Patchwork Face

Patchwork Face

I was in Hoi An and after a couple of lovely days in this fabulous town of tailors (which I made excellent use of too), I tripped and fell. I have multiple facial abrasions, black eye, stitches in a few places and a broken nose.
For a variety of reasons it was decided I should be sent via air ambulance from Hoi An to Saigon - or Ho Chi Minh City for further treatment and a cat scan. It was all very dramatic. Thankfully the scans shown no skull fracture.
I am spending the majority of my time in a hotel close to the very good clinic where I need to go each day for dressings and to be checked.
I'm doing OK. My wounds are healing well and although I am still extremely tired, swollen and must rest, my spirits are excellent.
I have many articles I'd written days (or should that be weeks ago) ready for a little further polish before adding them to my website and depending upon the energy levels I may be able to put them on. They are starting to mount up actually - Stunning Halong Bay, Surprising Ninh Binh, Hue - which would have to be the hassle capital of Vietnam and of course laid back Hoi An where I've left behind clothes at a couple of tailors.
I am very disappointed that my time there was shortened as I planned to stay there for several more days. And I missed seeing the ancient ruins of the Kingdom of Champa - My Son which is very disappointing.

As the articles are nearly ready, I might find the energy to post some......maybe......Keep looking.

Photo: the plane I was taken on from Danang to Saigon (Just two crew, two medical staff and me strapped in a stretcher (and hooked up to oxygen) on the floor!

More Photos From Bac Ha

This was such an amazing market I decided to add a few more photos. Hope you like them.

1. Worker in cornfield

2. Buying wool

3. The yolks and tops waiting for buyers.

Going Back in Time - The Bac Ha Markets

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A Trip Back in Time – the Bac Ha Market
North West Vietnam



The three hour mini bus trip from Sapa to the Bac Ha markets was full of drama. We experienced an impasse between a truck and our vehicle on a one way bridge; later our driver called the police to sort out a problem. These and other such challenges are not unusual on these busy narrow roads in northern Vietnam. Sometimes the muddy roads had deep pot holes forcing our driver to find another way to pass or risk getting stuck. As in many of my journeys, the road was windy, narrow, there were perilously steep drops to the valleys way below us. There were no barriers to protect a wayward vehicle and its passengers which added to the drama.

Horns are used a lot in Vietnam and our driver pressed his so frequently you would think he was paid on a per use basis. But this horn wasn’t the kind to press for a sharp one off “parp” sound to alert someone or something. Our horn went on and on for several seconds playing an annoying little tune. After awhile, we could almost predict when he would use the noise machine; to chase pedestrians, goats, water buffalo, chickens, pigs, push bikes, horse and carts or motor cyclists out of the way. It was also frequently used as we approached a blind corner. As a mini bus, we seemed to command greater rights to the roads over almost anything else – except of course a bigger bus. I often wondered how the Vietnamese in these rural villages feel about the “flash” tourists screaming through their villages ordering them, with noise, to get out of our way. It doesn’t rest easily with me.

Part way through our journey we reach a one lane bridge which was controlled by lights. When the lights turned green it was our turn to cross and we edged forward but when we were about two thirds of the way across we were forced to a standstill by a truck coming the opposite way. The truck driver tried to force his way through. Duh! There was no way through and so for many minutes there was an impasse as each driver shouted and waved frantically at the other to back up. It was so funny to watch. After some time, our driver began to reverse but because we had the right of way there were many vehicles backed up behind us all waiting for a solution. After several minutes the bridge guard wandered down and ordered the truck driver to back up. However, even that wasn’t easy. I couldn’t watch as I swear this was the first time he had backed his truck as in his retreat he wove left then right rather haphazardly and even scraped the side of the grey bridge. I reckon he was either a novice driver or he’d been consuming too much of the highland tribes moonshine.

About three hours after leaving Sapa we arrived at Bac Ha and the markets. What a bright busy, bustling sight!

The women here dress in traditional native clothing and this is not just for show day as they wear this gear when working in the fields. Their headgear too is magnificent.

The most visible in and around the market because of their colourful dress are the Flower H’mong, so named because their clothing looks like a flower. Even the long sleeves on their tops are boldly hand embroidered. Around the neck they wear a wide yolk which too is intricately patterned in many hues. Sometimes the yolks, which are about 40cm in width, have extra trimmings added to the edge or additional baubles. Their widely gathered, full circle skirts, again multi coloured are embroidered with floral motifs and they swish as they walk. They are a wonder to see. Despite the thick pervading mud underfoot I noticed that they are able to keep the bottom clean and dry which is more than I managed, even though I rolled up my trousers.

Being there is like taking a huge leap back in time. This is a market for the locals but it has evolved some (but not a lot) to cater for the tourists. However locals still outnumber tourists and many of the stalls exist specifically for them. This is a rural economy and so there are hoe heads for sale, water buffalo, cows, dogs, small horses along with food supplies and much more.

My eyes swivel this way that trying to imprint the images on my mind. This was sensory overload of the kind I have rarely experienced! After awhile I calmed down because no matter where I looked there was a feast of richly coloured and varied sights to take in. The dress, noise, tantalizing aromas of food being cooked, locals weighing up purchasing decisions for the weeks ahead, watching the process of them bargaining and then loading up their horses or wagons for the trip back home are all alluring sights, sounds and smells.

There are many piles of tobacco for sale in differing shades of brown and tan. Adjacent to these mounds rest large bamboo pipes which are stained charcoal through much use. They are about a metre long and prospective buyers squat or sit in front of the tobacco to try before they buy.

The main form of transportation here is foot, horse, and horse and cart. I saw many horses laden ready for the sometimes long trip back home. Sometimes these hill tribe ethnic minorities walk for days to get here.

Apparently moonshine is available at this market. The locals have a reputation for the manufacture and supply of alcoholic home brews which they make from rice, cassava and corn. There’s an entire area set aside for the sale but I didn’t come across it. Later I heard that often, on the trip back home, the local women walk ahead leading a horse with their husband slumped sideways over the beast!

It was noisy too as neighbours catch up with the local gossip. Courtships were developing too between teenagers creating its own buzz and tension. Excited youngsters proudly wearing their finery raced around excitedly in twos, or groups of three or more to get the mountain equivalent of a McDonald’s treat – a raw cucumber, a stick of sugar cane or a home made ice-cream.

Although serious business is conducted here, there are also products available for tourists. Numerous tables display scarves, hats, bags, hand worked strips of cloth in varying widths (which they use as trim or decoration), wool, intricate linen table wear, silver jewelry and a variety of other souvenirs.

I added a few more scarves to my already huge collection and then I bargained for a bag to put it all in. It cost me $3 and is intricately patterned by machine. Mind you, the zip failed before I left the market but I don’t mind because I plan to turn into a cushion cover when I reach the tailoring capital of Vietnam, Hoi An later in my trip through Vietnam.

After time in this stunning market we were taken back to Lao Cai and dropped at a hotel/restaurant to dine to wait for the train back to Hanoi. But before that we have yet another altercation.

On a high narrow hill pass, we were forced to stop for some road works when a scooter driver tried to squeeze past but in doing so he scraped the side of our bus. Our driver was angry when the scooter driver refused to stop. In fact, as he made his escape, he drove right under the arm of a moving road working vehicle. Our driver got out and began to run after him shouting at the other stationary vehicles drivers to help him to stop the escapee. No luck, he’s off.

However, we were given rights to jump the waiting queue and our driver traveled far too fast down the steep road but the offender was on a nimble machine and he’s out of sight. Meanwhile cell phones became red hot as numerous calls were made, including some by our driver as he juggled the phone with negotiating the difficult terrain!

After about half an hour we saw several dozen Vietnamese gathered at a T junction and to my surprise they had apprehended the young offender. Our driver got out and arguments ensued, a few punches thrown – one from our driver - and there was much gesturing. We were told that the police had been called and there’ll be a wait which does not please us at all.

We waited and waited and waited. Finally, everyone was ordered back into the van and we drove off at speed unaware of any solution having been reached and we certainly hadn’t seen the police. We proceed several kilometers further, then slowed down at a small garage. The driver opened the window and threw out the offending drivers keys which he’d obviously confiscated. Retribution Vietnamese style! Honour had been restored.

When we waiting at the T junction I took the opportunity to stretch my legs and inspect the damage. A polish would have fixed it!

Thankfully there were no more dramas on the rest of the trip and we got back to Lao Cai with hours still to wait for the train.

I was amazed to find that I could get a shower in Lao Cai for $1. In the privacy of the room, I repacked my already overloaded back pack (I also bought several things in Sapa) and waited for the long, long trip back to Hanoi. This time I didn’t have such a convivial time with my bedfellows. I shared the cabin with an overly chatty Dutchman (who had also visited NZ and reminisces but this time I am too darned tired to feel homesick) and a Vietnamese couple with whom we have just nodding acquaintance.

However, it’s been an extremely long day and I am ready for sleep which comes fitfully.

I notice that I had written in my diary that “I am blissfully happy after my day visiting yet another ethnic minority. This has been another highlight of my trip.” They are beginning to mount up now and I would be hard pressed to limit it to ten. However this day at the Bac Ha markets would be very near the top if not come in at first place.

I’ve decided to spend two more nights in Hanoi at the same hotel and then go up to Halong Bay which is on the coast in the north east. This time it will be an organized trip and I’ll let you know how it goes next time so keep on checking……

Trekking in the Mists of Sapa

Trekking in the Mists
Trips from Sapa in North West Vietnam

After three months “on the road” and having sourced information and made a myriad of decisions myself, without reference or input from other people, it was very refreshing to sit down with Pete of the Sapa Rooms Boutique Hotel and have him make suggestions for how I could spend the time in the area.

It’s generally recommended that you take a tour up to Sapa and the majority of visitors I chatted to had done just that, but in my usual independent fashion I didn’t want to do that. I found that it wasn’t difficult to travel independently but I suspect that having Pete provide suggestions and organize a guide made it easier.

On my first full day the weather didn’t look at all promising due to persistent rain but the second day even though the mist was annoying and obscured the mountains, the rain held off. I left Sapa on the back of Huong’s motor cycle wearing several layers of clothing including a waterproof coat and pants which was essential because even in the mist I got wet. However, my young guide didn’t even have a jacket and I felt rather sorry for him as we raced through the countryside.

As we descended into the valley we left the mist above us but it hung around the tops of the mountains. On arrival in the village we were greeted by several H’mong women who stopped to chat and then put the heavy word on me to buy – and buy from each of the seven! They decided to follow me and so we looked like a bright celebratory procession as we traipsed, often single file, through their village and up the rise to the place where traditional medicines, made from local plants, are boiled in massive vats until they reduce to form a concentrate.

When we were nearly there, I could hear the cries of a young baby. It was a four week old swaddled and intricately strapped to his mothers back. When we stopped she unwrapped him and put him to the breast to suckle. The boys here are differentiated from the girls by the number of colours in their hats. The hats the children wear are very pretty and have good luck metal (like coins) sewn into the cloth. They believe that it is bad luck for anyone to touch the head of a child and as a westerner I found it rather difficult to refrain from patting them.

Here girls can marry at 18 and boys at 20. I was informed that the girls cannot marry until they have learnt to sew well. “Why?” I asked in typical western naivety.
“We must be able to sew to make clothes for ourselves and our family” was the prompt reply. With that short statement, I am quickly taken back in time; way back.

The men work hard and are rather stoic as they wander the roads, their long black pants rolled up to create shorts. Their bodies are “nuggety” - short, compact with strong muscles and not an ounce of surplus fat.

But the women work even harder. Not only do they work in the fields when required, they cook, take care of the children, make the families clothes and embroider, sew and sell goods to tourists. To sell their goods might necessitate a walk of many miles into Sapa.

Part of their costume is a striking richly embroidered piece of cloth hanging from the waist down the back of their skirts to mid thigh and I was told that this takes a year to embroider with silk. They are very beautiful.

In this village, after the women marry their eyebrows and some hair back from the forehead is shaved and they don a bright red head dress making it very easy to tell the two groups apart.

At the end of our couple of hours together they all demanded I buy from them. I said I would have a look at everyone’s goods and then make a decision but I was NOT buying from each of them. I got the young village girl whose English was excellent to let them know my intentions. Well…..in hindsight looking at each persons goods was a mistake because it turned into a high pitched frenzy of “you must buy from me…I have a baby….you took my photo….I was your guide…..I followed you” etc etc. I was disturbed. They would be great in a rugby scrum and would come up with the ball every time.

In the end I bought something from each of them, but only after a couple of them followed me into the area where my lunch was being prepared and got cross with me. I was quite upset over the whole episode. Had I been in a group I think it may have helped because there would have been more people to share the purchasing load, provide a distraction or lend moral support.

The prices are so cheap it seems rather criminal to bargain, but again, it’s expected and respected and I didn’t spend very much money to get a big pile of goods to take home for myself and as presents. Like I needed more stuff! Actually I’ll have to send another parcel home because the “extras” are mounting up.

After lunch, my local guides have my money so they disappeared to focus on other tasks, or tourists, and Huong and I were able to wander through the countryside which I loved. It was very peaceful, and interesting to see how they cultivate the land and live in this rural countryside dominated by the task and business of growing rice. I saw few other tourists once in and around the villages.

The next day I decide to go by myself and walk down the winding road to Cat Cat Village. I suppose it took about an hour and was downhill all the way and very very pretty. I took the photo of the hut on the way down. At one stage the road veers left and after paying a 75cent entrance fee, I descend hundreds of steps through the village, terraced rice fields and water buffalo working. At the bottom there is a waterfall along with the inevitable stall sellers. Here I buy two hand embroidered cushion covers for about $8. Believe it or not, I know I’ve paid over the top but having embroidered myself, I know the time involved in working this pattern would take a great many hours and I wasn’t about to bargain too hard.

Thankfully there is a group of the ever present scooter drivers waiting at the bottom of the hill to transport lazy or tired trekkers back to the top and as I was in the first category, for $1 I engage one. My legs are very sore the next day from all the steps but I am happy to have had the opportunity to visit these villages and spend a little time amongst these proud hard working people.

The air is so very clean and clear up there and having come from some seriously polluted cities I feel great to have been breathing fresh air.

Listening to comments around Sapa, other tourists had similar hassles in the villages and were also disturbed. It is incredibly intense and I think it’s rather a pity because it mars an otherwise special experience. I’ve put a photograph of a “scrum” of villagers I saw in Sapa. A large group focused on a two of French women who were buying. It’s taken from the balcony outside my room at the hotel and looks back towards the local market.

On a trip to another village the next day, one older Black H'mong woman (called that because of their dress) walked beside me for over half an hour. I thought she was returning to her village. I should have wised up because whenever I stopped to take a photo, she stopped too. Once I had purchased something from her and I think I spent about 50c, she just turned around and went back up the hill into Sapa. I experienced that twice during different walks.

At night time I download my photos over a wine and one of the guides is interested in photography and so I encourage him to have a play with my camera.

On my last night a Singaporean mother and adult daughter pair are about to tuck into a Vietnamese Hot Pot and when they see the mountain of food in front of them ask if I have dined. I hadn’t and so they asked me to join them. I had a very pleasant evening sharing it with them. It’s a dish where diners cook a variety of meat and vegetables in a liquid and then drink the broth. It was very tasty and the company excellent. I felt blessed.

On my final day in Sapa, the train isn’t due to leave until 2115 and so I decide to do a day trip to another market which turns out to be one of the many highlights of my entire trip. I will write about that next time…….


I’m loving……wandering in the fresh air in the countryside. Oh and having long chats with another from downunder.

I’m missing……not much.

Taste sensation…….the hot pot. I’m sure the food at the hotel is tastier because Pete tried to source organic ingredients.

Bargain of the moment…….all the local handicrafts.

I’m surprised……at how much time I spend working out what I’m going to do in a place, where I will stay, how I will get to a place etc.

Photos: Dress shop Cat Cat style (notice the colours of everyday wear),

Home in the mist just out of Sapa on the way to Cat Cat Village, the hill tribe lady who followed me, houses on the way to Ta Phin village and the view approaching Cat Cat.

From the Mists of Sapa

From the Mists of Sapa
North West of Vietnam

As I sit down to write this I am back in Hanoi playing written catch up because I have just had two of the most fascinating but diverse trips – one to Sapa with a side trip to Bac Ha and the second to Halong Bay.

They were both inspiring, but first a little about Sapa. The town is northwest of Hanoi and very close to the border of China. In fact where the train stops, Lao Cai, is about a 20 minute taxi ride to the border crossing and trains leave from here to go to Kunming in China. Sapa is still some 40 minutes away along a narrow winding road and we wend ever higher to reach approximately 1650 meters above sea level and the ever present mist.

By the time I arrived at my destination, The Sapa Rooms Boutique Hotel, (http://www.saparooms.com/) I was very tired. The overnight train trip is about 10 hours and I didn’t sleep well despite feeling very comfortable with the other people in the four berth cabin. I shared with a lovely young British man and a Canadian mother and 23 year old daughter who was well traveled. She had spent a year in NZ doing odd jobs and over a year in China teaching English. There is no such thing as segregating the sexes here! But they were all excellent company and we chatted for some time before lights out.
However, once I arrived at my hotel and was enthusiastically welcomed by Australian Pete and huge breakfast (included in the room rate) any thoughts of tiredness and homesickness banished to the dark recesses of my mind. I was keen to get out there and explore a little, but Sapa was cold…..mainly because of the altitude and heavy mist which obscured the great view from my room. I never did see the view, but I believe it was there.

Pete is almost evangelical about Sapa and after completing a couple of treks myself I could see why. He visited Sapa last year (I think but apologies and a correction is welcome Pete, if I have that wrong) and fell in love with the place. He was sick of the Sydney rat race, managing 120 staff in a computer company and even the great Sydney harbor view from his office couldn’t keep him in Australia. So he bought this run down hotel and is well on the way to transforming it. It’s an excellent place to stay.

The coldest months here are January and February but from March to May my guide book says the weather is often excellent. The prime time for visiting the region though is September to mid December plus the Festival of the Clouds which occurs during May – I just missed it thankfully because the hotels in the town were full.

Because of the cold, for the first time since Thailand, I was able to wear my jeans. Oh yeah! Although this will sound rather sick, I was so happy to be back in jeans. But even with several layers of clothing including a merino top and my great lightweight, all purpose Marmot windbreaker, I was still cold.

However, the friendliness of the local H’mong people who wander the streets in their multi colored and layered finery with huge smiles (see photo) helped to banish some of the cold I was feeling. Of course they were always trying to sell me something….anything…..they just wanted me to buy from them. Sometimes I would duck into a shop to try to evade them but no chance….they’d just wait outside the shop their lovely open faces peering in waiting. The shop owners who pay for their display space and other business overheads seem remarkably tolerant of these hill-tribe people wandering the streets garnering sales where they can.

Their English is quite good and they continually ask questions “where are you from….what is your name…..what is your age…..are you married….do you have children…….”? When they hear that I have two sons the younger girls get very excited and want to know their age. When I tell them, they ask if they can come to my home with me so that they can marry my lads!

During my first afternoon in Sapa I opt for a nap and instead sleep very deeply for several hours. After I woke, I wandered downstairs to the news that they had just made a roasted pumpkin and chicken soup which I order along with a fresh crunchy baguette and it was absolutely divine.

I love the art work around the hotel. Pete has engaged an artist to help him to make the space creative. He is making light shades from the local fabric, different tables, couches and a lot of pottery etc which is displayed in all nooks and crannies. I fell in love with a pottery head. The one I’ve shown in the photo was in my bedroom and the gorgeous flowers are grown locally. Later, when I returned to Hanoi I visited Tiep’s (the artists) studio to try to buy one to ship back to New Zealand but the few he had left weren’t suitable for me. I felt very disappointed.

While I am up at the hotel, they install a new reception top. It’s fascinating to see the local men working away with primitive gear as they install the hand made top. It is cut from a special tree from a village nearby.

For my second day I decided to take a guide and go to a village about 17kms from Sapa. This village has a reputation for wonderful hand embroidery and I really look forward to it. The day was extraordinary, on several levels, but more about that later.

I’m missing…..home. I got very homesick during the train trip because the 23 year old wanted to talk about the marvelous time she had in NZ and as she reminisced and enthused to the other two about our wonderful country her memory needed a little help about places and things and I too was taken on a mental trip back home.

Best coffee……none. Again!

Favourite food…..Pete’s pumpkin soup using his grandmother’s recipe. Yum. Yum.

Bargain of the moment…….just about anything in Sapa. I bought a small hand woven bag for about $3, a blouse for $5 etc

I’m loving….......the fresh air and quiet especially after the pollution and excessive noise in Hanoi.

What I’m reading….....another Nora Roberts – Blue Smoke. It’s escapism!

Travelers love……helpful and friendly hotel staff. It makes SUCH a difference to the enjoyment of a place and to getting the most out of your time there.