Sapa, the city in the cloud. Part 2

The best way to experience Sapa is to take a guided trek through the villages, as many pleasant walks pass through nearby villages. Many homes have no electricity end are lit inside by a smordering heap of embers dug into the dirt floor. It can take a while for your eyes to adjust to the dimness before the shapes of small wooden benches and chairs, tools, cooking utensils, and other trappings of rural life become clearly defined. I watched pigs snuffle contentedly outside in their pens and chickens enter doorways in squawking flurries of feathers, chased by giggling, semi-naked toddlers. There were men leaning against a wall of roughly hewn planks, chatting quietly in their native tongue and taking occasional breaks to puff on gurgling water pipes.

The loft spaces of village houses remain empty until the early fail when the rice paddies have yellowed and ripened for harvest. Then, whole families will work together to reap and pack the grains. Storing unhusked rice under the hut roof to keep them fed during the punishing winter months.

Although the indigo jackets of the Black H’mong are more numerous, they are less eye-catching than the scarlet attire of the Dzao. Trekking along the rocky path, it's easy to spot small groups of Dzao women making their way back up to their homes, conspicuous red dots against a neutral earthy palette of greens and creamy browns. Up close, the Dzao women are striking, their unique bone structure made all the more prominent by their shaven heads and eyebrows. They remove the hair from the front of their heads to keep cool under the heary red headscarles heaped on top, and many are happy to show visitors exactly how they create the towering caps of tasseled cloth. Some carry babies across their backs, wrapped in a brightly colored swaddles. Often only the top of the baby's head is visible, a tiny red dome covered in auspiciour, mirrored embellishments, embroidery and tassels. “It’s for luck”, the mother explains. “If you like, you can buy…”

Every member of the family has responsibilities, even the young-sters. The children attend school in the morning, taught by Vietnantese teachers, and return to help their parents in the afternoon. When water buffalo are not plowing the terraces, these benevolent beasts are well cared for by the children. I saw one boy strewn across his Buffalo’s back, fast asleep, as another aged five or six herded a small herd of jet-black goats up the road, skipping behind them as his tiny rubber boots splashed through small rivulets.

The influx of tourists has given the local ethnic minorities a reliable source of income. Before they traded rice, cardamom or other produce at the markets, but now they sell tourists keepsakes such as embroidered textiles, bags, and etched earrings. Despite the increased income, critics worry that ethnic minorities might lose touch with their culture, as they sell off their exquisite garments and handmade crafts, and use products made cheaply in China and sold in Vietnamese markets.


Toni Nguyen

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