Acting Like A H'mong

Waking up at 4am is never something I look forward to.  As the train pulled in to the station at Lao Cai, I fell out of my bunk and got my things together as quickly as I could while the last vestiges of sleep receded.  No sooner had I exited my cabin than I was approached by a tout wanting to know if I needed a mini-bus.  As my final destination was still a further 90 minutes away, I told him that I did.  500,000 Dong, was his reply.  My response was something not to be written here.  Fighting my way off the train and out of the reach of would-be assailants, I managed to convey that I would only take the mini-bus for 40,000 Dong ($2).  After a protracted stand-off, the guy finally relented and I got my wish.  "Don't tell the others, though," he whispered in my ear.  "You get a good price."  Needless to say, every other traveller I met went through the same routine and everyone pretty much paid the same price - or at least said they did for fear of admitting they had been scammed.  This little scene would be something I would witness being played out many times over the next two days.

Sa Pa, a mountain village in the northernmost reaches of Vietnam and close to the border with China, was were I had retreated to after the urban beginning to my trip.  The region is home to a variety of tribes, most notably the Black H'mong and the Red Dzao, and relies on the growth of rice for its economy.  Although nothing special in itself, Sa Pa is surrounded by breathtaking scenery and an abundance of opportunities to get your walking boots on.

But before I could get to that bit I first had to negotiate my alighting from the mini-bus.  Almost immediately upon opening the door, the high, piercing screams of about 15 female Black H'mong members shattered the early morning silence.  Both girls and older women alike took it in turns to approach the passengers and give their best Knights who say "ni" impressions.  "You very handsome" and "You buy for me" being their particularly favourite catchphrases.  Over and over and over and over again.  I had read that the women of the H'mong tribes were silver tongued traders, but the only thing I wanted to do was punch them in the face.  Luckily for them, I don't hit women.  Besides, there were a lot of them and some of them, although tiny, looked like they could eat me for breakfast!  I reminded myself, though, that these were people just trying to make a living and that I shouldn't be too harsh.  Even at 6am in the morning.

I was only going to spend one night in the village before embarking upon another night train journey back to Hanoi, so that left me with two full days to explore the vicinity.  After checking in at a hostel (with some pretty fine views) and having a little nap to clear the last of my tiredness, I set about finding a place to get breakfast.  I had heard that the cuisine of the mountain people was something to behold.  Unfortunately, little Sa Pa has well and truly arrived on the tourist trail and the village is littered with poor quality western-style restaurants  It took a bit of digging around to find something subtler.

"Ni... Ni..."

For the next two days I spent my time hiking through the countryside and exploring the neighbouring villages.  This involved a lot of time among the rice terraces and watching the workers (almost always women) going about their business.  Three times a year, the rice is harvested and eventually exported all around the world.  Even out here, though, I still couldn't shake those damned 'Knights.'

Overall, the trip to the mountains had been well worth the journey.  The last time I had explored rice terraces, it had been in China and although incredibly impressive, the poor weather had affected visibility.  In Sa Pa, however, the sun was shining and the views were incredible.  The only downside was the incessant hawking of wares and tat.  I do understand the need to make a living, but the super aggressive methods employed there probably puts off more potential customers than it attracts.  Even as my mini-bus pulled away from the village, I could still hear the wailing rise as another mini-bus full of possibilities approached.