~ Le Viêt Nam, aujourd'hui. ~
The Vietnam News

[Year 1997]
[Year 1998]
[Year 1999]
[Year 2000]
[Year 2001]

Hospitality in the hills

SAPA - It's not been a god week in Nam Toong village. Sitting around an open fire sipping hot tea from chipped cups, the Dao farmer explains that the local medicine woman has passed away and a killer disease is stalking his pigs: Over a dozen have already died. "What do you do with the dead pigs?" I ask. "Eat them," comes the reply. This journey through the mountains around Sapa is fast turning out to be part socio-economic learning curve, part cultural-exchange programme. Sapa, a former French hill resort 350 kilometres northwest of Hanoi, is one of Vietnam's top destinations thanks to its lush mountain scenery and the minority groups who call the area home. Most visitors come on weekend tours from Hanoi, but if you want to learn about minority culture and everyday life in these hills it's well worth making the effort to go on a locally organized trek. Our guide is Tran Quang Thang, one of the most popular and knowledgeable, who speaks four minority languages. More importantly, he has the invaluable ability to effortlessly bridge the cultural gulf between his Western charges and the minority people we meet along the way.

In Lao Chai, a Black Hmong village some 10 kilometres from Sapa, we visit a farmer desperate to raise the money needed to marry off his eldest son. The Black Hmong (so called for their indigo-dyed dress) are the biggest ethnic group in the region--and one of the poorest. Despite the friendliness and dignity of the Hmong, it's a depressing place, if for no other reason than the sight of tourists in conical hats taking photos of malnourished kids in tattered clothes. Things improve further out into the countryside. We follow footpaths that thread along paddy walls lined with powder-blue wildflowers, pausing to wade across a thigh-deep river. Everyday life hums around us: Men bearing nets and long spears fish the river while the hillsides are dotted with groups of Hmong and Dao women wielding hoes. "They are clearing land to grow corn," explains Thang. Unfortunately, their slash-and-burn techniques--a leftover from nomadic days--are also having a devastating impact on local forests.

The first night is spent in a home-stay in Ban Ho, a Tay village. The Tay are noticeably wealthier than the Hmong and Dao--and quicker to embrace new ideas: "They have fewer children and believe in education," says Thang. Our host has spent the day trying to make "wine" out of pumpkin, which has Thang in hysterics: "I don't think it's possible. I've never heard of it!" Making booze is an obsession in these hills and rare is the village without at least one still--usually a hose languidly dripping liquid into a drum. Trekkers with bottled water don't need to worry about what to do with their empties--locals gladly take them to store their wine. I discover that Thang also takes guests up nearby Fansipan mountain--at 3,143 metres, Vietnam's highest peak. "If it's good weather, it's very beautiful. But if it rains, it's horrible," he says. "If you're going up in the morning and it's raining in the night, you feel sick lying in your bed just thinking about it."

At Nam Toong village we visit a Dao family. The men and boys entertain us in the front room; the women tend to the cooking pots in the back. Like the Hmong, the Dao are known for their distinctive dress--the women, in particular, sport enormous red head-dresses over waxed foreheads. Unlike the Hmong, they have a written language. Two dog-eared books hang from the wall, consulted for everything from when to build a house to whom to marry. Offered my birth date, our host studies the books and informs me I would do well in pig farming, should beware of water and in four months' time will have "a very lucky month." "It is 95% accurate," he says.

Our second night is spent in Thanh Phu, another Tay village (the Tays seem to have cornered the market in home-stays). The front room is full of disembowelled radios: Our host, Vien, went to Hanoi recently to study electronics and is now the village repairman. Over a delicious dinner of sautéed tofu, soup and beef fried with chilli, Vien explains that it took him eight years to gather the wood for his house, but only one day to build it. We learn about the Great Fire of 1982, when half the village burnt down, and that there is a haunted grove full of fruit trees nearby; if you go with a piece of fruit in your pocket you'll never find your way back. "No one goes there anymore, with or without fruit," says Vien gravely. Perhaps the best part of the trek is that, away from crowded Sapa, we didn't feel like visitors at some human zoo. Instead we, too, were objects of curiosity. More importantly, conversations could develop beyond "where are you from?"

Facilities are basic but comfortable, and the trekking itself is fairly easy, covering about 15 kilometres a day. Having a knowledgeable local guide is crucial, while being part of a small group helps minimize visitors' impact, unlike the tours that descend on villages by the busload. Best of all, it's all done against the backdrop of Sapa's stunning mountain scenery.

Factfile

In Sapa, contact the Cha Pa Cafe and Tours (Tel: 20 871 245; e-mail: chapatour@fpt.vn) to arrange two- to four-day mountain treks. Prices start at about $12 per person per day.

In Hanoi, T.F. Handspan (Tel: 4 828 1996; e-mail: tfhandspn@hn.vnn.vn; www.handspan.com) can also organize tours, including transport to Sapa, starting at around $90 per person.

Sapa, a booklet edited by Leigh Stubblefield, offers good general information on everything from local birds and mammals to a glossary of minority languages. It also includes maps detailing do-it-yourself one-day treks and is available in shops in Sapa town.

Sapa's top local hotel is the Victoria Sapa (Tel: 20 871 522; e-mail: victoriasapa@fpt.vn) with double rooms from $82. For local character and local prices try the friendly Cat Cat Guesthouse (Tel: 20 871 387).

By Katherine Tanko - The Far Eastern Economic Review - August 16, 2001.