16. The ethnic minorities of Sapa, northwest of Vietnam

By Filipe Morato Gomes	Where is Sapa?
I trekked in the mountains surrounding Sapa, in the northeast of Vietnam, no more than a night train journey away from capital Hanoi. These were days in the mountains surrounded by Vietnamese ethnic minorities with they own beliefs, culture, way of dressing and… rice wine. No matter if you like big cities like Hanoi or trekking in a mountainous rural region, Vietnam is an amazing country for a traveller.

I longed for visiting the northwest part of Vietnam. It is there, in the region of Sapa, near the border with China, where many of the ethnic minorities live. Some still use typical clothes, still have old habits as well as unique cultures and preserve their own dialects which are indecipherable for the common Vietnamese. Sapa was my next destination. I decided to take a night train from Hanoi main railway station going to Lao Cai; from there I would go up the mountains heading for Sapa, the main centre to explore the region and find trekking companions.

Dao woman in Sapa, Vietnam

As soon as I arrived in Sapa, it seemed that an uncommon bustle was installed all over the town. Sapa was exceptionally colourful. It was market day, as I could soon find out. Hundreds of people wearing strange clothes went along the streets of the village. The nearby communities, from various ethnic minorities, go to Sapa every Saturday to buy goods and sell their products. I had arrived on the perfect day. Curious, all of a sudden I was immersed in the market - great bustle, people everywhere, different faces, friendly folks. I stopped at a strategic point, and let me stand there, observing, enchanted with my camera ready for what might turn up.

Most of the people were from the Black H'mong ethnic group, wearing their unmistakable Indian-blue clothes. Mostly women, very young or very old. They used persuasive sales techniques, showing great confidence. And even some humour, if a traveller was able to face them in an easy-going way. I have been on the road for about three months and so street vendors, taxi drivers, shop-assistants, restaurant waiters and others alike do not disturb me with their persistence anymore.

- “You buy from me?”, an H'mong young girl having no more than nine or ten years old asked me in a very basic English, as she showed me some handcrafted merchandise.
- “No, thank you”, I answered, smiling.
- “Why not?” she asked immediately, as if I had to have a reason not to buy.
- “I don't need it, thanks”, I made up an excuse.
- “Why no need?”, she insisted.
- “I already have one”, I admitted. To tell the truth I had bought a similar object some minutes before from another even younger H'mong girl. But she didn't give up:
- “You need two. One for you, one for your girlfriend”, she persuaded.
I said no, she asked why not, I gave up. Signs of a each day more frequent contact with foreign tourists, I suppose.

Making bamboo pipes in the mountains near Sapa, Vietnam

However my attention aimed mainly at the elements of Dao tribe, always smiling and kind, less selfish than the neighbours H'mong. They were also easily distinguishable by the ornament worn by all the women on their heads. It was a sort of extremely bright-red hat which looked very nice indeed. I happened to meet them again later in the surrounding mountains, and check that they are genuinely kind and nothing bothersome, even when they try to sell their handcraft.

When the odyssey in the market finished and after a late breakfast, I joined a group of five other people and we left for a trekking through the mountains in the region.

On the second walking day, when we got to a village inhabit by Thai ethnic minority people, excellent farmers who live on the fertile banks of the streams, an enormous surprise was waiting for us. In two days' time it would take place the marriage of one of the hosts' daughters, so intense preparations were already taking place. Relatives who lived in the surroundings were arriving one after the other; they meant pairs of extra arms to help. The great haste was intense. They cleaned and prepared the area where the marriage party would take place. From time to time a pig, followed by another one, arrived with the legs tied, creaking, prepared for the slaughter. New bamboo pipes were made just in front of me; even new bamboo rose-painted chopsticks had been prepared for the wedding meal and were drying in the weak sun of the late afternoon.

A family from Thai ethnic group at her home, northern Vietnam

At night, men and women had their meals in separate places. The women talked cheerfully while on a bamboo mat which served as table for the group of men, bottles of rice wine passed freely from hand to hand. I was invited for a toast with our host. Drunk at once as tradition demands. I them toasted with the brother. Next with the cousin. And I do not know with who else. A glass of rice wine, another one, and another one, without having the chance to refuse because that would mean offending Thai hospitality.

Fortunately, the rice wine was not that strong. It was like a Portuguese brandy but with less alcohol. I went to sleep late at night but I felt satisfied. I wish all the luck to the marriage couple. And yeah, I do hope the rice wine does not end during the wedding party!

(originally written in Portuguese)

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