Trekking in Sapa

Sapa was everything we imagined Vietnam to be...and more. Majestic peaks of South East Asia's highest mountain range rose from the mist in contrast to the steeped rice terraces lining the valley and huge bamboo plants lining the road. Even after a ropey nights sleep aboard the sleeper train that took us to the Chinese border, the breathtaking sights and freezing air were enough to keep us awake. At 6 degrees, the cold air was a shock and we had sent our warm clothes home so, any excuse to shop, we went to the local market and bought fleeces, body warmers and hats. We now have a new four seasons wardrobe!

The town itself reminded us strongly of Cusco in Peru. Hill tribes peddle their wares wearing traditional costume; black woolen leg warmers (worn high and not like Fame!), woven skirts, tunics, hats and bunches of heavy earrings weighing down their lobes.

The first afternoon we trekked into the valley (thankfully downhill!) with our lovely guide, a native of Sapa. We encountered the Black H' Mong tribe and our guide explained how they own farmland, cutting rice terraces into the mountainside and producing armies of children to farm them. Families can reach 14 in an effort to breed more farmhands! The Vietnamese Government inserted a law in an effort to stop them producing so many children and made 20 the minimum age for marriage. Consequently a woman from the Black H' Mong tribe is pretty much on her back from the ages of 20 to 40!

Walking to Cat Cat falls we saw how the hill tribe villages harness the power of the water falling and then took a motorbike ride back up to the top.

After dinner, we wandered around the quiet streets of Sapa feasting on such street delights as barbequed chestnuts, eggs and sweet potatoes before setting into a bar in front of a fire and sipping rice wine (meths).

After a night so cold, we had warn even our hats to bed, our breakfast of steaming noodle soup was more welcome than ever. We met our guide and two other trekking companions for the day, the lovely Dutch Olaf and Yolanda and set out on our 16km trek of the Sapa mountains. We learnt along the way that Olaf and Yolanda live in a flat overlooking the canals in Amsterdam and having decided not to have children, they travel for a year in every three. They were such interesting people and we couldn't help but wonder about all the amazing sights they must have seen on their frequent travels. The day grew warmer and we discarded layer after layer as the sunshine peered oven Fransipan mountain, the tallest in South East Asia at 3143m high. We trekked through different hill tribes observing how hard they work - even the children - farming the fields and rice terraces. Often the little girls from the tribes would follow us for a while, chatting in broken English whilst trying to sell us their handicrafts which 9 out of 10 times we bought. They were such cute salespeople, who could resist?!

We saw some of their classrooms and gave them pens and paper that other traveller recommended we take. It's so hard for them as most tribes, even those as little as two kilometres apart, have their own language which is spoken only. At school the children have to first learn Vietnamese and then English - many don't bother seeing little point in studying when they are only able to work in the fields. Perhaps that is one of the constructive points of tourism, that they widen their English vocabulary little by little each season.

After 16km we were exhausted but totally exhilarated after a trek with sights on a par with the Inca Trail in places. We will never forget balancing along the top of the rice terraces that spread beneath us like giant steps, or the waterfall that trickled overhead and splashed into the bamboo forests....or Beth's throbbing in-growing toenail. Yes, sorry to spoil the wonderful imagery that Sapa certainly evokes but, to continue Beth's foot injury theme from Aus, on return to Hanoi she had to have a minor operation to have her big toenail removed. Desite the pain of having two massive needles forced into the end of her toe and then seeing a scalpal remove all plans of lovely painted nails on her return, she will still never forget the wonderful rice terraces giving way to the...etc, etc.