Imagine all of this and you have some idea of what Sapa is like. Right in the north of Vietnam, close to the Chinese border and part of the eastern-most section of the Himalayas, lies the town which serves as the gateway to the indigenous groups that exist in the Vietnamese mountains. And it's pretty special.
We went trekking in Sapa for three days and spent two nights in 'homestays' - as the name suggests, this is where you sleep in the houses of the local people. Generally these 'homes' are one of many houses created specifically for tourists with the family that run it actually living next door, but we were lucky enough to spend one of our nights in the real home of a couple who welcomed us. Both were fantastic and a real highlight of our time in amazing Vietnam.
Taking the night train from Hanoi, we shared a surprisingly comfortable cabin with a lovely Australian couple (who gushed over Imran's "gorgeous thick and curly locks" A LOT) and slept on wonderfully rock-hard beds. That's what I like! They were more comfy than some of the hotel beds we've slept on. Arriving in Sapa in the early hours of the morning, we were greeted with rain, mist and ridiculously cold temperatures. People kept telling us we should be able to cope with it, being from England and all. "But we don't walk around outside in t-shirts when it's cold there!" we had to keep reminding them. We live in the lap of luxury with central heating, insulated homes and hot water on tap (pun intended.) Cue a shopping spree in North Face for ski socks and fleeces - and this was in addition to the t-shirts, thermal tops and jumpers we were already wearing. Our untimely arrival also meant the treks were as muddy as a prince pig's palatial pen and we had to hire wellies and ponchos, too. Trekking in wellies: I really don't recommend it.
Our guide was Dong. She was a member of the local H'mong tribe which makes up the largest number in Sapa and whose members look like the girls described above. She was fun and jolly with amazing English and an infectious, raucous laugh. She kept cracking up at Imran's accent and doing impressions of him saying "wa'er" instead of "water." As we trekked over the mountains and around the terraces more H'mong girls kept us company, asking us about our lives at home. They all asked the same questions and gave identical responses no matter what the answer: "What is your name? - How beautiful!" "How old are you? Fifty two? So young!" As kind and sweet as they all were, we learned the hard way that engaging in conversation with or accepting help from any of them implied an unspoken obligation to buy handicrafts from them later... and they weren't shy about ripping us off!
The trekking would on a normal day be as easy as pie but the mud changed everything. The rocky 'paths' were so slippery that people needed help from these young girls. They were amazing! They were all under five feet tall but as strong as bodybuilders. On our first morning we trekked with a group of French people who had refused to heed advice to hire wellies and were sinking ankle deep into mud with every step. It was a hilarious sight to see one of the guys - at least 6"4 - having to hold the hands of two tiny girls to climb anywhere!
We hiked over rugged mountain edges, squelched calf-deep in mud on unstable terrain and negotiated steep, downhill rocks. We all know I'll take exhausting uphill any day over any form of precarious downhill hiking and, as Imran was being his usual amazing action-man self, I was busy slipping, sliding and skidding in buffalo sh*t. Believe it or not, it doesn't smell good!
Luckily our first night's homestay in the Ta Van village had hot water so I could make myself smell presentable. Even so, it was absolutely freezing the second we stepped away from any warmth. As we sat in the living room of the wood and bamboo house in all five layers as well as socks and gloves, wrapped up in a heavy duvet and next to a tin of burning coal, we could see our breath in front of us as we talked. I can't remember ever being that cold before. We were the only outsiders in this home so the experience felt incredibly authentic. It didn't matter if it was cold: we were up in the Vietnamese mountains, sitting around a dinner table and sharing a feast with people from tribes that have lived in the mountains for centuries. This was the kind of experience we came to Asia for! I'd warned Imran before that if we visited ethnic groups, the custom was for the man to be welcomed with some hard homemade liquor which he'd be required to drink out of politneness. And lo and behold, the husband brought out a bottle of his rice wine and poured us all shots. I took a sip and left it at that; it took Imran five shots and just as many refills to realise his glass would only be left alone if it wasn't empty! At least it was plain rice wine and not the traditional "5 Times A Night" shots - these consist of the still beating heart of a snake in one glass and the blood in another. You can guess from the name what the supposed effect is.
We slept that night on the floor, under two duvets and in all our clothes yet still shivering. But for the experience we'd had, it was well worth it. We've come a long way since the Inca Trail! Even so, we were thankful to trek deeper into the valley the following day and experience slightly warmer weather. We cut through more villages and saw lots of gorgeous kids who waved at us and shouted "candy!" Our second homestay was in Ban Ho and was one of those built specifically for tourists; however, there was no hot water at this one and so we decided to stay filthy!
Staying with us was a Dutch couple who, like all Dutch people we meet, were incredibly friendly, fun and with better English than us. We sat with their guide Mo, the local family and Dong for hours around a table piled high with food and rice wine, talking, laughing and eating. It was a fantastic night. Remember how I'd been moved by the experience of being in the mountains with locals the previous night? This night was emotional in many other ways as we sang Spice Girls songs (blame the rice wine), came up with a plot and theme tune for a movie called 'The Cultivator' and cried real tears of laughter as Mo told us she'd have to shave her whole body first before she ever came to visit England (what does she think she'd have to do there?!)
The following morning we walked to the Nam Tong village, home to the Red Dzao tribe. The women in this group have a very distinctive look. They have flawless skin with sharp, striking features and wear red and silver scarves over their shaved heads. We had beautiful views of the mountains and passed an abundance of flowers bordering a rocky river. There were only 14-16 huts in this village and the local school had just a few classes of 4/5 children. They were filthy and barefoot as this was a poor village; here, land equals more animals owned and more rice to sell and they obviously didn't have much, but the kids were showing a passion for learning that we don't see in our home countries where it's taken for granted. Saying that, this is 2012 and while the kids may not have any shoes or the homes hot water, one can always buy some top-up mobile phone credit in the local shop!
As the time approached to head back to Sapa town, we felt this was a good opportunity to go on motorbikes without risking life or limb. Dong decided she'd join us and jumped on the back of my bike, meaning I was being straddled by this little dumpling whilst at the same time straddling an eighteen year old local boy with unnaturally warm hips and a t-shirt saying 'Man eater.' I know the Vietnamese are fond of sandwiches but this wasn't quite what I had in mind! At one point I shuffled in my seat and accidentally hit my knee in his back. "Are you uncomfortable?" the young lad asked. "No, just happy to see you," I replied. Thankfully, he didn't get it.
Sapa was incredible. It was challenging, beautiful and interesting. It was a perfect blend of old and new; ancient and modern. You can be in isolated mountains in the middle of Asia, eating food grown on the land with families that define affluence by the number of buffaloes they own but people are exactly the same the world over. As Dong said when she was leaving us: "I have to go and deal with my ex-boyfriend now. He wants to get back with me but he dumped me for another girl so I'm not sure about him now.. I need to find a sugar daddy. Right, I'm off to watch 'Vietnam's Got Talent'!"
Back in Hanoi we celebrated the end of a great northern Vietnamese adventure with a night of karaoke with our Dutch pals. Karaoke is always fun but it's even better when you sing 'When The Lion Sleeps Tonight.' Everybody: wimoweh, wimoweh, a wimoweh...
We've never been as excited to land in any airport as we were when we arrived in Danang. The other Lakhas, Amir and Duong (aka Doug Nugget), our gorgeous nieces Mia and Lana, and Duong's immediate family were living it up in the family bar/home with her aunt and uncle and we were about to join them. As soon as I spotted my home girl Nugget and Imran caught sight of Mia and Lana waving at him, we were inwardly squealing and jumping around like little kids. It was so good to see them all! I think the only thing that could have made me happier was being greeted by Bruce Willis singing 'Love Machine.' That wish, by the way, has still not come true after two months of patient waiting. Perhaps it's a good thing because if he were at Danang airport I think I'd have to fight Duong to get to him first and I don't fancy my chances, her being someone who chases after muggers in east London and everything.
Long Beach Cafe is one hell of a lovely bar (no bias!) so you should recommend it to anyone who ever goes to Danang. Duong's mum and aunt make the BEST pho in the whole of Vietnam. You might think I'm just saying that because they're family but I absolutely promise that I say it with all objectivity. Ok, perhaps we don't know if it's the best in the ENTIRE country but it was certainly the nicest out of every single one we tried up and down Vietnam. We were so well fed over four days that we reckon we'll be round at the family home every Sunday when we're back in London!
We spent our days going to the beach, taking day trips and climbing up Marble Mountain to pray in caves with Buddha shrines and catch a lovely view of Danang from up high. One morning we all went for a massage. I hadn't gotten one in Vietnam yet, having been scarred by several stories of inappropriate fondling and lesbian groping. But we needn't have worried as our masseurs just simply sat on our backsides. Cheek to cheek contact: lovely! Duong told us later that she clenched and I can only imagine that her masseuse thought SHE was the one getting over-excited.
We visited a beautiful area in the hills called Ba Na where a cable car took us over thick forests until we reached a 'fantasy park.' No, not that kind of fantasy park: a children's one! It was only a half-built one but the kids' play area was open. Remember that brilliant show we used to watch as kids called 'Fun House' with Pat Sharp? I always wanted to go on that but my dad would never let me apply because it "wasn't what good Asian girls did." Well, this play area was just like Fun House and Amir and Imran were having more fun in there than the kids! I, of course, was more mature about it and used Lana for my own benefit: under the pretence of going in there just to keep her company I lived out my childhood dream. (And it was so much better now with my little 1 year old darling niece in tow.)
Our nights in Danang were spent playing cards and laughing at the loser of each game who had to drink neat vodka and whiskey shots. But if you're going to drink, it's best to do it in style so we all went out for a sushi dinner on our final evening and toasted every other jug of Sake with a cry of: "Khong say khong vea!" It's a great phrase and one lots of our friends' families seem to live by - "If you're not drunk, you're not going home!" Maybe that's why we get on so well with them. So anyway, each night we all drank and the children ran around enjoying themselves. Wow, our parents really did miss a trick. When we were kids we used to hate going back to the motherland and our parents would tell us off for not appreciating our background. If only they knew how simple the answer was: buy a bar on the beach!
Mia, our four year old niece, loved Vietnam and cried passionate tears of sadness whenever the subject of going back home to London was raised. It was a delight to watch her charging up Marble Mountain, doing her cute bows when she prayed to Buddha, lecturing us about the correct Vietnamese pronunciation of words and running around in her traditional outfits. Imran's face lit up with joy when she said she wanted to sleep in our bed but it fell as soon as he realised I'd still be in there too. When we'd wake up she would get a big cuddle and enormous smile and I'd get a "Hey.. wasup." But I understand: she's a far more appealing sight first thing in the morning!
Thanks Nugget to you and your family for your wonderful hospitality that week. We had a fabulous time in Danang and I now know for sure that you are the hottest Fittie McVittie in Vietnam AND London!
Just half an hour away from Danang is the fantastic Hoi An. We'd been here on a day trip during the week with the family and thought it was ok but it was when we stayed here at the weekend that we saw how brilliant a place it is and perhaps our favourite in Vietnam. It's a little town, charming and quaint, with historical architecture and streets full of tailors offering to make you clothes. There are sights to see but we didn't bother going to any of them because we were here for just one thing: food. They call Hoi An the gastronomic capital of Vietnam and if you stay away from the tourist cafes, you'll find this is true. Hoi An is the king of Vietnamese salads and we ate a dizzying and delicious variety. We also went to a cooking school here - yes, even Imran! - and had a great time but more about that in Part 3.
On a Saturday night, Hoi An illuminates its river with floating candles and scented flowers. Only the softest lights can be seen in any shop or restaurant, the atmospheric Oriental lanterns giving the whole place a romantic fairy-tale ambience. Relaxing traditional music was being played on Vietnamese string instruments and a dance show was going on at the riverfront. Elsewhere, a random bingo game was being played by locals in a mini Main Square and teenagers were weaving around the streets on bicycles and skates. It was a lovely atmosphere and we had a great time. Even the random little local kid who smacked me couldn't change how much we loved Hoi An! She was a pint-sized six year old who barged past me yelling "Hiya!" (in the martial arts way, not the friendly way) and karate-chopped me across the midriff. We both turned to look at each other and she grinned at me, daring me to do something. Her mother just stared at us both. "Well, aren't you a little f*ck face?" I said to her. I smiled at her mother. "You must be so proud of your delightful brat!" I said in the sweetest tone I could manage. Thankfully not understanding my words, she beamed at me in agreement.
Time to hit the south of Vietnam!
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