Of course, I had never been to Sa Pa before, and this time I went there in a daze, as if I were exploring a land that no one had ever set foot on. I didn’t check the weather, think about the restaurants I would go to, or make a specific schedule. Even though I had time to do all of that. The reason was probably because I relied on my friend to take care of everything. And also, I didn’t want to thoroughly research a new place that I would arrive at in a few days. That’s why, for me, the days in Sa Pa weren’t really a trip – I didn’t get to rest on this trip.
It takes about 7 hours to get to Sapa town by bus from the center of Hanoi. We left at 10:30 pm on the weekend and arrived at the pick-up and drop-off point at 5:30 am the next morning. The bus stopped right in front of a pho con sui restaurant. We called a taxi to go back to our homestay to drop off our things and then returned to the restaurant for breakfast.
I have never been to a pho restaurant that was so crowded. The rows of tables were packed with people, groups of five or ten kept coming in. That morning it was so crowded that customers had to line up to get a ticket, wait for the pho to be made, then bring it to the table to eat.
Originally a Chinese dish, but because they often trade near the border, this dish gradually became popular in Lao Cai and became famous here. A full bowl of Con Sui, with pieces of pho floating among the crunchy peanuts, sliced meat and crispy fried potato strands, made me feel very strange. Like Con Sui, the other dishes I tasted in Sa Pa - on the roadside or in the restaurant - were not too special, but enough to make me happy and enjoy for a moment. On this occasion, I tried the chestnut cake, which I saw every few steps. Although I found myself liking it very much, I did not buy any to bring back to Hanoi, thinking of saving it as a reason to return to Sa Pa later.
Ethnic people in the center of Sa Pa town.
The center of Sa Pa town, like my impression of the row of sand dunes, was full of people. Tourists like us - the most numerous people on the street - all looked excited and cheerful. Honestly, I didn't feel very excited and cheerful. Because whenever I went out, I had to keep a tissue ready, waiting for the sweat to run down so I could soak it up. But I liked to watch the ethnic women, their ankles wrapped in velvet, walking in small groups and talking in a language I didn't understand. I also looked curiously at the many little boys and girls; carrying a tiny baby on their backs; holding jingling silver necklaces, stacks of colorful handmade jewelry; wandering around looking for a tourist to cling to and sell their wares.
On Sapa, we met children
We ourselves have experienced that kind of aggressive solicitation, a sales style that the friend who was with us firmly objected to and the other friend found very annoying. It was the morning we went down to Ta Van village. The car stopped at a bend and we walked deep into the village. From somewhere, three children ran out, naturally following the three adults, asking questions (probably) taught to make friends with tourists. The older child told me a few trivial stories as we made our way down to the stream: about the hut people were building to stay in to watch the rice, about the two neighbors Tam and An who lived at the beginning of the village (she immediately exclaimed that they had the same name as me after I introduced myself). And to send a thank you for accompanying her, I bought her a gift decorated with fabric and bells, for 20,000 VND. As a very natural consequence, the two remaining children then sadly followed the three adults on the way back, hoping that another naive adult would relent and buy more.
Honestly, I don’t mind that. I just feel sorry for the children having to stay out in the sun for too long, and also feel guilty for dragging my two friends into this situation. Of course, if you go to Sa Pa, you shouldn’t agree to buy anything from the children, because that money will become the motivation for them to continue that work forever without knowing when to stop. And also to avoid being “surrounded” by children with sad voices, or chattering, urging you to choose something from the stack of handmade bracelets.
Terraced fields in Ta Van village.
Cable car to the top of Fansipan.
In addition to Ta Van village, we also reached the top of Fansipan, checking in at the highest place in the three Indochina countries amidst the crowded sea of people; and went to O Quy Ho pass to "hunt clouds" (this time I did not participate but rested in the room because my battery was "out of power").
As I said before, I did not have a chance to rest for several days in Sa Pa. The heat and inconvenience turned this trip into an experience, not an enjoyment. But I was satisfied and content with the experience. Because it made me remember. Sometimes, when I was bored, I would absentmindedly think about the difficult slopes, the healthy rosy cheeks of the ethnic children, the voices of people trying to sell goods, or the stairs on the Hoang Lien Son mountain range.
In a few months, or a few years, there will come a time when I will long to return to Sa Pa. Return to Sa Pa to eat chestnut cakes. Or to climb the O Quy Ho peak, alone, watching the clouds roll down the mountain like a waterfall. Or to see if the children still cling to the tourists, begging them to buy them a colorful bracelet with an annoying persistence. But I will definitely not return to Sa Pa on a July day. I want to experience something more, with a more comfortable and leisurely mindset.
