Sapa

After an overnight train I arrived in Sapa, where I enjoyed my best coffee and omelette breakfast in Vietnam while I waited for the morning fog to burn off, as the internet promised me sun in Sapa! Oh, the horror: the fog seemed not only impenetrable, but increasingly so. In denial, I set off on a hill tribe hike with a local female guide and member of the black hmong tribe, Chi.

Chi is my age, has two toddlers, and married at the age of 30, quite late in the sapa hills.  Already I liked her! She probably stood at 4'11", but was quick-footed and strong on the muddy paths we walked through the rice fields.  At lunch I ran into 3 hilarious ozzie women who would become my homestay pals!   Because family members were joining to celebrate the official end of Tet (?!), an extravagant meal was prepared by our host.  The fried pork and minty herbs dipped in spicy fish sauce were divine!

Unbelievably, the next day was even foggier, so the four of us decided to attend a local harvest festival instead of trek onward. Chi brought one of her traditional outfits for me to wear, and after squeezing into the tiny jacket, we headed to the festival, where numerous local women giggled to see my trekking pants sticking out below the traditional velvet pants.  I admit I felt like a giant wearing kid's clothes!

At the festival, we saw games, the most popular of which was to catch a goat while blindfolded.  After minutes of scanning the crowd for volunteers, the host found an American woman who climbed into the pen after mistakenly thinking the goat would be the blindfolded one! Don't worry, mom, that girl wasn't me: I know too much about angry goats and rural medicine for that misadventure.

Such foggy adventures coupled with such cultural fun have made me a believer in the homestay and the local guide, as without them I fear Sapa would have been ho-hum at best. Thanks Chi, Rosie, Razz, and Georgia!