A Vietnam less travelled

Sapa wasn’t really on my itinerary when I first crossed the border from Cambodia into Vietnam. I started my journey in Vietnam from the south at the Mekong Delta, and slowly snaked my way up the beaten trail of Nha Trang, Hoi An and Hue that culminates in Ha Noi. This was the northernmost I had planned to be, and floating on the iconic Halong Bay with its stunning limestone rocks jutting out of blue waters, I thought I had seen all that Vietnam had to offer. But that was only until Mac mentioned Sapa.

Over the hill
The mountainous region of Sapa crowns Vietnam, with a main town also by the name of Sapa at its heart, and several villages across the valley inhabited mainly by ethnic minorities. The key hill tribe that forms more than half of this population is that of the Black Hmong people who roam the streets of Sapa town selling trinkets and souvenirs. The other large community is the unmistakable Red Dzao with their crimson head wraps resting on semi-bald heads and the smaller minorities, Tay, Giay and a small number of Xa Pho. My local friend Mac’s wondrous introduction of Sapa caught my fancy, and I soon found myself on an overnight train to Lao Cai from where Sapa is an hour away by road.

I wouldn’t otherwise choose to stay at a place called ‘Darling Hotel’, but the tranquil location helped me pick it up. Plus, it seemed to be a preferred hotel of Vietnamese holiday-goers, and I was done with staying in the periphery of urbane, English-speaking travellers. I wanted to hear the babble of native sounds that’s music to my wanderer’s ears. I decided to explore the area the way it is best explored — on foot.

Starting with the town, I went up the Hamrong hill to get a glimpse of the country’s highest mountain Fansipan, also dubbed the ‘Roof of Indochina’. The hill is swathed by a well-preserved area, and without a map, one can get lost in its meandering stone pathways that lead to stunning viewpoints and natural forests dappled with cultivations of exotic flowers.

Girls in gumboots
As I sat at the baguette shop and sipped my coffee, a young girl in shorts and a tee skipped towards my table and introduced herself as Shu. Mac had told me that she was a Hmong girl who ran treks, but nothing more. The more Shu narrated her story, the more my pupils widened with amazement. Here was a self-assured, young girl who had had an incredible metamorphosis from a tribal child selling knick-knacks to this dazzling diva of empowerment.

Barely 25, Shu started going to school only two years ago, but she runs a Hmong community support centre, Sapa O’ Chau, that aims to educate children and empower young Hmong women and provide gainful employment for them by training them to be trekking guides. I watched incredulously as she dished out perfectly formed English and French words, all picked up from her interactions with tourists to whom she sold charms as a child. By the end of our interactions, the deal had been struck. Shu’s sister Su would be my guide for the trek the following day.

Early next morning, I set off with Su and her friend, also called Su, for a trek that started with heavy downpour, so typical of Sapa where the moderate climate is rainy and foggy in the warmer months though only for short spells. Almost magically, a pair of gumboots was produced by the bright girls and I nearly clapped my hands in delight. We skidded, laughed and waddled down near-vertical muddy slopes, and I was astounded by the strength and agility of these small-framed women who also surprised me with their spontaneity. And all this in none of the progressive trekking gear that I had but in their beautiful traditional black dresses, elaborately done hair pinned with silver metal combs, heads adorned with circular black hats, the trademark giant earrings and ordinary rubber slippers!

Equally surprising was watching men and women planting rice in the paddy fields imperturbably while the surge slapped their backs. We crossed the village with the endearing name of Cat Cat, and then Y Linh Ho, to reach the Hmong village of Lao Chai where the girls hailed from. The last stop was the village of Ta Van where my trek ended with the sunset.

On my last day in Sapa, I ventured into the heart of the territory of the elusive but gorgeous Red Dzao people. The village of Ta Phil is their land, and as I got off the taxi, I was enveloped in a flush of crimson. Women of all ages clambered in their robes of red, some even cradling babies dressed in little red clothes. I went around the village with the bunch, answering questions they asked in halting English and buying some of their intricate embroidery work. As I bid goodbye to these women, the ubiquitous conical hats of Vietnam had become a distant memory in my mind, for black hats and red wraps had taken their place.