Trekking along muddy trails to my indigenous homestay for the evening, over and down enormous rice terraces glistening in the afternoon rain, I looked back down the steep, deep green valley carved into the surrounding mountains and wondered what took me so long to get here.
Located in the northwest corner of Vietnam, nearing the Chinese border, I did not have especially high expectations for Sapa, and more or less added it to the list as my final stop before heading to Laos. Little did I know that I’d come to enjoy this mountain escape more than any other place in Vietnam.
The main draw of Sapa is the plethora of homestays available, as local women offer to take you through the hills into their village, where they will give you a bed, cook you a meal, and sell you bracelets. Arriving on the night bus at 3:30 in the morning, the crowd of women began to show up around 4, unbeknownst to the sleeping and weary travelers aboard. Once the doors opened at 6, the sales pitches began, accompanied by surprisingly good English as compared to the rest of the country. The women are sweet enough, and it wasn’t too much of a hassle to avoid being dragged along down the mountain to an unknown village.
Prior to venturing out into the villages, a motorbike trip was necessary to ease my withdrawals I’d been having ever since I sold my bike. The areas surrounding Sapa were simply stunning. Silver and Love waterfalls, along with Tram Ton pass just add to the incredible views around nearly every corner of the winding roads that split off in all directions from the center of town. Lush greens of the forest give way to the terraces that dot nearly every hillside, where running out of fuel becomes the only worry that could possibly cross one’s mind. Nearly every café and restaurant sports a view you’d be hard-pressed to find anywhere outside a 5-star hotel or mansion in the hills.
While the homestay itself was underwhelming, the journey to get there, along with the obligatory exploring around the hillside and village by day and night, was nothing short of idyllic. The steady rain simply added to the aura of it all. Mist covered the mountains as streams of water splashed from the terraces down to the roaring river below. Nearly everyone slipped down the muddy “trail” at one point or another, as the local women became invaluable guides / steady arms on which to hold on. I’d like to think they were helping out of the goodness of their hearts, but they too had bracelets to sell once we arrived for lunch. The scenes continued to unfold. Farmers reflecting on their work ahead out over the valley. Children enjoying the view from atop water buffaloes. Men and women plowing each and every terrace. Farm animals running rampant. All it took was a slight detour away from the undeterred saleswomen and children to find the true draw of the area, reality in its purest form.
Upon arrival at the homestay, I set out with some serendipitous company on a little exploring through the terraces and away from the main drag. For some unknown reason, the lines and contours of the rice terraces mesmerize me. I cannot help but be captivated by both the engineering and the artistic appeal of it all. Tip-toeing along the ledges, trying to avoid both falling in and falling off, while at the same time dodging angry dogs and immovable buffalo, my sense of adventure was as heightened as ever, and euphoria set in as we passed little children keen on a game of hand slapping (My hands were too quick for them, if you were wondering).
The trek back to town was wet and slippery as expected, but no less spectacular, as we climbed and climbed to hillside huts for short respites from the rain, crossing some of the paths I’d gathered a sneak peek at the day before. After returning to Sapa, it was clear that one day on the motorbike proved insufficient, as we spent another day outside the town exploring more villages accessed by paths that resembled roads to some degree. More buffalo, more children, more terraces, more shades of green, more surreal views. There’s a particular joy associated with the feeling of knowing you’re exactly where you need to be.
...and then, with the roar of the night bus, it's gone.