Susan was upset...there was a strange man in her train cabin. On our night train to Sapa, the person who got our tickets for us did not check that we were given 4 bunks in the same cabin. It turned out that the Aussie bagpacker had insisted on a lower bunk, and the only one left was in our cabin.
I didn't mind using the upper bunk in another cabin, but Susan and Debbie tried their best to rectify the error...to no avail.
Anyway, the bunk was clean and the duvet warm and comfy, and soon I was lulled to sleep by the rocking motion of the the train and the clacking of the wheels on the rails. Susan didn't sleep a wink!
At 6am we were woken by the train conductor as Lao Cai approached. Nobody was very keen to get off the train, but soon everyone was pouring out of the train doors and into the cold morning air to search for our names on pieces of paper held up by tour guides. We searched in vain, and had to wait for the next train from Hanoi to arrive (30 mins later), before our guide appeared. We were all crammed into a minivan (this seems to be the modus operandi for tour operators in Vietnam) and driven an hour to Sapa, higher up the Muong Hoa valley.
I watched the terraced ricefields come into view through the mist. That view of them never got any clearer throughout our stay there. We were all dumped into the lobby of "
Emotion Hotel" at one end of the town, on the road to
Cat Cat ("Kaka")Village. Breakfast was an interesting affair: there was Pho, and rice rolls which was dipped into nuoc nam (fish sauce). eggs were cooked to order, and beehoon and cabbage were served, but fast disappeared.
At 9.30am, our guide
Duan arrived, dressed in white shirt, black jacket, black trousers and black dress shoes, toting a large umbrella. Quite a contrast to our sport gear! He is a marketing grad from Hanoi University (his father had to sell 5 buffalo @ USD1000 each) to fund his education. But his mum told him to get back to Sapa to work. His English was strange, but we tried our best to understand! "I think so" is what he liked to say!
We walked on the mud splattered road down the hill to Cat Cat Village. Twice, Duan had to pay some kind of "entrance fee" for us. We passed a small house where a small primitive weaving loom and dyeing equipment were shown to us.
As it was the Lunar New Year, the Hmong tribal people were in traditional costume, walking up to Sapa to market. Some came by us to sell woven goods. Later we walked down some steep stairs
to cross a bridge and then view a waterfall. This was our first view of the tributary of the Red River that runs in this valley from the highest mountain in Vietnam, Fan Si Pan. We were supposedly at the foot of this mountain, but we couldn't see any of it!
A pleasant walk on a track followed, winding our way back to Sapa. Motorbikes were offered to send us up on the last steep stretch, but we elected to walk back. It was not to difficult as we went slowly, and had our
Lekis.
After lunch at "Emotion Hotel", we walked to our hotel, while our bags were transported via motorbikes! The three-star Bamboo Sapa Hotel reminded me of some old unkempt Malaysian hotel. Everything was provided, but the infrastructure was all creaking! Debbie was freezing even when the portable heater was next to her bed!
We settled into our rooms, and my travelling companions went exploring the town, while I recuperated in bed! Duan came by again to bring us to a hotpot restaurant near the Church for dinner. Then we ran home in the cold mist and jumped into our warm beds.
The next day it rained, so Duan said that we would ride in the van part of the way to Lao Cai village. After a short winding ride, we were dropped off on the road to continue on foot. Soon we came to a turnoff, continuing on a track to the village. Our fellow walkers (visitors from HCM City), who were not at all togged out for trekking, bought plastic ponchos, slippers, umbrellas, and walking sticks to help them along.
From here, the persistent Hmong women started to stick to us like leeches, trying to make conversation with the stock English questions that they had learnt. The tracks took us past the Red Dzao village, through the ricefields and to our lunch venue. It took an hour for our guide to prepare lunch of noodle soup, while most in the group warmed themselves by a coal brazier.
Off we went again on the muddy, flooded tracks and passed by the Dzay village. Our Vietnamese friends took a van back to town and later to the night train, but we headed for our home stay. The walk through the rice terraces were our introduction to what was to come the next day.
But first, we had to come to terms with our "homestay" which turned out to be a communal hall downstairs and a gallery upstairs around which were laid out mattresses and heavy blankets...shock and horror...! but we kept ourselves busy by sitting by the coal fire trying to keep warm. I was glad for my parka and fleece vest. Soon a German couple installed themselves upstairs for a snooze, and later 8 French tourists took up residence on one side of the gallery. Were we envious when they told us that they were eqipped with "sarcophage" sleeping bags!
Dinner began with an appetizer of French fries, which quickly disappeared. 30 mins later, a copious meal was served from the kitchen outside the main building. More desultory conversation followed between tired travellers unwilling to face the uncomfortable "beds" upstairs, but inevitably, we had to bite the bullet, wrap ourselves as tightly as possible in the thick blankets, and settle in for the night.
The guides took their time to wake up. Nobody was interested in taking a cold shower, but we all took turns to share the one toilet provided. An interesting kind of banana pancake was served for breakfast. Duan took us on a circuitous route further up the terraces, and the French walkers, taking the more direct (steeper) route were soon way ahead of us. The trouble was that the paths between the rice padis were muddy from the rain the night before and we were doing more "sinking" than walking! Fortunately the native women were by our side (or at least my side) to keep o
ur balance. Debbie, being more fit than the rest of us, got way ahead with her 2 "helpers". I was inevitably the last in line, towed along by my 40-year old Hmong guide.Duan says i fell twice, but I remember only once tumbling to my knees. Leaving the ricefields, we walked through a bamboo forest, encountering a lost buffalo in our path enroute. After giving a passing glance to a kind of dry waterfall, we descended the last terrifying slope that looked more like a landslide! I took only 1 photo for that day's walk, and that was a view of this "slide".
Recovering from the walk by the river, while washing the mud off our boots, we were obliged to buy some of the goods peddled by the women. One even followed me to the lunch stop showing me her bracelets which were "si jolie" at 1USD for 3.
The ingredients for lunch had followed us from the homestay, hung in a bag on the hook of Duan's umbrella. Soon, he was boiling the noodle soup that had been on the menu the previous day as well.
Up we walked to the main road on a thankfully dry slope, and were ferried back to "Emotion Hotel" in a SUV. There, we found that there was no electricity in the hotel, but we managed to change into some cleaner clothes before dinner. After dinner...yes you guessed it...crammed into the minivan again for the trip down to Lao Cai.
We were early for the train, so there was some waiting around in the ticket office. Large crowds were waiting patiently for the trains to Hanoi. There were 3 that night. To Susan's great relief, there was no stranger in her cabin this time. All of us were too tired from our "great walk" that day to notice how many times the train stopped that night. The next thing we knew, it was 5.30am in Hanoi and we trooped out of the rail station to a...what else..Pho kitchen.
A taxi driver who had worked in Klang took us and our 4 suitcases in a car that looked like a Nissan March to our hotel, where we had to wake up the staff, as they usually do not open their locked doors till about 7am daily.
Our adventurous day in Hanoi followed. A week after we left Singapore, we retraced our flight by Vietnam Airlines. The flight was very comfortable, although the aircraft was packed to capacity. It was certainly more calm in the cabin than the chaotic situation in the airport departure terminal where all passengers on international flights stood in one queue! 3 hours flew by quickly, and soon we found ourselves far away from the beeping motorbikes and cars on the congested streets of Hanoi. We landed in hot and orderly Singapore, glad to be home.
We stopped by a fruit stand in Kundasang, the vegetable garden of Sabah. Whole valleys in this region are filled with small holdings of fruit, vegetable and (mountain) rice farmers. We inspected fruit that we don't often see in singapore, like "buah salat" known as "snake skin fruit" in Chinese. We bought a bag of "duku" which was juicy and sweet. 
Tumbling out onto the exit road, we found ourselves in the vicinity of the Balsam cafe, where Susan refused to have the expensive and watery coffee. Fortunately, our private transport back to Kota Kinabalu was waiting to save us from melting in the fierce heat of the mid-afternoon sun.
