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.
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