The next village on our list was Ta Phin, which we read would be much less traversed and less touristy than Cat Cat village. At ten kilometres walk from Sapa, it would be a nice day trip. However, we got off on the wrong foot when we couldn't find which street to take out of the town. We followed two other backpackers with a guide who looked like they knew where they were going. We figured even if they weren't going to Ta Phin, they were going somewhere.
The road quickly turned into a narrow path with bush on both sides that motorbikes were still trying to squeeze down. I almost trod on a fuzzy caterpillar that was making its way across the footpath. Whenever I shaded him with the umbrella we were carrying to aid photo taking, he would alter trajectory in my direction. We decided it was most likely because he thought I was a tree.
Near one residence was a fence with broken glass spiking up from the top to deter intruders. This reminded me of our stay in Malaysia. On the car ride to Batu Caves, we saw high-fenced houses (some with glass atop) and one person asked "Is it true there are no fences in New Zealand?" It made me think how lucky we are not to need fences separating our houses from the world. Keeping sheep in their paddocks is all we need fences for.
Our first view of the luscious rice terraces came through a break in the tree cover. The umbrella we borrowed from our hotel kept us dry from the frequent showers, as well as the blinding sun. (This shade as well as intermittent cloud cover gave me a false sense of security, and I ended up fairly badly burnt at the end of the day. I put this down to the anti-malaria tablets we were taking daily, which heighten sensitivity to sun exposure.)
In order to continue walking the path to Ta Phin, we actually had to walk through the rice paddies. We did this by standing on the very edges where the earth is built up to divide the terraces, as we had seen the farmers do. I was worried about slipping and falling into the carefully planted rice (as you can see in the photo, they are individually planted rather than a scattering of seeds), not because I would get muddy and wet but because I would damage their livelihood.
Along the road you'd often see puppies and half naked children playing, roosters strutting and people burdened with heavy baskets of corn on their backs. A little girl shouted "hello" at us repeatedly and with increasing urgency until we turned around and said it back to her. She was very insistent on that hello. There were a few strange sights as well, including a man stooped over a dog with its throat slit, preparing it to be turned into a meal. The blood was made redder by its white fur, and somehow it didn't seem real.
The views were stunning, and as promised all was green and white. At the time we weren't sure if we had reached Ta Phin village, as we couldn't see the ruined French monastery that supposedly lay there. Later after we researched, we found that we in fact had not reached the village, but at the same time we couldn't figure out how to. Even without seeing Ta Phin, the walk and the sights there and back were đẹp (Vietnamese for beautiful) and I'd do it again in a second.
Though it was cooler this far north, any exertion whatsoever immediately brought on a cascade of sweat. You can imagine what walking up steep paths set into the hillside would do, but so you know for sure I documented Yannick's sweaty back.
On our last evening in Sapa, we tried wines made from the two most widely grown crops in the area: rice and corn. The corn wine was too strong for enjoyment, but the rice wine was milder and I drank almost all of the tiny ceramic cupful.
We returned to Hanoi via another overnight train, which turned out to be a small nightmare when trying to get the tickets. Judging from the instructions, we were supposed to pick them up from a hotel near the train station. We couldn't figure out exactly what was going on as we didn't speak Vietnamese, but we were directed back to the train station where we were then directed to the hotel. It took a lot of going back and forth between people and waiting, and eventually we were shepherded onto the correct compartment by a no-nonsense lady who would not acknowledge being thanked profusely, and who brought us our fabled tickets five minutes before the train departed. Legend!
Back in the capital, we chilled in the hotel with free bananas before our flight to Bangkok and gave Tim our insect repellant. As he was going on a trip to Cat Ba island in Halong Bay, he found it useful and said "Yes, I will kill it!"
I will miss the street food, with eateries specialising in one dish only (banh mi, bun bo nam bo, bun cha and pho). I will miss the hectic streets where you have to boldly step out in the path of hundreds of motorcycles. I will miss the children along the road who call out "hello" and grin when you say it back. I've only just left, and I want to be back.
No comments:
Post a Comment