Scenes of Sapa

After a delightful viewing of traditional Vietnamese theater on Thursday evening (including a scene called "Lion Giving Birth," as seen in the photo above), I was probably crazy for jumping on an overnight train for a ten-hour joyride from Hanoi to the mountain region of Sapa, near the Chinese border. Hadn't I learned my lesson about trains from South Africa? I guess not! But, a three-day weekend calls for exploration, so I braced myself for a sleepless night and constant pestering from fellow passengers. However, I was pleasantly surprised to see how comfortable the arrangement was, especially considering my recent terrifying experience with the Hanoi bus system.

On Thursday morning, I took bus 18 to school like usual. However, on this fateful day, as I was lost in a morning daze, I felt the bus jerking back and forth violently. When I was fully alert, I noticed that the bus driver was playing "cat and mouse" with a poor fellow on a motorbike. Even though the man on the bike was trying to move out of the bus' path, the bus would swerve closer to him, inches from collision, then jam on the breaks. Finally, the bus driver tricked the motorcyclist to move to the right side of the road. Then, the driver swung a wide turn to the right, trapping the biker against the curb and crashing into him! I was absolutely horrified at what had happened. I quickly exited the bus, thankful to see that the man on the motorbike was able to stand, with only a small limp. The driver pulled into the bus parking lot (right next to where the incident occured). As he got out of the bus for his five minute break at the end of the line, he was completely unphased by the fact that he nearly killed someone. A female passenger with us, who also exited the bus, began yelling at him in Vietnamese. I sure would have too had I known that kind of vocabulary! As the woman left, the injured biker walked up to the driver and they started yelling back and forth. Suddenly, the clearly unstable bus driver grabbed the biker's helmet and started beating him with it. Punches were thrown. People tried to pull them apart, but the bus driver got ahold of a broomstick and once again, began beating the motorbike driver. When things finally settled down, I was still shaken from the event. The most upsetting part of all of this is that the bus driver will not lose his job because of what happened. His supervisor saw what occured, yet the very same driver was allowed to continue driving the route to my school. I wisely decided to call a cab for the rest of the way. Anyhow, I was happy to put this unfortunate experience behind me and enjoy a more uplifting mode of transportation.

On the train to Sapa, I traveled with my friends, Cate, Winny, Marian, and Diane. We all shared a small sleeping compartment with six beds. Our only other companion was a man on his way home to China, which worked out really well since Winny speaks Mandarin. We ended up realizing that each of us spoke a different language and that, if need be, we could get around in Spanish, French, Haitian Creole, Mandarin, or German. Unfortunately, that great resume of skills does not include proficiency in Vietnamese...

On the top bunk, there was about a foot and a half between my bed and the ceiling. That's not a ton of breathing space! The bunks in the train are clearly not made for American-sized people, but I made it work and ended up sleeping rather comfortably, despite the sweltering heat due to a broken AC vent. At 4am, we arrived at Lao Cai. From there, we caught a shuttle for an hour-long winding drive to Sapa. When we finally arrived, we took a look around at the beautiful, misty mountain village. However, we were so tired that all five of us took a four hour nap in the hotel bed before moving on to our daily activities.

Once we woke up, we prepared for a six kilometer hike along the terraced mountains. The mountains are cut in this way so that agriculture is possible on the steep terrain. Our path linked several small villages where local minority people live, including the Black Hmong people and the Red Dao people. These minority groups still wear their traditional clothing. The women are famous for their handicrafts and sew incredibly beautiful, brightly-colored blankets and cloths. The men tend the crops and rice paddies, but some also make silver jewelry. As I hiked through the village, I saw three year old children carrying bamboo sticks on their backs from the nearby forest and many women followed us, hoping we'd buy some of their trinkets. Our fourteen year old tourguide, named Lala, showed us the ins and outs of her village, Lau Chai. We took a picture with her at the beginning of our hike! Here, children attend school until they are ten and work hard at home. Buffalo roam the hillsides and dogs are everywhere. Marriages are arranged by the parents and men must pay a bride price for their future wives. The women's earlobes are stretched from the many pieces of handmade silver jewelry in their ears and their teeth are blackened. They wear black cloth tops with wide sleeves and black skirts and pants. Red, blue, yellow, green, and white, thread is embroidered in patterns on their traditional clothing. Depending on their tribe, they wear either a small black cap or a larger red headress. Our hike was breathtaking in so many ways. I never expected I would have the opportunity to see this neglected part of the world, but at the same time, I never expected it to be this beautifully enchanting! I worry that tourism has a negative effect on the population, but Lala ensured me that the people in Sapa love the tourists because they generate their only form of income.

The next day, we went to the Saturday market where busy stalls and street vendors littered the town. My bargaining skills have sharpened since I've been living in Hanoi, so I knew exactly how to work the vendors for a desirable price. Besides browsing through skirts, blankets, bracelets and unusual musical instruments throughout the colorful marketplace, I decided to get a 45 minute foot massage for a total of four dollars. This was a comparative study - does a Vietnamese foot massage hurt more or less than a Chinese foot massage? Considering my history with Chinese foot massages, I expected it couldn't be worse. I still winced in pain a number of times (even though Cate didn't think it hurt at all), but overall it was pretty enjoyable. My conclusion is that it's not the foot massage, it's me.

I didn't spend nearly enough time in Sapa, in my opinion. But, by Saturday night, school work was calling my name. I hopped back on the overnight train and arrived in Hanoi at my host family's doorstep by 5am. I spent today lounging in the house, socializing with my host family, reading, and writing this blog. My roommate, Akinyi, spent the weekend in Ho Chi Minh City. Akinyi follows a strictly vegan diet, so while she was gone, my host family took every opportunity to serve me shocking cuisine. At lunch, I literally stared at a chicken foot, talons included, floating in my soup. In Vietnam, it is common for someone to uninvitedly drop food in your bowl. My host dad plopped the leg in right on top of my rice and told me, "This is Vietnamese chicken, not European chicken. It is high quality." I was not convinced. I managed to manuever around the leg for the rest of the meal. For dinner, guess what was served? Pig heart. I am not joking. But, because I had already had my fill of rice for the day, and I had chosen to neglect the chicket foot at lunch, I felt it was my duty to eat it. After a few nibbles, I was done, but the experience will last a lifetime. I guess I shouldn't be so shocked. In restaurants, there are frequently dishes like dog, pigeon, turtle, frog, ostrich, and eel on the menu. I have even heard stories from fellow IHPers that their host family served them a baby chick, eyeballs, beak, and all! So, I am thankful I only got pig heart.

I have one more week in Hanoi, I can't believe how time flies. Next week, I will be living in a rural homestay in the Mai Chau Valley region. More updates to come!