The peaceful houses and simple life of the ethnic people, arranged together in attractive beauty which can’t be found in any other place…
When the night train arrives in Lao Cai at 5 am, all the noise and bustle wakes us up. Our group hadn’t been able to sleep soundly, so on hearing the alarm we jump up and gather our baggage to leave the train. Lao Cai welcomes us warmly in the cold atmosphere of the early winter. At the station there are many domestic and foreign tourists, as in the Nancy night market in Ho Chi Minh City.2
The twelve-seat tourist mini-bus belonging to Sapa Gold Sea
picks us up at the station gate. They are efficient and professional,
helping us to carry our baggage to the car. We then head off for Sapa.
After driving 30 km on winding paths in the early fog, we arrive in
Sapa. It’s nearly 9am but the town is still covered with fog, evoking
in us a strong desire to explore all the hidden mysteries. The fog and
the cold atmosphere bring a homely and comfortable atmosphere to the
place. After checking in at the hotel, we forget all our tiredness and
gather to choose the first port of call. My friends chatter noisily,
all of them eager to explore this famous and romantic town. Finally
they agree on their priority destinations.
I lived previously in Sapa for a time, and had also driven through the
place a few times. I used to stroll about in the villages here and
drink wine in the evenings, eating roast sweet potatoes and hot eggs.
So this time I wouldn’t accompany my friends, but instead take away on
my own through the familiar streets. The sunlight of early winter
gradually dispels the fog, opening up the town to closer scrutiny. The
sunlight shines through the rows of sa moc trees lining streets. Many
tourists wander about on the streets.
I wander around, looking at church and at the young H’mong girls and boys walking hand in hand to the love market. The Sapa scenery hasn’t changed much since the time I lived there, except that there are many more hotels, more tourists and more local souvenir sellers. H’mong girls now use mobile phones. They gather together to send messages or act as professional guides for foreigners, introducing them to the beauties of Sapa. Native children chat away in their few English sentences, inviting tourists to buy their brocade bracelets or embroidered bags. Nowadays, Sapa is modern and has a well developed tourist industry. Wandering the narrow streets, I find a place where I can hire a Minsk motorbike from a H’mong man. He works as a courier near the market. He enthusiastically shows me how to use it. I repeated nod my head, as an obedient child would. But he is anxious, feeling that I won’t be able to drive the Minsk. He asks me to let him drive. It will only cost 15,000 VND per hour- the same price for hiring a motorbike. Seeing his concern for his bike, I nearly burst out laughing. If he knew that I had driven an even older motorbike to the far Northwest, what would he think?
Riding on that motorbike, alone, I drive straight to Thac Bac ( Silver
Waterfall ). Two years before I, together with my motorbike group, had
passed through Sapa and stopped at the Silver Waterfall. There we had
warmed ourselves and eaten roast sweet potatoes and bamboo tube rice at
the stall of Vu A May, a seventeen year old girl. Mountain tribes use
bamboo tubes as a cooking vessel. After the rice is cooked, the
bamboo-tube is broken open to remove the contents. I wonder if that
stall still exists? I drive along, absorbed in reliving the memory and
nearly drive into the drain alongside the road! Luckily the Minsk motorbike runs along very smoothly.
The Silver Waterfall is 11 km away from Sapa. It is a tourist
attraction in Sapa. From a distance, I can hear the sound of water
cascading down. Many tourists climb up to the waterfall to take photos.
I go to look for restaurant still exists but I don’t see May. Perhaps
she has got married. The last time I saw her she said she had fallen in
love with a Kinh man.
The Silver Waterfall is picturesquely situated on the edge of the
mountain overlooking spectacular Hoang Lien mountain range. I think of
a day in Da Lat, when I heard the tune:
“ Magnificent Langbiang mountain,
Gentle Cam Ly waterfall”
This description recalls the picturesque scene before me at the waterfall.
Leaving the Silver Waterfall, I return to Sapa and drive to the small Cat Cat village of the H’mong people near the outskirts of the town. There I find my way to Vang A Pao’s house, who guided me up Fansipan three years before in the winter. Pao is not at home. His son says he has gone to the terraced fields. I remember that it is the season of cardamom fruit, the main source of income the H’mong people living on Hoang Lien mountain range.
Sapa - Catcat - Laochai - Tavan -Giang TaChai Village
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