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……
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……
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