Sa Pa: A Hiker’s Mecca?

The sound of a radio blaring across the street at 5:30 AM served as our alarm on the day we were to leave for Sa Pa. We took our time, savouring the views and slightly cooler weather as we travelled further North. Among our stops was a visit to a view point set apart by their variety of questionable platforms overlooking the valley. Built at least 8 feet in the air, I must say that the lack of safety measures such as railings, served for a much better viewing experience.

Supposedly, the north western town of Sa Pa was a hiking mecca and a paradise of rice fields. I could tell we were nearing its edge when I started to see flashes blonde hair whipping past me on the roads. So far, the only blonde person in sight for the past week and a half had been Jared, and we had been the only foreigners in most of the small towns along the way. But here they were, fellow Westerners in khaki shorts, wireframe Ray-Bans, and dinky little helmets zipping past us in increasing numbers as we closed in.

Set amongst rolling hills and deep valleys, Sa Pa has been built in the French Colonial style on the angled slope of one of these hillsides. After the relative quiet of the country roads and homely towns, the city was a shock to the senses. In classic Vietnamese fashion, a cacophony of sounds, smells, and traffic rushed to meet us. The narrow road merging off the country highway immediately filled with more scooters, delivery vans, passenger shuttles, and luxury SUVs. Gazing down the hill through an excavated lot, we could see the pool of a ‘luxury’ hotel complete with a grand piano centred in the middle of the water. Up the hill, we noted another hotel located next to a demolished building with balcony doors that led to partially demolished balconies. Our eyes struggled to land anywhere as neon signs flashed from every store advertising The North Face merchandise, 30-minute massages, and fries with ‘humbergers’.

Fortunately, our lodging was 12 km past the city limits in a Hmong homestay. We spent the rest of the day looking out over the surrounding rice field while catching up on some reading. For dinner, we opted to join the “family” style dinner with the other guests and our homestay family. It was delicious and varied: spring rolls, chicken stir fry, roasted, duck, fava beans, and rice. Little did we know that joining family dinner also meant non-negotiable participation in the post-dinner drinking game as well. Husband introduced the drinking game, placing two plastic bowls of homemade rice wine on the table - one for women and one for men. Also set on the table was a large plastic water bottle into which two chopsticks zap-strapped together in a cross were placed. We were to hit the chopstick and whoever it pointed to had to drink - a variation on spin the bottle. No one was allowed to leave until we finished both bowls. As luck would have it, the husband and wife seemed to lose the most. After making it through the game, plus a refill, we made our escape to our room and to sleep.

I blame peer pressure for our decision to partake in a guided day trip the next day organized by the ecovilla. As a last minute decision and spurred by the reviews from fellow lodgers, we set out at 9 AM on a 7-hour ‘trek’ that was advertised to consist of a tour of three Hmong villages, a waterfall, trek up the mountain, and visiting the Red Dao - another ethnic minority local to this region. With our Hmong guide and what seemed like two of her friends, we weaved our way through a collection of small houses with the heat of the day already settling in before ascending a large shadeless hill. The sun and humidity were brutal, and all we could hope for was that the view at the top would be worth it. It wasn’t. Upon reaching a rocky surface that overlooked the surrounding valley, we found it to be a tepid and smokey version of view points we had already seen along the way. Adding insult to injury, our guide’s ‘friends’ turned out to trinket peddlers. Having reached a point at which we couldn’t escape, the women produced a variety of “handmade” brass and woven bracelets, scarves, and cloth bags from their baskets.

Once we bought enough to barely satisfy the women, we continued our sweaty climb up the rest of the mountain, joining another group of tourists who were no doubt regretting their decision to come on this particular tour. We stopped for lunch at the top of the mountain in the courtyard of a dilapidated school. The children, let loose by their teacher, came running towards us, “hellowhatisyournamewhereareyoufrom?” they asked over and over. However, they soon lost interest in us, returning to some small pots of paint they shared, squatting on their haunches, and painting the concrete courtyard ground with some slender sticks they had found. Watching them, some with shoes, most without, all quite dirty and obviously hungry, I’ve never felt so privileged in my life. Lunch and rest over, our guide gathered our water bottles and other waste in a plastic shopping bag and chucked it over the courtyard walls. I suppose that answered our question of waste disposal.

I wish I could say that the tour improved, but it seems like sharing lunch with the school children was the highlight of the day, save for seeing a banana flower for the first time in my life. We trailed our guide down the mountain via a series of switchbacks as she made several voice calls in typical Vietnamese fashion: over speakerphone. Then for the following three hours we walked along the side of the road back to our homestay, but not before visiting the Red Dao. This ‘visit’ turned out to be another shopping opportunity, just in case we hadn’t the chance to buy enough earlier in the day. As we passed by the group of women, distinct for their shaved heads and eyebrows and bright red head scarves, two began trailing us. Our guide thoughtfully stopped under a shaded awning so we could have some reprieve from the sun as they showed us their wares. Needless to say, we couldn’t wait to return back to the homestay and get out of Sa Pa. I suppose this was not what we were expecting when we set out for the day, but it’s a reality of tourism that one can’t ignore.

All in all, I’d recommend skipping Sa Pa if one can help it.