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The next morning, we woke up at 7 a.m. and got packed. It seemed like we had just arrived in Sa Pa, the third and penultimate distinct portion of our Vietnamese adventure, and it was already check-out day. We headed down to the dining room at 8 o'clock for breakfast. The breakfast buffet offered cheese, French toast, sausage, mini-flan, pineapple, yogurt, cereal, coffee, fresh peach juice, and pineapple cake.
We met Cuong shortly before 9 o'clock. We had a local driver today, as Mr. Giang was currently driving our van back to Hanoi We would meet him there tomorrow after taking an overnight train. Of course the driver substituution worked seamlessly, as Cuong had coordinated everything. Cuong had wanted to take us to nearby Silver Waterfall, but because it's the dry season, it wasn't flowing. Instead we went the highest point you can drive to, and saw some beautiful vistas of the surrounding mountains, which looked purple in the hazy sunshine. Then we drove to Cat Cat tourist area. This was a rural area with a nature trail. We walked down a stone path past souvenir and craft stalls. The scenery was gorgeous with houses dotting the landscape of terraced mountain rice fields. We passed simple irrigation systems, where bamboo stalks cut in half were used as pipes to get the water down further into the valley. We also saw more of the now-familiar wooden rice threshers which use flowing water and gravity to automatically pound rice. We passed a pen of black pot-bellied pigs and piglets. We walked down, down, down, getting warmer as we went. If we had to retrace our steps to get back to the car, there would be a lot of steep uphill in the hot sun. We heard someone say that wasn't the case, and we hoped it was true. So much for this supposed cool weather in the mountains! We arrived in a small valley with a river running through it. We crossed a footbridge and found ourselves at the viewing area for the Si Waterfall. It was very pretty. The water was gleaming in the sunlight as various rivulets cascaded down the jagged rocks. It looked magical. From the waterfall, we had to walk back up on the opposite side of the river. We passed some more shopping stalls. They had wooden water buffalo bells for sale. I had wanted a small one to use as a Christmas ornament. I bought the smallest one I could find, though it was still way too large to hang on a Christmas tree. We would find something to do with it...maybe use it as a windchime or door knocker. As we continued walking back up out of the valley, we ran into Me, a Red Dao guide whom Cuong had known since she was a little girl. She was very friendly, and Cuong told her that we would be visiting her village this afternoon. The sun was very strong and hot, and we found ourselves sweating a lot. We stopped at a small building where Cuong bought us some cold cans of soda, which were quite refreshing. There were lots of other tourists taking a break here as well. Craig does not do well in heat, and we feared that he might get dehydrated. We continued on our way, and as we huffed and puffed, Cuong told us that there was only one more big hill before our rendezvous with the driver. The heat seemed to be getting to all of the hiker. Some entrepreneurial young local men were offering tourists a ride up the hill on the back of their motorbikes. "Very slow!" they promised, in an attempt to convince the reticent. Some of the tourists took them up on it. The sun was deadly. We were tempted, but we had come all this way and the car was very close at this point. Maybe if they had gotten to us 10 minutes earlier when we were further down... We continued walking until we reached the car. We were driven back to the hotel. We went to our room to prepare to check out. Since there was no air conditioning or fan, there was no relief. Craig was overheated, and was starting to feel the effects of dehydration. We made sure that he had plenty to drink. My hiking boots had started to fall apart (with the rubber literally disintegrating) before we even left Boston. I had lugged them halfway around the world and throughout northern Vietnam in case I needed them for some serious hiking. Not that they necessarily would have even functioned if needed, but I couldn't bring myself to throw them away...until now. Tomorrow we would be heading to Halong Bay and then back to Hanoi. No need for hiking boots there. So I left them with the hotel room trash and lightened my luggage by a couple of pounds. The hotel had been very nice, and once again it seemed that we hadn't had enough time to truly enjoy all of its amenities. Our trips always cover so much ground that we never get to stay in one place for long. We don't have enough time off from work to truly get to stay for as long as we would like.where we checked out. We stopped at Baguette & Chocolat in town for lunch. This restaurant in a beautiful French colonial house is run by the Hoa Sua School, founded in 1994 to give disadvantaged children an opportunity to learn culinary arts. Training at the school and at this restaurant prepares students for eventual placement in local hotels and restaurants. Cuong ordered spring rolls as an appetizer to share, and we each ordered an a la carte item off of the menu as a light lunch. I had an open-faced aubergine, goat cheese, and tomato sandwich which was absolutely delicious! Craig was still feeling a bit overheated and/or dehydrated. He decided to eat something very plain and safe: a chicken, egg, tomato, lettuce, cucumber, and mayonnaise sandwich served on a baguette. The restaurant has a glass bakery case full of fancy goodies. Craig and I shared a gorgeous-looking slice of milk chocolate cake for dessert. It was tasty, but drier than we prefer. We were supposed to do another hike, this time to at Ta Phin village, a village of the Red Dao (pronounced Zao) ethnic minority. Craig thought it might not be a great idea to do another hike in the hot sun. But we really wanted to visit the village. Cuong calmly suggested that we could drive to the village instead, and do a little walking around once we got there. This sounded good to us. Once again, it was nice to have the flexibility to change plans on the fly when needed, one of the many benefits of a private trip. So we were driven the short distanceout of town to Ta Phin, passing a burned-out Catholic church, a casualty of a backlash against French colonialism. Even though it was not that far by car, trekking the distance in the sun would have been too much, and we were glad to be driven instead. When we arrived in Ta Phin Village, a group of Red Dao women were waiting to greet us. They were identifiable by their bright red headscarves. The headscarves of the elder women are very elaborate. Cuong asked one of the women to unroll hers for us to show us how it is wrapped. It is a large piece of red fabric with white edging and long red tassels decorated with metal beads. They fold and wrap it so that it looks like a fluffy red pillow with several tassels dangling down. The headscarves of the younger women are much more simple: a red kerchief secured with a white tie. Cuong explained to us that the women pull out the hair from their eyebrows and foreheads to create a smooth forehead visible under their scarves to make themselves more attractive to their husbands. The women wore loose fitting indigo pants with geometric patterns embroidered in yellow and white. A long-sleeved indigo wrap tunic is worn with a separate panel covering their backsides. This back panel is very elaborately embroidered, and it can take them a month and a half just to embroider that one piece. Several women had their embroidery out and were working as they chatted. One woman was wearing two pairs of reading glasses at once. Cuong said that on a previous visit, he had been involved in distributing reading glasses to the villagers. This time, Cuong had brought notebooks, crayons, and candy as gifts to the villagers. Craig and I helped to pass them out to the women of the village for their children and grandchildren. Most of the women seemed to speak a little English, and they were able to tell Craig how many children they had that each needed a notebook. Most of them were polite and grateful, but several were demanding. Tourism is a double-edged sword. Though it brings resources into the community, it also invades the community's privacy. Everyone believes that they are entitled to a slice of the tourism pie, and there are not always enough resources to go around. One of the women, whose name was Mai La, could speak English very well. She was very friendly and smiled a lot. She told us that because of the climate and cold winters here, there is only one growing season per year for rice and corn. Most areas in Vietnam can usually get 3 harvests per year, so it puts the ethnic minorities of this area at an economic disadvantage. Cuong talked to Mai La and she invited us to visit her house. She and six other women led us through the village. We saw a group of toddlers, and each was wearing an elaborate tasseled, embroidered, and beaded hat. Cuong explained that these hats are worn to protect the babies from evil spirits. In this area of the village, the "road" was actually a giant slab of naturally occurring marble. We followed it until it turned into a dirt road leading past houses and shops. We passed a newly constructed health clinic and some green rice fields. There was a man selling popsicles to children. He honked an old-school bicycle horn to get attention. Cuong treated everyone around to a popsicle, both adults and children. Unlike the village right outside of Ha Giang where people liked the opportunity to get their children's photos taken, older children here seemed to be shielding the younger children from being photographed. With many tourists constantly in and out of the village, it was understandable. But it made us appreciate the openness and genuine interactions that we had with people near Ha Giang. We continued our walk to Mai La's house. It was constructed similarly to the Tay guesthouse: it had a framework of wooden beams. But instead of being on stilts, it was a single story with a dirt floor. Its roof was gabled like the guest house, but with corrugated metal instead of a thatched roof. The walls were made of imperfect vertical wooden planks side by side, whereas at the guest house, everything was square and well-fitted together. We went inside and it took our eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light coming in from between the wall boards. We met Mai La's husband and son, who were sitting on low woodenm benches at a table eating, drinking, smoking out of a water pipe, and playing cards. Like the interior of the guest house, there was an open area in the middle, and beds and other furniture are around the perimeter. We saw Mai La's foot-pedal sewing machine. They have several areas that they use as kitchens, both inside and outside. The indoor "stove" was a block of concrete with a wood fire underneath it. Cuong knows how to push Mai La's buttons and he teased her about the bedroom area, telling her that the two kids she already has are plenty. "One is good. Two alright. Three - too many!" He had Mai La laughing hysterically. He certainly is a charming man, and is easily able to talk and joke with anyone he meets, always eliciting a smile. We were lucky to have such a good will ambassador traveling with us. Mai La joked with Cuong that he should help her buy a motorbike. "We don't have a motorbike, or a water buffalo. Too expensive." She said that her family does, however, have two pigs. While water buffalo cost between $700 and $900 U.S., pigs are a more affordable (but still not cheap) $250. The women started to ask if we would look at their embroidery work to see if there was anything that we wanted to buy. They were savvy, knowing that if we waited until we got back to the car, there would be much more competition for them from the other ladies we had met when we first arrived. They said that it would be too crowded. Cuong suggested that we wait, so we trusted his judgment. I told Mai La that I would look at her work before we left, and one of her friends piped up, "Mine too!" We walked back towards where we had entered the village. Mai La ran into her 8-year-old daughter, and she introduced us. A group of kids were gathered outside a little shop. Cuong bought some sweets and passed them out to the kids. They still shielded the youngest kids from our cameras. We continued walking back to the car. Mai La noticed the bracelets on my wrist that La had given me yesterday. "Present from Black Hmong," she said knowingly. This also belied that I had bought items from the Black Hmong. She would expect the same. Seven women had accompanied us since our arrival, and each of them wanted us to buy something from them. They were all digging in their bags to show their wares. The only fair thing I could think of was to at least buy from Mai La, since she had opened her home to us. Depending what they had for sale, we might buy from others as well. Mai La took several items out of the large basket she carried on her back, and I looked through them. I chose a piece which had the same type of delicate embroidery that is featured on their clothing. It was technically a collar but I thought it would look nice hanging on the wall. It had two metal embellishments on it. Mai La was quite happy and thankful that I purchased it, but others felt left out and started accusing me of having promised to buy from them. I apologized and tried to explain that I had said I would look, but that I couldn't possibly buy from everyone. Their reaction was harsh and made us decide not to buy anything else. It was likely to cause a riot. A busload of other tourists arrived and a swarm of women surrounded them before they could even get out of the bus. While the majority of the women were distracted by this, we took the opportunity to say thanks and goodbye and hop back into the car before we were harassed further. Cuong said that he gets frustrated with the women from this village when they behave that way about selling their wares. He has tried to explain to them that it puts people off when they are so pushy. Also, he feels like he had just brought them school supplies and bought everyone ice creams and snacks, yet they are not satisfied. But then he said that he reminds himself that they are not as fortunate as he is, and desperation causes them to act that way. Each tourist who comes to town is an opportunity to get some extra money for their family, so there is a lot of competition. And with just a single agricultural growing season in these mountains, they have less opportunity to grow food than people in other areas of the country. We were very glad that we had not decided to hike to the village. Just walking to Mai La's house was draining in the early afternoon sun, and it left us feeling depleted. We got comfortable in the car, slipped off our shoes, and settled in for a ride back to Lao Cai which would take slighly over an hour. We left the woods behind and returned to the modern concrete city, where we would be catching an overnight train back to Hanoi. The driver brought us to the official Chinese border crossing. There is a bridge over the Red River, and much commerce goes on, with people crossing over to work and trade. The Chinese had built a welcome gate on their side, and the Vietnamese built a bigger one on their side. There are tall buildings on each side, and the two countries are always trying to outdo one another. The amount of commerce and development between these two Communist countries was certainly not what Americans are taught to believe about Communism. We didn't get pictures at the border as it is generally frowned upon. Some people took the risk, taking covert photos with their smartphones. But the last thing we would need is to have our camera confiscated by the Vietnamese or Chinese military, so we didn't take the photo that we wanted to. As a consolation, Cuong got a photo of us on the Vietnamese side of the border, sitting on a stone marker. We went into a temple where people were practicing the fairyism religion. Fairyism is a home-grown Vietnamese religion. The people were tired of having to follow the religions of their colonizers and oppressors, so when they were granted more freedom of religion, they came up with something of their very own. Cuong explained that his mother had practiced this religion. It consists of 36 different characters, and at this ritual, there was a one-man show, where a single man represented each of the 36 male and female characters. He had four attendants who helped him to quickly change from one costume to the nezt, while he bowed to the altar, accompanied by live music played on cymbals and drums. Cuong commented afterwards that the man portraying the characters appeared to be gay. I took this opportunity to ask how gay people are treated in Vietnam. Cuong said, "Most people understand that they are born that way and it is accepted." This was a pleasant surprise. Cuong explained that fairyism is not a religion for the poor, as money is collected at their rituals. We saw a lot of money changing hands, and one woman sitting near us was constantly counting and stacking money. Altars were piled with offerings of food, flowers, and cash. After watching the ritual for a while, the driver took us downtown and dropped us at the Bordeaux Hotel, a few doors down from the restaurant we had eaten at a few days earlier. We arrived at around 5 o'clock. We checked into a simple day room. This would allow us a chance to freshen up before our overnight train ride. The room had air conditioning and a nice clean shower. We were able to relax in comfort after a sweaty day in the hot sun. In addition to showering, we also organized our luggage so that anything we might need on the train would be easily accessible. There sure seemed to be a lot of traffic going through Lao Cai. We could hear trucks constantly passing by the hotel. I sat on the bed and wrote in the journal. The mattress was rather hard, but we weren't sleeping here, so it made no difference. At 6:45 p.m., we went downstairs to the second floor restaurant to meet Cuong for dinner. Craig was feeling refreshed and cooled down, and ready for the next stage of the adventure. People were starting to congregate in the restaurant while waiting for the 9 o'clock train. There was a large table of western tourists we recognized from the Victoria Hotel. Cuong had gone out and purchased two bottles of local corn liquor (Sim San) to drink with dinner. He poured it into shot glasses and we toasted. It was not as smooth as the rice wine we had become accustomed to. He had also bought us a tourist map of the area, which we had been looking for. For dinner, we had baby corn and chicken soup, duck with onion, prawn with bell peppers and lemongrass, pork, rice, beef, and broccoli. Craig had a Ha Noi beer and I had a Coke. We finished off one bottle of the corn liquor and started the second. A Vietnamese woman walked into the restaurant with a western man. As she stormed through the restaurant, she knocked a pitcher of water over onto the floor. The restaurant had plenty of empty tables, but she chose a table right next to us. And then proceeded to complain that our food smelled like garlic. We observed them and realized with horror that she was the man's guide. He struggled to order his food, as the waitstaff did not speak English. She didn't even help him; she was too distracted by her smartphone. When their food came, the man's order was totally incorrect and she just ignored him. "Why won't you help me?" he asked her. Cuong was appalled. We said that this was just another example of how a guide can make or break a trip. How can you even compare the wonderful camaraderie that we shared with Cuong with the obvious contempt with which this woman treated her client? We once again made a mental note to be sure to tell Toni at Myths and Mountains how much we appreciated her recommending Cuong to us and setting us up with him. At 8:30, after having some fruit for dessert, we gathered our bags and walked across the parking lot to the train station. A porter wheeled our luggage over on a cart. Now that it was dark, the nearby buildings were aglow with neon. As we approached the platform, we could feel the rumble of engines. The railroad tracks here actually had three rails; a narrower gauge was laid by the French. Later a third, wider rail was added for compatibility with Chinese railroads. So today both types of cars can travel on one set of tracks. Cuong helped us to check in, and we said goodnight to him. Craig and I were shown to our cabin in one of the Victoria Express cars. These luxury cars were operated by the Victoria Sa Pa Hotel. This was our first time on an overnight train, and it felt like we were on the Orient Express from my favorite Agatha Christie mysteries from my youth. It felt very old-world posh. Toni had arranged for us to have a private 4-berth compartment (cabin 33: berths 34 and 36) all to ourselves. The top two berths were folded up, while the bottom berths were made up with a fluffy white duvet. A pair of slippers awaited each of us. The cabin was made of luxurious looking dark wood. We had a nice window, and a shelf where there were little night kits containing earplugs, a toothbrush, and small bottles of water. The conductor came in and introduced himself. He told us that there was a dining car and a bar car. The train offered pre-fixe meals as well as a la carte. The rest room at the end of our car would open as soon as the train started moving. He told us that we would arrive in Hanoi shortly after 5 a.m., and that he would wake us up about half an hour before that. We were torn. We had already eaten dinner, but a cocktail sounded nice. This was an exquisite train and we wanted to make some memories. But it had been a difficult day for Craig, and now that he was finally feeling better, we didn't want to push our luck. 4:30 a.m. would arrive quickly, and we decided that we should try to get as much sleep as we could. We may as well enjoy the private luxury cabin we were paying for. The train left the station at 9 p.m. I wrote in the journal and went to sleep shortly before 10 o'clock. The movement of the train rocked us both to sleep almost instantly. |
 Si Waterfall  Headwear of a Red Dao elder  Red Dao woman demonstrating their intricate embroidery  Cuong and a Red Dao elder on the marble slab road of Ta Phin  Red Dao baby  Mai La's house  Red Dao woman  Interior of Mai La's house  Mai La and her 8-year-old daughter  Walking with our local guides  Our Red Dao companions (Photo courtesy of Cuong)  Fairyism ritual in Lao Cai  Fairyism ritual in Lao Cai  On the Vietnamese side of the Chinese border in Lao Cai (Photo courtesy of Cuong)  Poster for our train at the Victoria Hotel  Cabin 33 on the Victoria Express from Lao Cai to Hanoi  Victoria Express from Lao Cai to Hanoi 
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