Sapa - The San Francisco of Rural Northern Vientam

Sapa is the small highland town outside of Hanoi- by 10 hours- that many people go to for the beautiful mountainside terraces and hillside minority villages. After the overnight train, we arrived early in the morning and set up shop in a great 10 dollar room overlooking the valley, they assured us. The fog was abundant in the morning and you couldn't see the next house, but we embarked on a well-deserved nap with the asperations of view. It delivered.

The town is kind of like San Francisco without the city or bay - lots of fog and hills. It is sprinkled liberally with elaborately dressed Hmong women selling hand-stitched crafts from their basket backpacks, who all recite the following script:
-What is your name? (Ahh, beautiful name!)
- Where you from? (Ahh, America!)
- How old you? (So young!)
- How many brother sister you have? (oh.)
- You buy from me? (Later you buy from me? very cheap. good price. you buy from me.)

Therefore, we wandered around town muttering over and over, "Kate...America...26...One...No, thank you." It was kind of hilarious, the predictability.

We went for a two day-one night trek into the hills, which was originally going to be with 5 people but the 3 frenchies decided on a separate French guide, so we headed down the trail with our Hmong guide, Mei, and her posse of 5 selling things ladies. Mei is 26, like us. She got married at 15 and has 2 kids and taught herself English when her father died and they needed money. She never went to school and cannot read, but speaks very good English, some french, fluent Hmong and Vietnamese. She is deathly afraid of the water but hikes mountains in plastic shower shoes. She made us feel very tall.

The first part of our trek included lots of questions about our (fictitious but amazingly handsome) boyfriends and the making of flower crowns by our guides for the amusement of the whities. The fog lifted and the steep terraced rice fields of the Sapa valley became visible as we marveled and the ladies giggled and tended to the babies strapped to their backs. We had lunch in a very popular little Hmong village and hiked on through the afternoon, passing water buffalo and shy children. We stopped for the night in our "homestay" - which was a local restaurant/bar/bunk house. We happened to catch the tide of pre-teens leaving school and spend a hilarious hour chatting with a bunch of 12 year old Hmong girls, who tried on our sunglasses and territorially laid claim to us as we entered the town.

We shared the bunkhouse with 5 French travelers, which made Kate the resident translator and allowed Kyle to use her three phrases of French ("Maitenant! Tout Les Temps! Avec Moi!"). For you Oregonians, we met the French Mad Dog (aka La Chien Foulles - Kyle is bilingual now) and watches as children were alternately scared and amazed by her Mohawk and many piercings. We were given some rice whiskey to try out, which after the 4th or 5th shot really grows on you. The chilly weather of Sapa made for great sleeping, and we awoke to banana crepes and godawful Russian instant coffee - and, appropriately, lots and lots of fog.

Mee's brother was getting married on our second day, so we opted to forego the traditional hike in favor of a visit to her family's house and a glimpse of the wedding. The wedding seemed to be about everyone packed into a small house, singing on a small PA system and eating a big lunch of roasted pig. Her brother and his wife-to-be (both 17) looked incredibly young to us but the people crowding the rafters and doorways of the small house didn't seem phased. Much talking in a language we had no chance of understanding was the main activity; there was also a lot of cooking and tea drinking.

We finished our hike through more rice fields and bamboo forest, returning to Sapa in a jeep that clearly had its origins in some war we all feel it is best to forget. Manual windshield wipers in a seriously rainy climate with hazardous road conditions are an exciting combination. We arrived in town just in time for showers before getting on the minibus to Lao Cai and the overnight train to Hanoi. Luckily for us, the trip back was uneventful, although the dozen or so people sleeping and smoking in the train corridor were new.

We are now camped out in a hotel (not a hostel!), awaiting the arrival of Kyle's parents, who will surely take this trip up a notch in the good eats and sleeps department (as well as conversation and knowledge of goings on in the outside world). This is us killing time. We walked around the lake in the old quarter and watched many people stretch in an 80s fitness trend type manner and play badminton with serious focus. Kate got a haircut and Kyle served as very knoweldgable hair consultant, with positive results.