This past week has been a memorable one since we left the comfort of Hanoi and ventured into the mountains of northern Vietnam. This was to be our laststop in Vietnam, the little fresh-aired town of Sapa.
The adventure started when we arrived at the train station for our 9:50 P.M. overnight train from Hanoi to Sapa. We arrived at 9 and were quickly surrounded by about four Vietnamese men or “ticket sellers” who wanted our payment stub in exchange for an actual ticket. Unsure if they were legitimate, we hesitated and tried to ignore them, but we were soon ushered across the lot to the next train that was ready to leave. We walked and walked with our way-too-heavy backpacks til we arrived at the very last cabin.
“First class” said the ticket seller, and showed us to our four person/four bed room. There was already a family of four in there, with two screaming children, so we refused and said we’d get off and get on the later train we were supposed to be on. No no, go in this empty one, he said, and jumped off the trainjust as it started to move.
Next came the real ticket lady who insisted that the room we were in was not ours. We argued that indeed that was where the ticket man said to go, and we weren’t moving. After a third party Vietnamese-Spanish-English translation, we were told again to move. It was mostly for fun, but again, we refused. Then we were told that the police would be meeting us at the first stop, so we quickly scurried to our room.
A bumpy eight hours later we arrived in Sapa.
Eight dollars a night buys you bliss in this town above the clouds. We got a perfect little room with a balcony that sits nestled in the clouds. At the highest point in Sapa, you drive over a pass that is both the coldest and hottest part of Vietnam. We rode a motorbike up there and nearly froze. The temperature difference makes for some interesting cloud activity, and lightening high in the clouds each night. The clouds also moved really quickly, and you could watch them pass from the top of the valley to the bottom in a matter of a minute.
Sapa is famous for its trekking adventures through the minority villages. Most people get a minority person to take them to their village and pay them as a tour guide. We opted to do it on our own and interpret the map our own way. Perhaps a mistake, in a land where maps are very inacurate! We started what was supposed to be a four hour hike. Once we were headed towards Fanzipan, the highest mountain in Vietnam, we realized we really were lost. Right at the top of a peak the rain started to pour down as we had to turn around and try our luck on another path. I started swearing at Pete as he ran down the mountain trying to avoid the downpour. Right then I slipped and rolled down the mountain. I was scraped, wet, and pissed off. We found a little hut and huddled under the shed until the rain let up. Right before we made it there, I fell and rolled down the hill again. I nursed my bleeding legs and cursed the world while we waited.
Finally we were on the right course. We came upon some beautiful young Vietnamese minority boys who jumped the fence of their rice paddy to come look at us. We gave them some left over kiwi candies, and took some adorable photos.
Next we came to two littleboys sitting on a fallen bamboo tree trunk. Pete lifted the end of it so it acted like a teeter-totter, and the boys squealed
with laughter. Pete then tried to make it more fun, by lifting it further up in the air. Being unable to balance on the small tree, the smallest boy toppled off, landing on his head, and his older brother fell on top of him. Pete and I both shit ourselves as we pictured the minority gang coming after us, or worse, having to help this kid mend his broken head. Luckily, the little
dude just laughed his head off and jumped back on the tree. We loaded his hands with candy and took off up the hill.
We decided to rest at the top and eat our lunch. Soon we saw the boys in the distance speaking to the other village kids, probably saying that we were giving out candy. Soon we had a gang of nine kids surrounding us, hands out as I scrounged through my bag to see what tidbits I could come up with. We got some “Pulitzer shots” as Mike would say, then said our goodbyes. As we started our trek up the rest of the hill, we turned around to see eight little kids hiking up the hill behind us. Some were about six year old girls, carrying a two year old on their back. The amound of responsibility they get at such a young age is ridiculous.
We kept saying ’you go that way, we go this way’ but they’d just smile and shake their head. I think they were after money yet they never actually asked for it. They followed us for a good 45 minutes, trekking in their little plastic sandals. Soon Pete informed me that because we got lost, we were way behind schedule. Soon it would be dark, and we still didn’t know if we were on the right path. We broke into a trot and left the kids behind. The little boy that fell on his head was the only one that didn’t come…I think he went home to nurse his concussion!
We scrambled through bush and along creeks, and finally felt as though we were heading to the right valley that we recognized from the day before. I have to admit that being in such thick jungle with no extra clothing, no mosquito repellent, and no food or water left, I was really quite petrified. We passed a small make-shift shelter made from sticks that had an old firepit in it and we decided that that was where we would sleep if we didn’t make it back before dark. This was starting to get scary.
After literally running down the mountain, we came around the corner to the path we remembered. We high-fived and jumped into the river to cool off. On the way home we found a kitten, and like the other nine million cats we’ve run into, I felt the need to stop and give it some love. It meowed and jumped onto my stomach, then started to knead bread with it’s paws, and suckle on
my tank top! It was a little weird, but I loved it, so I let it keep going. It was clearly searching for a nipple, but I assured it that there was no milk to be had. It continued to suck, leaving a big slobber patch on my shirt.
After the beautiful town of Sapa, we were headed into Laos. Luang Prabang was a three day bus trip away which is completely horrible sounding, but atleat we knew what to expect. We were told that the roads were bad, and it’s a very winding road, so be prepared for car sickness.
We boarded the bus at the tourist info building. It was already more than half full so we squished in and tried to make ourselves comfortable. The spitting out the window by Vietnamese men every minute or so was really starting to get on my nerves. As was the nervous twitch or habit of the driver who would brush his hands through each side of his hair then do a snap with his right hand. Every 30 seconds. Very strange.
The first awful thing I saw was a motorbike drive by with two cages on top of each other on the back of the bike. In the top cage there were about 12 chickens, clearly on their way to the slaughter house. On the bottom were four regular sized dogs, squished in the tiny cage, all tangled around each other. I haven’t seen much dog meat on the menus, but I’ve heard it’s more
popular in the North and unfortunately that’s where we were. The look on one dog’s face in particular made my heart break in a million pieces. He just sat there, as if on his death bed, like there was nothing in the world that could help him now. He knew where he was going, while I tried to tell myself they were just transporting him to a new home. That was another day
that I hated Vietnam.
We drove out of Sapa and were soon on a gravel road, winding through the hills. There were pot holes, and dangerous conditions where we were literally inches from a cliff with no guard rails.
We stopped at 10:30 for lunch, and not again til we arrived at the first overnight destination at 6:30. We were dumped at Dien Bien Phu in a shit-hole of a city, with shit-holes for guesthouses. We also ate shit food.
The next morning we got on the bus at 5 am. Yes, 5 am. The bus was loaded with onions, meat, a live chicken and many other goodies! Those locals are crazy I tell you! The driver then felt the need to stop for breakfast 20 minutes after leaving the station. Again, we drove for hours without stopping, to the point that I was sitting in a pool of my own sweat, and so sore that I could’nt feel my lower body. Then the bus came to a slow pace, and the driver was hesitant to continue. When he finally did, we drove past a huge semi truck, with a dead body behind it, covered in plastic. The whole little village was crowded on the street and it was the most disturbing feeling you could imagine. It’s not uncommon to see that in Vietnam, mostly because there are so many motorbike accidents, but it’s still so shocking. Luckily, I didn’t look at it because I was wedged in the middle of a four-person row, so I only knew through hearsay.
We continued on down the road which was not really a road. At one point the bus got stuck and we all had to pull it out of a ditch. We finally arrived at the next overnight stop where we spent the night in another (possibly worse) guesthouse and ghostly town where pigs, cats, and dogs roamed around in the town’s garbage dump, smack in the middle of town.
The next morning we came to the Vietnam/Laos border. Everyone was getting their passports stamped and moving to the outside area. Of course when it was my turn, he looked through my passport several times, put it down without stamping it, and made a telephone call. Two Vietnamese border guards came and asked to speak to me. They took me upstairs and into the interrogation room. I was sure someone had planted drugs on me, because what else could it be!? He told me to sit down, and one spoke in Vietnamese
while the other translated for me. “When did you arrive in Vietnam? Where was your port of entry?” blah blah blah. I tried not to look scared shitless, but I dont think my stuttering helped. It turns out that because I had to renew my Canadian passport in HCM, the passport number I came in on doesn’t match the number in my passport now. Once he realized I wasn’t an illegal immigrant, he became very friendly and told me to drink more tea.
Meanwhile the bus was waiting for me, and I still felt so scared I couldn’t move. I think I now have a few more grey hairs. Good thing plucking grey hair in the park is a national passtime in Vietnam!
We finally arrived in Luang Prabang, thank the lord. It’s a beautiful little town, with a french influence which means crepes on every corner and food like we never experienced in Vietnam. We just ate dinner at the night market which was a buffet of Laos food that cost 10,000 kip ($1.50!)
And the Laos people are so friendly! They don’t haggle you at all which is a really nice change from Sapa where all you hear is “hello, you buy from me ok!”. They simply say “swasadee” (hello) and sit patiently, hoping you’ll buy something. This serene little town on the Mekong river with blossoming trees and swirling clouds is just what I needed after three days of bullshit
on a bus. Thank god for Luang Prabang!
