I’m writing this post from an eight hour (day) sleeper-bus from Dalat to Ho Chi Minh City. It makes me laugh when I think about how much of our time we have spent on these buses. Since we left SF on June 15th, Brian and I have been to ten countries and have only taken nine flights (including our flights from the US in August and December). The rest of the time has been trains and buses, but mostly buses (a couple cars, scooters, and camels are in the mix as well). It’s pretty incredible to think about the ease of travel throughout these countries when we can barely cross state lines without a flight in the US.
I’ve grown to enjoy the sleeper buses in Vietnam. It almost feels like a second home…or a first…since we don’t really have a home these days. It’s a bit bizarre but the bus has become one of the only familiar and constants we have in our present day life. Crazy, right?
Back to Sapa. After a couple days in Hanoi we decided to venture up north to the land of rice fields and friendship bracelets. Everyone had positive things to say about this tranquil farming region and we were excited to explore. We took our first (and sadly our last) overnight train and were pleasantly surprised at how comfortable our four berth room was, especially because we booked the “local” train. Things were looking up until I noticed a baby bottle on the table. In a room fit for only four, we slept six. We were asked to move to the top bunk so it would be easier for the children (yes, not child, children) to reach the bottom bunks. It really did end up being fine once our ears got used to the high pitched sing songy music blaring from everyone’s iPads. Thankfully, Brian and I downloaded Arrival before the train so we were able to tune it all out (PS. Arrival was SO good! You should definitely watch it if you haven’t already!). After the movie, I helped the kids with their ABC’s and we all sang together before finally falling asleep.
Brian and I were both shocked at how easy the train was and really should have known better than to expect the rest of the trip to carry the same theme. As soon as we arrived, everything started to fall apart. One bad decision after another, we ended up overpaying for what we thought was a private taxi directly to our homestay (which was just a few KM outside of Sapa Town in a neighboring village called Tavan. This was all news to me which was surprising since I researched and booked our accommodations). Our private taxi turned out to be a minibus which only took us as far as the town center. I tried to argue my way to our homestay but I failed and had to fork over another 250,000 dong just to go 13 KM. Except we didn’t go 13 KM. We picked up a hitchhiker along the way and our driver, knowing we couldn’t do anything, dropped us off at a footbridge he knew he wouldn’t be able to cross (even though we were promised door to door service). He pointed out towards the bridge and told us our homestay was just beyond it. LIES. I mean, yes, it was across the bridge, but the entire journey ended with Brian and I going on an unexpected morning trek with all our luggage at 6:00am on tiny dirt paths hugging the sides of rice fields. Beautiful views? Yes. Happy Shiva? No.
We stayed at a lovely homestay called Lucky Daisy. And thankfully I remembered to booked the only room with an ensuite bathroom. This was particularly important as Brian was having a mild case of food poisoning. The bad news? Something was wrong with the pipes and so hot water/steam trickled out of the pipes twenty four hours a day without any relief, transforming the bathroom and our tiny bedroom into a personal sauna. It was less than ideal.
We only booked two nights to begin with, thinking we would extend after arriving, but I was satisfied with two nights, and to my surprise, so was Brian.
We never actually stepped foot in Sapa, and according to everyone we met, it was better that we didn’t. This isn’t the same quiet mountain town that people visited years ago. Our high hopes, and all the beautiful memories from our friends, just didn’t line up with what we were seeing. The rice fields weren’t as vibrant. The people didn’t seem authentic. The mountain air was nonexistent. Really, it felt like a huge tourist trap where everyone and their mother (literally) was trying to sell you friendship bracelets and other various types of jewelry and local souvenirs.
You couldn’t take five steps in one direction without a local, albeit charming, woman would approach you with what seemed like the same five questions from a script they all must have memorized. “Hello, what’s your name? What country are you from? When did you arrive in Sapa? How long you stay? Later, you come shopping with me?” Brian and I always indulge locals by answering their questions and kindly saying no when asked if we want to buy anything (we have witnessed a lot of not so kind reactions from tourist) but this was pushing even our gentle limits.
We decided to explore Tavan on our own and ended up not booking any sort of trekking tour. Despite being let down by our expectations, we still had a wonderful time and would recommend visiting Tavan to anyone traveling in northern Vietnam, after setting their expectations straight. During our trek on day one, two local women started walking with us after asking us the routine five questions. We kindly refused all the different trinkets they offered us and yet they continued to walk and share information about the landscape. They pointed out the indigo plant to us, the irrigation system, and some local farms and schools. After several minutes of engaging in conversation I let them know again that while we really enjoyed their company, we wouldn’t be able to buy anything from them. And still they walked with us. Finally after thirty or so minutes, they stopped and tried to sell us everything from their baskets to their livestock before finally giving up and retreating down the path.
On our second day we were feeling quite adventurous and rented a scooter to explore even smaller towns (north/south) of Tavan. We were told to just follow the main road in the opposite direction of Sapa. Easy enough, right? What was conveniently left out of the conversation was the lack of an actual road. Riding on the back of a scooter is never comfortable, but riding on the back of a scooter on a road that looked like it lost a long battle with a jackhammer is impossible.
After twenty minutes of absolute torture, the scooter made a horrible noise which caused everyone around us to stop and come to our aid. We thought maybe some rocks had jumped up into the engine but after several local folks played around with it for a bit, they told us everything was okay and it was safe to drive. That lasted for two minutes before the bike just gave out and we were forced to walk it down six kilometers to the nearest bike shop. Thankfully for the good of all humanity the trek was downhill or else we may not have been here to tell the tale (almost two years later).
Not even twenty minutes later, after several confusing interactions and phone calls, and $14 we were back up and running. The bike shop ended up having to replace the entire gear on the back tire.. If we were in the US, we would still be waiting to be greeted by a mechanic. It was impressive.
Despite the hiccup, we continued to cruise (read: practically walk the bike around all the potholes) along the sides of the rice fields taking in the beauty of what Sapa must have looked like ten plus years ago. Even if the rice fields didn’t meet our expectations, it was still really beautiful.
We decided we had pushed our luck enough and made our way back to our homestay where we sat around a candle lit table for family dinner. (In reality, it felt more like we were crashing a Dutch party as we were the only people not from Holland). The air was thick with fog and smoke and our bodies were covered in falling ash from the fires lining the dirt path to our homestay. On this night, we took comfort in our tiny steamy room and fell into a deep sleep before the roosters woke us up at 6:00 am just in time for a banana pancake on our way out.
S+B
