Like everybody else who lives in Hanoi, we went to Sapa for one main reason: to get out of Hanoi. As charming as it may be, the time just before Tet is an impossible time to be here. Cars stream into the city to deliver Tet essentials and drivers – generally a crazy lot – outdo themselves in zeal of folly. Also, more cars means more pollution. This is a problem the Central Committee is going to deal with one of these days, but just before Tet it is totally out of control.

Sapa is in the North Western mountains just a hop, skip and a jump from the Chinese border. We were warned that up there it is wet and cold and so we reserved our room, with fireplace, from Hanoi. The train to Lao Cai is an overnight sleeper: ten hours of slow movement and the chugging music of the rails. Leaving Hanoi the train creeps slowly through the centre of the city and from the windows of your compartment you can look at leisure into the living rooms and kitchens of the people living on the tracks. In the morning when you wake up the train is in gentle hills caressed by terraced rice paddies.

Sapa is indeed cold. But that’s only because there’s no sun. There’s no sun because the city is placed in a unique place where the fog and mist and clouds just love to congregate. Our first day there was glorious, but the rest of our time in Sapa made me wonder why anyone would build a city just there. Indeed, on our last day we went for a walk in the hills and overlooking the pass that leads into Sapa we could clearly see the clouds moving in. The monster that ate Sapa. Ten minutes out of town we were in sunshine and the people of Sapa were in the clouds.

People go to Sapa for the scenery and also to see and share in the lives of the ethnic minorities. The Saturday market in Sapa is (what we in the Sixties used to call) a gathering of the tribes. People from every group come to market to buy, sell and just hang out. Every minority has its own distinctive dress. I think that what really got to me was the perfect sameness of everyone. If you were a H’mong, you dressed like a H’Mong and like nothing else. If you were a Dzao you were a Dzao all the way, from your first cigarette to your last dying day. No dashes of colour, no touches of “I am”.

It’s a great place to trek around and visit the villages. Our trek was on Tet and so we had the honour of a whole pig killed just for us. The earthen-floor house was dark and so we could barely make out what was being served – ears, intestines, balls? – but it was all pretty disgusting. What made up for it and filled our bellies was that we had all the rice wine we could drink. One thing that must be said for the H’Mong and Dzao peoples is that they are totally friendly. At no point did anyone ever give us a ‘not one of us’ glance. It is true that we tourists are the economic mainstay of the region but this alone can not explain their acceptance of foreigners at face value.



Recommendations:

The Cat-Cat hotel is very nice, but the rooms are unheated and the fireplaces smoke.

We have heard that the Royal, for the same price, is much more comfortable although the staff at the Cat-Cat is very friendly and helpful and I don’t think that can be replaced.

The food at the Gecko is expensive, mediocre and served in small helpings.

Sapa wine is to die for. Try the Chinese beer. The dining room at the Cat-Cat is a

 pleasure and the food is good and cheap.

Also we can recommend the restaurant at L’Auberge which serves French and Vietnamese food.