors and at a variety of prices. Each block offered a different set of goods - some we recognised, some we did not and some that we didn't want to. We started in the food markets and Richard was the knight in shining armour as he helped a local lady load the 100 kgs of rice that had slipped off her scooter in the alleyway. I'm surprised she didn't tip him!
The food was prepared in the centre of a square that was made from table benches. Goat, horse, pig, eels and fish bubbled away next to vegetable broth. All the required additional ingredients were piled into a plate and quickly dipped in boiling water and added
to the meat, noodles and selected spices. And there were dozens and dozens of families sharing the shade, the shelter and the food. No takers in our group.
Endless rows of embroidered "things" in all shapes and sizes including shirts, skirts, dresses and trousers were in another section. Ornaments, carvings, jewellery and toys made up the next. It seemed like there were endless piles of colour all accompanied by eager vendors who were trying to make a sale.
Turned another corner and we were in the butchers. Whole animals chopped and sliced and diced on display in the roaring sunlight with lots of locals pointing and shouting and making "deals". Every part of the animal was on display. Whole pig heads, hooves and trotters, kidney and hearts, buckets of blood offal, tongues, rumps, ribs, skirt, chuck and hearts. Many hands were picking through the carcasses, turning bits over making their choices and offering up their cash.
Next block was the live animal area. Dogs, chickens, ducks, rabbits, pigs.....by the dozen and ready to be thrown onto the back of a scooter and taken home. Up the hill to the buffalo market. Just needed $2 200 USD here to add a beast to your
farm. You could also pick up your accessories - a yoke or a plough. Or maybe you wanted a mother and a suckling calf. No problem, someone was there to take your offer, intermingled with the ubiquitous bag ladies ever ready to take your money for a zippered bag replete with zipper, embroidery and tassels. We were a "no" on the buffalo and the bag.
Round the corner and it was the men only cock fighting ring with the associated gambling and blood and feathers and then the horse market. Young men of all ages were pitting dishevelled roosters in displays of their aggressive prowess. The horses were very small animals and were tethered in groups waiting to be sold and then loaded onto the trucks. The horses here were destined for the specialist horse restaurant markets in Hanoi. And intermingled in this area were the "bird men" with their song birds housed in bamboo cages suspended from the wall. Their beautiful songs were in stark contrast to the fluttering of the cocks fighting. No sale for us here either.
We did have great fun though in the markets with our number one mission. Using Chai as a model, we were on
the hunt for a hat for Loraine. And after discarding at least 50 options, Richard settled on a little low profile, wide brimmed number in beautiful orange colours. At one stage Richard had five vendors vying for his $5 and he was happy that his mission had been accomplished. WayJay made one purchase- two silk liners for sleeping bags for Mindy (pink) and Ian (blue). Thought we had done a great deal, but when I got back to the minibus, realised that somewhere between the horse market, cock fighting ring and the herbal medicine aisle I had dropped one! Mac retraced our steps but with no luck - guess I made someone else very happy. Sorry @Mindy, I dropped the pink one!
Completed a hurried set lunch (hmmmm, we still don't like it when we don't get to choose), settled the bill and collected Loraine without having to pay a ransom or cross the border on a rescue mission.
Have to say that we were not too keen to get back on the road but this was only a short trip. It was time for us to board a boat to experience a little "float" from the Trung Do Village down the
Chay River. Chin had to go off road to get us into the village which was in the general vicinity of the river. It was of course the middle of the day and stinking hot as we made our way along the dusty viallge road for more than a kilometre. We were accompanied by a naked young boy from the village who we think was trying to make his escape. One of the village elders made short work of that idea and hunted him back up the trail.
I am not sure what I imagined, but I can tell you the boat we climbed aboard would not ever have come out of my mind. It seemed like a floating iron tub with s mix master on the back for a motor and a pole on the front for a rudder. But we willingly climbed in because the boat ride was cutting off about 30 minutes of the drive on the mountain road.
Apart from the fact that the river was way too shallow and the boatman had to jump out and push the boat through the shallows as the iron hulk ground across the stony river bed, it was cruelly quite idyllic
and relaxing. It didn't rock, it didn't roll and there was no on coming traffic so we were a little disappointed when we had to get out and head back to the minibus - was no escaping it.
The only way was "up." We did make time for another detour to stop off at a village that has been transformed into a local market.
The key destination this afternoon however was Sapa. We thought we were on a mountainous winding road this morning. We were kidding ourselves. I have no idea what the countryside was like. I either closed my eyes or hid under my scarf. Richard's cries of "Don't look, don't look" were wasted on me - there was no way I was looking and poor Loraine had no choice, her only option was to keep her eyes glued to the road to avoid the return of the motion sickness. This was the Big Sur of America combined with the mountain ranges of China all over again.
Although I have to say Chin was the best. He was slow and steady trying to keep our stomachs and fear in check. And of course we were on the "drop" so any
glance at the right hand side made you feel as if you were going to fall off the side of the mountain and we were either pushed along from behind or challenged head on by barrelling government road works lorries, oversized trucks carting livestock and produce, 50 seater tourist buses, other "limousines" and the ever present scooters because everyone was on a schedule to deliver the deluge of tourists to Sapa or back to the train at Lao Cai.
Famous for its rugged scenery, Sapa sits at an altitude of 1800 metres and can only be accessed by this single provincial road which is a combination of dirt, rubble and pot holes. It is only 40 kms but it took just over 90 minutes to get to our hotel. As Chin pulled into the driveway we chorused a cheer and gave him a rousing round of applause. Richard offered to buy him a beer because we had survived. Chin politely refused because as soon as he bundled us out of his vehicle he was turning around to head back to Lao Cai with a return group and then had to pick up his last group for the evening ride back up
the mountain.
Our hotel, The Victoria, sat high on the hillside overlooking the lake. The hotel featured local crafts and the most amazing art work work - oil paintings of the local minorities - and was all polished wood and was beautifully presented (no air conditioning though.)
Our main goal on arrival, was to wash off the dust and the endurance of the trip that began yesterday evening in Hanoi. Have to say there was a deafening sound coming from the lake. Apparently the government radio station blares the local and international news "truths" for everyone in town for one hour each day at what seems like an ear splitting volume.
Dinner was at a local restaurant recommended by Chai and by one of Richard's work colleagues. We walked down the hill and through, over and around the ever present building sites. The restaurant did not disappoint. Again, surrounded by polished wood (no sir conditioning just a window) the interior was definitely relaxing and inviting. We settled in for a shared feast. Chai had joined us after dashing home and getting changed (she rents a room in Sapa) so we were able to create our own banquet menu at The Hill Station.
Variety was the key. Had pork belly, buffalo, rainbow trout, chicken broth (how could something so simple be so delicious) , bamboo shoots with chicken, along with crispy chicken and the best fried spring rolls to date. Boys washed it down with a dose of chocolate brownies and there were coffees for some.
A cab ride home via the scenic route for the grand total of 50 000 dong and that was our welcome to Sapa. Curled up under the net, air con on. We didn't have to count buffalo, pigs or goats. It was instant sleep.
Steps: 12 560
Temperature: from hot to bloody hot to stinking hot 21 to 36 degrees
PS Welcome back @ Aunty Gail. Been limited internet connection for us. Back in civilisation for a few hours this morning. Sounds s if you need a rest! xo
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Aunty Gail
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And I'm STILL laughing! Your adventures are definitely doing my head in!!!!Vans, trains, boats....& still more lovely 'fresh' food markets!! How good will your next Woolies experience at home be???? ....xxx