Going from Vietnam to Laos, The Hard Way

The journey from Sapa, Vietnam, to Muang Khua, Laos, was a long one; it was often uncomfortable and at times frustrating but we were also able to see some of the most stunning scenery in the region.

We started at 7am in Sapa, in a minibus that sped around hairpin mountain passes as if it could defy gravity. The morning was probably one of the clearest we had during our five days in Sapa and the views over Mount Fanxipan and the peaks were amazing. Bend after bend revealed more beautiful mountains as cool air rushed in through the open windows. So far so good.

Leaving Sapa.

Scenic spot where we stopped for lunch.

It took eight hours for us to reach Dien Bien Phu, where we stayed the night. During the drive Ric got a sick bag splattered in his face and we had to stop twice while the road was cleared after a landslide.

Dien Bien Phu is where the French we defeated once and for all by the Vietnamese, ending their rule over Indochina. The town is of great importance to the Vietnamese and a huge war memorial looms over the town, providing us with a great vantage point for sunset. As Dien Bien Phu was our last stop before leaving Vietnam, Ric uncharacteristically set me loose in the supermarket and suggested I spend the remainder of our Vietnamese money! I was in my element. It seems not that many tourists visit DBP, I posed for more photos with gangs of school kids in one evening than I have during 7 weeks in Vietnam! Two little lads followed us around for ages giggling and occasionally blurting out random things in English. In spite of its historical importance, DBP is seriously lacking in the restaurant department and we went to bed hungry after a bland meal of rice and fried tofu.

 

My fans.

Sunset over Dien Bien Phu, from the war memorial.

The next day we got up at 4:45am to start our journey into Laos. What a farce! The bus eventually set off at 5:30, crawling along the streets, and stopping every 50 yards to big up cargo. This was a minibus, not a lorry yet the driver and his pal spent the next two hours driving up and down the same street filling the bus with all sorts of produce set to be transported into Laos. Rice, pig feed, fish feed, plastic bottles, flat pack wardrobes, car parts, bedding… we had it all crammed around our shoulders. At 8am we finally left DBP. Three hours sat on the bus and we hadn’t even left town. At least the company was good: a lady on the bus took it upon herself to buy and feed us a breakfast of eggs and meat samosas.

At the border Ric was reminded why he doesn’t let me shop very often; we didn’t have enough money for our visas! The border crossing was much more expensive than we expected and we ended up paying all the extra ‘fees’ to the border officials in a mixture of dollars, Vietnam dong and Thai baht.

 

Sitting comfortably.

At the border, our already full bus received an extra 12 passengers that squeezed themselves in on top of rice sacks, in between slabs of wood and on my feet! To add to the relaxing atmosphere the driver put on some traditional Vietnamese music, full blast. Vietnamese music is truly terrible: high pitched wind instruments accompany even higher pitched warbling distorted with the echo effect usually found on karaoke machines. The bus’s speakers crackled and strained under the pressure.

Eventually we arrived in Muang Khua, not our intended destination but as with Dien Bien Phu, a necessary stop to break up a long journey. Muang Khua is a tiny town nestled in the mountains between Laos and Vietnam; its wooden stilt houses, dirt roads and narrow alleys make it a charming place to wander around and the restaurants and bars lining the Nam Ou river make for a peaceful place to enjoy a beer and get into some blog writing. 

We walked across a terrifying wooden suspension bridge that creaked and shook as motorbikes zoomed across it, and then strolled through dusty lanes until we reached a primary school on the edge of the town. A few little boys rushed over to Ric and dangled themselves off his arms. 

Play time, Muong Khua

The lovely brown Nam Ou River with the scary bridge in the distance.

The colourful town center.

We Stayed At...

Manh Chay Guest House, on the main road. Good room, friendly owner, $10/£6.

Trekking in Sapa

On leaving Hanoi our overnight travel karma finally came around and sorted us out with a great sleeper train. No rats, no urine, no over eager locals to ruin our game of scrabble. The carriage was almost empty and we had a cabin to ourselves for half of the ten hour journey. We were in the cheapest sleeper carriage with hard beds and hideous toilets but the next carriage down was first class and we were able to sneak in and use pristine porcelain during the night. 

We arrived in Sapa, up in the mountains on the Chinese border, at around 9am and were met with the blissfully cool temperature of 1,500m altitude. Within seconds of us stepping foot in the town we were surrounded by hotel owners shouting to have their rates heard over one another. Among the hotel touts were half a dozen local tribes women in traditional dress bombarding us with offers of shopping, trekking, 'visit my village', and all manner of other offers designed to part us with our money. We tried to escape them by ducking into a cafe for a coffee but they followed us. It was a bombardment. Not a great first impression of the town but after a few days we found it funny watching these women flock after tourists like ducklings following their mother.

Sapa's main square (which is actually an oval) with the Fanxipan mountain range behind.

The area around Sapa is home to many different ethnic minorities that settled in the fertile mountains hundred of years ago. The largest tribe is the Black H'mong, who live in villages around the town and make a living harassing tourists. The other major ethnic minorities are the Red Dao, Tay, Xa Pho, Giay. Each tribe has a distinct language, religion and clothing, for example, the Black H'mong are so called because their traditional clothing is black-dyed hemp.

It's possible to visit some of the ethnic minority villages by trekking out of the town into the mountains. Our first trek was to the tourist-friendly village of Cat Cat, an easy 20 minute downhill walk out of Sapa. The village itself was totally geared towards tourism, with handicraft shops lining the street and signs in English. The best part of our hike was the return to Sapa where we turned off the main road and walked alone through luscious farm land in the valley. 

Children pass the shops in Cat Cat village.

View from Cat Cat towards Mt. Fanxipan (hidden by cloud).

For the real hiking we got ourselves a guide, Jiao, a Black H'mong lady from Sapa Sisters Trekking Company. We set off for a steep climb to Hang Da village where we stopped for lunch at Jiao's grandmother's house. We gathered around the fire pit in the kitchen of the mud-floored wooden house as Jiao and her 95 year old grandmother prepared a lunch of rice fried pork with vegetables and soup. Inside the house was dark, with only one fluorescent bulb lighting the alter where Jiao's grandfather, the village shaman, performs his ritual blessings.

Cooking with guide Jiao and her grandmother.

After a lunch we said goodbye to the grandmother and started a steep and slippery decent down the other side of the mountain. I barely managed to stay on two feet as we skidded and slid down the clay-like mud; it was extra slippery as it had just started to drizzle with rain. We descended through recently harvested terraces of rice and corn. Jiao pointed out the marijuana plants that the H'mong plant among the corn; they harvest the hemp to make clothing, apparently. 

Looking out over a local school.

We arrived at Lao Chai village at the bottom of the valley and crossed the river to find flocks of H'mong ladies with their baskets full of 'shopping' waiting to follow us with their wares. On the far side of the village we climbed steeply again, losing our ducklings, to Jiao's sister's house where we were to stay the night. The house was similar to Jiao's grandmother's house, only the clouds had cleared from the valley to reveal a beautiful sunset over the terraced rice paddies. On the opposite side of the valley we could see the ridge of the mountain where we'd eaten lunch. Jiao's sister, Xu, had just finished harvesting the rice in her fields and was celebrating with the neighbours that had helped her in the labourious task. The family had killed a pig in honour of our arrival and in order to celebrate the harvest. We ate ALL of the beast: ground bones and fried bamboo, pork fat noodles, intestines fried with cabbage, blood soup... for the most part it was disgusting, but at the same time it was great to see how no part of the animal was wasted. It made me think how unethical it is to kill a pig and only eat the meat, or to kill a chicken and only eat the breast. That said, I don't have any plans to start eating bone any time soon.

Rice terraces with the mountain emerging from the clouds.

The ridge on the other side of the valley where we stopped for lunch.

Our home for the night.

After our interesting dinner the men of the village went to bed, too drunk after the celebration. The women stayed up to ply us with extremely potent rice wine; one by one the ladies approached us with a shot to welcome us to their home. Once everybody had welcomed us it turned into a pattern of gestures, awkward laughter and yet more shots. The children of the village eventually warmed to us and approached with their school books keen to practice English. There was a lovely merry atmosphere around the table and we felt really welcomed into the lives of our hosts. After a visit to the village toilet, positioned next to a fish pond - very dangerous after a few shots of "happy water", we went to sleep under a star-filled clear sky.

Helping the children with their homework after dinner.

The next morning we were up at the crack of dawn with the roosters and the children. The family prepared a feast for breakfast and we ate happily before heading off to Te Van village where H'mong and Dao tribes live together. Most of the people in the villages we visited live very traditional lives; they are farmers who grow their own food and raise their own animals. Most houses don't have bathrooms; bathing and toilet business is done in the stream. Meals are cooked over an open fire. Despite knowing about the toilet in the river business, we still couldn't resist swimming in the river, the cool water was just too tempting in the humid morning heat.

Jiao's niece in traditional H'mong clothing.

We ended our trek with a delicious lunch in a local restaurant, after passing waterfalls and more stunning scenery. We barely saw another tourists during the whole two days and it was amazing to be out in the mountains by ourselves. Our guide Jiao was really lovely, if not a little bonkers, and meeting and staying with her family was such a special experience.

Back in Sapa we passed time admiring nearby Mount Fanxipan, the highest mountain in Indochina, and eating in the many traveler restaurants lining the streets. 

How To Get To...

Cat Cat Village: follow the signs, walk down the hill.

Sapa Sisters: 9 Fansipan St. sapasisters@gmail.com 

It's worth mentioning that according to our guide, Sapa Sisters is one of the more ethical agencies in town, they employ local women as guides and pay them a fair rate. Jiao told us the local Tourist Information Service provides tours that only pay the guides $7/£4 per day!

We Stayed At...

We stayed in two different hotels in Sapa, before and after our trek: Hotel Mimosa had stunning views, great rooms but terrible service (never anybody around to help us), $10/£6 per night. Graceful Hotel is where Sapa Sisters are located, the room was a bit rubbish but the beds were comfortable (a rarity in Asia), $10/£6 per night.