South East Asia Adventure | Night train to Sapa

We are about a half hour into our return trip from Sapa and settled into our private cabin aboard the overnighter to Hanoi. Although I'm down to my silk long johns and wrapped in a quilt, with the four layers I'm still wearing--a merino wool undershirt, turtleneck t-shirt, my fleece and Margaret's new microfiber jacket—I'm finally warm. Clearly we left the warm weather behind us in HCMC. But we charmed the porter into two extra quilts for our beds so life is good!

Sapa is sometimes referred to as the misty city and I can certainly understand why. They might also want to call it the city of electric bedsheets. Without them, I think we might never have been warm. The hot steaming bath in a Red Yao (local ethnic) herbal concoction followed by a Vietnamese massage certainly helped to rid me of the chills, but it was shortlived. Maybe not Margaret though: she bought a down filled North Face jacket this morning at a reasonable knock-off price.

Yesterday was cold and wet. It was mostly a trekking day which is good because moving kept us from totally freezing. Our first stop was at the hillside home of a woman from the Black H'mong ethnic group who showed off her weaving and stitching. The sewing machine in her house looked like the same old treadle my mom used to have and the wooden loom had the makings of a small blanket in progress. A vat of blue indigo dye simmered outdoors next to her handicrafts, all of which we are told she made herself. Margaret came away with a hat that could very likely bleed blue into her hair. Next we stopped at an elementary school, painted the bright saffron colour of all government buildings, and decorated with colourful pictures, one of many we saw over the two days. The children were willing subjects for our photos! The classrooms,with open doors of course, were heated with wood burning fires at the front, and the children were practicing their letters in workbooks.

From there we moved on to Lao Chai village where we were greeted by six or more aggressive Red Yao women selling goods. The guide had warned us that they would swarm the vehicle, and they did, pressing me against the van to avert my escape. They followed us for about two kilometres, finally asking Hai if we would stop now and buy something so they could go back, presumably to ensnare some new victims. After two small purchases we pressed on to lunch which had been arranged at a beautiful homestay. The fire, coal in a shallow metal pan, was red hot, and we pulled up stools and huddled around, drinking tea and learning about the homestay until our lunch was ready. It was like those cold hiking days in the Rockies when you pull your toque down over your ears, rub your hands over the fire, and stick your boots up against the heat to try to warm your feet. We chanced a taste of the home made plum-flavoured rice wine, and ate a hearty fresh-cooked lunch of typical local dishes: chicken with lemon grass served on an iron hot plate, sweet potato fries with chile sauce for dipping (to die for !), stir-fried carrots and a type of cucumber we have yet to identify, spring rolls (nothing like what we have at home!), rice, and watermelon for dessert. Our hostess was an attractive Viet woman from Sapa who had opened up this traditional-looking but very modern homestay with sleeping room for 10-12 in the loft.

We continued our trek to Ta Van village, and then on to the car that sat waiting and warm. We ended the day with a steaming hot bath and massage, and a light dinner. The hotel staff had turned on our heater and the electric blanket, ensuring that it would be warm on our arrival. We crawled into our heated bed for a cozy night's sleep. The room never really warmed up so we spent most of the night in bed. Despite thinking of myself as a hardy Canadian girl, accustomed to cold bathroom floors and showers in out-of-the-way places, I cuddled under the quilt and watched a silly movie.

Today we drove up to the highest pass in Vietnam, the Heaven's Gate pass, then climbed up to the Silver Waterfall—so named I'm sure for the heavy mist and fog that shrouded it. The climb was warming: it got the circulation back in my toes. There was a roadside rest stop by the waterfall, and we sat around a fire with a local Viet girl, eating a roasted sweet potato dipped in salt and curry and drinking (more) tea. The girl was prepared for many guests; there were roasted chestnuts, corn on the cob, bamboo tubes stuffed with coconut rice, hard boiled eggs, and skewered meat all cooked and ready on the little fire and when you requested something she moved it over the coals and heated it up. We love the sweet potatoes. These are the yellow ones; not the orange yams I buy most often at home.

After a twisty-curvy drive back to town for our luggage we cruised through the local market, spread out over several levels, that introduced us to foods we've never seen and can't name. There were at least 20 different greens, local tiny strawberries (ooh I wanted to try some of those), meat, live fish from local fish farms, huge bags of herbs and remedies (none for the common cold though), mushrooms both fresh and dried, dried apricots, ginger, and pears, and almonds. And of course there were clothes and shoes, including the ubiquitous North Face knock offs.

Our last lunch in Sapa was at a Red Yao restaurant, very traditional in style, where we sampled some local cocktails (sweet) and again feasted on a hot grilled chicken dish, curried pork, stir fried vegetables, spring rolls, and rice. We enjoyed this restaurant because, in addition to the hot charcoal brazier fired up beside our table, there were a lot of local crafts on display. I especially liked the covered pillows and seat mats embroidered in traditional patterns, and the wall hangings. This afternoon we again walked through a valley, first through the sprawling Black H'mong village of Madra, observing the black covered low roofs over wooden bungalow-style homes, as we tiptoed our way through the muck. We ended our village visits in the Red Yao village of Ta Phin where again the local women managed to separate us from a few dollars. As we walked back to the van, I chatted with one of the women. She might have been 40, with warm brown skin, her smile showing off perfect teeth. She spoke excellent English and seemed to understand everything I said. She said she learned English from the tourists, but I don't think so. We talked about the hard work of the village women: sewing and selling the crafts, cooking, looking after the children, and in the summer working in the fields. She says it is hard work, and I think it must be so.

The train lurches and rocks continuously, and occasionally comes to an abrupt stop, for no apparent reason. This is a downhill trip so I think they have to break a lot! The bed is hard; the pillow a bit lame, but I do have two quilts. Small luxuries. I'm looking for my shoes which were recently cleaned just prior to boarding the train by local shoe-shiners so that I can make the trek down the hall to the bathroom. Unfortunately they didn't offer to clean my pants, so they are hanging over my suitcase covered in muck which I'm hoping by tomorrow will have dried. I guess I'll have to put them on. Margaret has already turned in for the night but I doubt there will be much sleep for me. I have a good book and some good music on my iPod. We are due in to Hanoi at 430 am, and at 7 am we leave for Halong Bay. The hotel will give us breakfast, and there is a comfortable lounge area and bathroom with shower available for our use. Heaven awaits.