Hmong woman

Sapa's a former French hill station, and now, after years of being deserted due to war, is the premier tourist attraction of Northwest Vietnam. It's at an elevation of 1600 m, and is cold! I'm freezing, because the only warm clothes I have is the fleece I threw in my pack as an afterthought, and none of the buildings are heated. I feel like I'm back in Nepal.

I've been told it's very beautiful here, but it is so foggy, the valley is obscured. It is also drizzling nonstop. Not surprisingly, I've picked up a sore throat and runny nose.

The thing to do here is trek to hill tribe villages, an activity that's never appealed to me because of the human zoo atmosphere. But, since I'm not fighting the system, I booked a short trek today, and a six-hour one for tomorrow.

Today's trek was short indeed; I could have just walked there myself. But my guide did take me into one of the Hmong houses, a shocking experience. The poverty they live in is some of the worst I've seen. There's no way to stay warm in their small, dirty shack. My visit was an opportunity for them to hock their wares, and I felt obligated to buy something.

The hill tribe people make some beautiful stuff, such as colorful hemp fiber handbags. But the old women and little girls who prowl the streets selling them hound you relentlessly, and will not take “no” for an answer. Never before have I encountered such persistence.

Sapa is beautiful at night. The Vietnamese take pride in their buildings, and construct them in a sort of neo-French Colonial style, and paint them in pastel colors. It's all lit up at night. Strolling down the street would be pleasant, if it weren't for the roving gangs of hill tribe women, and the crazy old man shouting at everyone.