Jan 31. 15:30
Wrote this but could not send it when I was in Sapa
After arriving Hanoi got picked up and taken to the
Victoria Orient Express. Trains do not, I suspect get
much better than this. I upgraded to a private cabin
and had enough space to live well. Mostly French on
the train with the Victoria staff speaking both French
and English.
The bed was a fine feather coverlet, warm enough for
the ride up North. Sa Pa is not far from the Chinese
border and is in the mountains, read cooler to colder.
Does not get much better. Plugged into the iPod,
Beethoven 4th and 9th (great Ode on the Von Karian
version) and watched small villages melt away as I
dozed off.
Coffee served in the am. Toilet spotless and about
the same size as mine at home. Modern, with even a
handheld 'douce'.
After getting off the train onto a small mini van for
the 30km ride up to Sa Pa. Up meaning climbing about
5000 feet to this mile high local. Wonderful misty am
as we embarked around 7 am. As we got up higher the
mist lifted and found a beautiful bright cool sunny
day. Passed houses much newer and bigger than in
the Mekong. Temperate trees on one side and banana on
the other. Probably about 50 degrees.
Had breakfast and then took a walk around Sa Pa. Sat
a while by the lake and just took in the beauty.
Mountains all around. Somewhat sleepy town, charming,
quiet, modern (eight years ago one small hotel, now
167 I am told but they blend in nicely) built in
colonial style with the colors of Provance.
As I walked the markets found it hard to browse. The
local H'Moung are very aggressive. "Buy from me, buy
from me" and every shop puts pressure. Cannot just
look up close. Lots of very nice and colorful fabrics
and cloths for sale. Just have no need for more
'stuff'.
The people look more like the Han Chinese or those
from Tibet. One of the locals told me that when he
goes to the South he is not taken for being
Vietnamese.
Wonderful walking or trekking area. Steep hills and
local town is like walking around San Francisco.
Something to see with each turn of the head.
Dinner with the International Yellow Camimilia Society.
Helped an 88 year old with his email and later that evening he and party invited me to join then for dinner. Betty (90 and a real grande dame immediately asked me if minded taking off my hat – it was not a question).
These folks are part of a large international society (see their web site) that meets reguluarly around the world for congresses on Yellow Cammilias. Apart from a genuine interest in the flowers they all like to travel.
John, and Englishman who lives in a covered wagon in the UK – litterally as I saw pictures – is retired and takes jobs teaching English in China. He started when he suggested it to his daughter and she scoffed. 10 years later he has lots of good stories and is a genuine character in the best way.
After a pleasant but not especially good set menu dinner and a long conversation the elders started to fade.
Morning was a ride to Lao Cai and then off to a local 'market' of the Tay and H'Moung people. To call this a road is to call a dirt road a super six lane highway. Maybe a bit of dynamite and a pass with a bulldozer when the road was wet so that the rocks would set.
The market is held weekly. Excellent photos I believe. A real local market of ethnic minorities in local dress. A few tourists but not many.
Did some purchasing of oranges and sundries just to be part of the game. Bargained them way down (Sara would have been proud of me until I then paid them more than they had originally asked and watched them discuss it among themselves. Agreed to accept my ignorance or munificance or stupidity – who knows).
To avoid the rough ride back we took a boat for 60 minutes down a tributary of the red river. Looks very similar to how the Colorado cut the Grand Canyon. Smaller but still a grand scale. The tour company will soon do kayak trips down river.
Spent an hour wandering a rural village. Very different in architecture (high rooms, two levels, wood of good quality with a full absence of tile, livestock downstairs, along with the ubiquitious TV set).
Ran into a tourist who was in my entering class at Harpur College – Summer of 1963. A class of 200 students. Neither of us remembered the other and had no persons in commen – Lois studied French. Was definitely there when I was.
Drove to the Chinese border, on the other side of the Red River in Lao Cai.
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