Nomadic steppes - lost in the dancing grasses of the Central Highlands

When the wind blows, it feels like you're swimming amidst waves of grass. It's no longer a single, monotonous blade of grass, but one that dances together with the wind, rising and falling like grasses in a symphony.

I had known about this green grassland in Ea Sol commune for quite some time, but I was still fascinated by the adventurous old-growth forests and majestic waterfalls hidden away in the Central Highlands. I thought that after traversing the magnificent grassy hills of the South, a small grassy hill wouldn't be enough to satisfy my wanderlust. Finally, with an invitation from Mr. Hien – a local in Ea H'leo – I decided to set off with my friends to Dak Lak in the middle of the rainy season, when the grass covered the hills in green and the cool, humid air dispelled the heat of the region.

At 7 PM, seven pairs of restless feet were discussing past trips, from relaxing vacations to exhausting journeys on buses, admiring the scenery along the way or exploring new lands beyond Vietnam's borders. The atmosphere at the old Eastern Bus Station was no longer bustling, but with the excitement of anticipating tomorrow's exploration of the grasslands, they didn't mind. On the bus, there was still the characteristic noise of a local bus route, from people returning home to visit family and friends. The rest of the group chose their own quiet; one woman texted a relative about the two-day signal loss, another chose to go to bed early to have enough energy to see the new land the next day, or they listened to the stories of others on the bus, wondering what interesting things this new place had to offer.

Having traveled extensively in the Central Highlands before, I assumed the weather here wouldn't be cold, but rather pleasantly cool, so I didn't bring a jacket. But I forgot about Ea H'Leo, a region surrounded by wind turbines, with year-round winds and a gloomy sky. The August rainy season at an altitude of over 600 meters above sea level makes the already chilly highland air even colder. With the cool morning air, a hot cup of coffee in Ea Drăng town, with its rich Central Highlands flavor, was something I simply couldn't resist.

Having enjoyed themselves enough, the group had to continue towards Ayun Pa town, but they hadn't reached it yet, only the border between Dak Lak and Gia Lai. Stepping out of the car, the weather changed rapidly; a gust of wind dispersed the gray clouds, giving way to a blue sky and intense sunlight. The journey began at a small Jrai (Gia Rai) village, through cornfields and then through the humid forest. The wind in this area helped to alleviate the heat, but couldn't completely dispel it. I especially remember the fragrant, delicious rice paddies in the red basalt soil. At first, I thought it was just green grass, but I was surprised to see them planted in neat rows. And remembering the sparse forests, or dry dipterocarp forests, that dominate Dak Lak, the grassy hills here immediately reminded me of this type of forest. It's a depressing sight for those who love mountains and forests, and often makes them think of the heat.

The group forgot about the long slope behind them and ignored the scorching heat of the Central Highlands, sitting idly and gazing at the endless rolling hills covered in lush green cogon grass. Occasionally, a dark green dot of a wild banyan tree, with its various rugged shapes, braved the wind. They watched the cogon grass blades sway incessantly, welcoming them to this verdant grassland. In the distance, the wind swept through the hills, seemingly unable to withstand the gentle breeze, yet it rose again. The wind stirred the grass, making it sway like waves, sometimes gentle, sometimes fierce, a constant, captivating sight for those who appreciate beauty.

Standing on this hilltop and looking across to the other peaks, all you see is a shimmering expanse of lush green, undulating up and down, a dreamy scene that dispels all fatigue. Everyone's eyes sparkle as if they've arrived in a strange land, far removed from the cornfields and the unpleasant dry forests behind them. Some sit on rocks, gazing around at the waves of grass rising and falling; others lie sprawled in the grass, inhaling deeply the scent of damp basalt soil and fresh grass carried on the breeze, watching the blades of grass sway in the breeze amidst the rapidly drifting white clouds. Or two sisters eagerly take a commemorative photo together, a rare sight to discover in this verdant meadow, while everyone else tries to fully enjoy the breathtaking greenery.

The afternoon gradually faded towards the distant wind turbines. It wasn't a spectacular sunset, but the view stretched across the green grass, occasionally dotted with the deep green of the banyan trees, below were the fields of the Ea H'Leo people, and in the distance, a range of hills with countless wind turbines flashing their lights. The afternoon sun shone down on the hilltops, then pierced through the slopes, creating streaks of golden-green against the green grass. As the sun neared its end, everyone sat still, savoring the last warm rays of the day before the cool breeze arrived. There was no rush to capture the moment; instead, they slowly appreciated the vast expanse of blue sky and rolling hills.

The best thing about nightfall on the grassy hilltop is that the lights from the houses can't reach, allowing the twinkling stars to illuminate the entire forest and mountains. Turning off all the lights leaves only the flickering red glow of the firelight illuminating the banyan trees, watching the stars shimmer in a kaleidoscope of colors. Another lucky day to watch the Milky Way slowly rise and set, something unseen in the bustling city of Saigon. Here, only the sound of the wind whistling through the hills, the crackling of the fire, and the sizzling of the kettle above remain. Everyone pauses to reflect on the day that has just passed; some feel it went by too quickly, not enough to fully appreciate it, while others find it slow enough to recharge their energy after five days of hard work or to drift along in their own thoughts.

The Central Highlands region is truly harsh, from its weather to its vegetation. Yet, there are lush green hills hidden deep within the incredibly unsightly canopy of deciduous forests. It takes considerable effort to observe, feel, and wander with the land and sky to truly appreciate every moment in this nomadic grassland. These experiential journeys leave behind all comforts, endure sweat and even injuries, all for the soul to be soothed by this breathtaking natural beauty.

Phuong Thao is an editor at Travellive magazine. She is passionate about traveling and enjoys capturing moments with her camera in every place she visits. Travel, art, and lifestyle are Phuong Thao's favorite writing topics.

Phung Quang Huy