Chatter Of The Squirrel

Hanoi Day 7: The Kidnapping

Everyone slept well, despite the incredibly foreign environment. Good clean mattresses and thick futons make for a very cosy bed. Ten to twelve hours of sleep refreshed all of us. And despite my physical fitness regimen back home, I still woke up with some aching muscles. All the cycling I do pretty much neglected my calf muscles. And wearing pliable sandals, my soleus/gastrocnemius had to absorb a lot of the impact from the climb down the valley.

Breakfast was pancakes with chocolate syrup. A little disappointed with all these ‘western’ meals. Wished we could have more local foods. But did have some glutinous rice cakes that the hostess made the night before.

There also happened to be a festival at the village square today. Some new year, spring, pre-planting celebration. Pity it started only in the afternoon, so we weren’t able to catch the event. Our trek today carried us ever onwards.

We took some final pictures with our host and guide, before we were kidnapped by a gaggle of Black Hmong women…

One lady grabbed my hand, and whisked me away from the rest of the group. We pounded onwards relentlessly, often half a kilometer ahead of the others. Almost everyone had a ‘helping hand’. Dinh has an excellent rapport with the locals, and recruited the bunch of them to help us over the mud-slick trails. Wee Loong was alright on his own. Ravi needed two helping hands.

I was rescued a couple of times as I hopped recklessly along the treacherous trails. The Slatters were great, but not infallible. Then my lady swiped a bamboo walking stick for me from a farmhouse, and it was easy going the rest of the way. She knew only a few words of English. Her favourite words being, “Vely goooood!” in various contexts.

We were hopping from one paddy terrace to another most of the way. Also cut through a swath of bamboo forest, where the surest footings on the steep slope was to step on the stumps of felled bamboo. With the tactile feedback of sandals, it was no problem hopping up like a mountain goat. But sandals do have their failings…. like when I mistook a pile of buffalo dung for a dark coloured rock. “Not goooood.”

We passed by my lady’s casa, a typical Hmong dwelling: old dirty wooden walls, dirt floor, and livestock in and out of cages around the perimeter. She proudly suckled her youngest while we waited for the others to catch up. She’s 35, but looked more like 55, and has five young children. The oldest child takes care of the others while mommy earns the bread. Daddy, the house-husband didn’t seem to be around, although he didn’t have much to do until planting season begins.

We finally stopped for a rest at a waterfall (N22 17.675 E103 54.016). That’s when the Hmong women revealed their ulterior motives for helping us on our trek. It’s an excellent sales technique… first soften up the targets with gratitude, then guilt them into making the sale.

This was where I was cleaned out. My last USD10 went into some pillowcases, a bag, a bracelet etc. All useless souvenier stuff. And now I’m penniless. If they could take Visa, I might have bought more. But being broke is liberating in its own way. I could now turn all the saleswomen away by showing them my empty wallet.

Unfortunately for Ravi, since he ended up taking up all the slack.

Just a little further ahead, we came to our final rest-stop. From here, we would make one last climb up to a Red Dzao village for a look see before coming back again for lunch.

Ravi got freaked out by the word ‘climb’, and chose to stay behind with all the Hmong women for company. The rest of us headed onwards.

The trail was wide and easy. Nothing much to see by way of scenery. The Dzao just like to live apart and isolated from the others. But we got clued in about some Dzao legends. It seems that once upon a time, a demon attacked a Dzao village and killed a lot of people. After some investigation, it was found that the demon had found its way to the village because a Dzao woman had dropped a strand of her hair in the demon’s hunting grounds. Having thus established the blame, it was then decreed that all women had to cover their hair with a red turban, and shave their eyebrows from that day forth.

What a witch-hunt. Well, at least the women have a place to keep their wallet…

We poked our head into the house of a ’shaman’, although he would be more accurately described as a master of ceremonies. The house had a different layout than the Hmong and Zay abodes we’ve seen thus far.

There’s a huge wok in the kitchen for cooking up bathwaters. Bathwaters are cooked with a mix of herbs. Some of these herbs probably have disinfectant properties, since it’s a communal bath. Family members take it in turns, in order of seniority. I’m guessing that the baby bathes in the murkiest muck, thus the coining of the idiom, “Don’t throw out the baby with the bathwater.”

The Dzao bathe daily, but change their clothes weekly. The Black Hmong bathe weekly, and change daily.

We made a short circuit of the tiny village, then came back to where we left Ravi. Had lunch, a bit of rest, then crossed the final bridge, and trekked up to Cau May (N22 18.021 E103 54.257), where a jeep took us back to the hotel.

Thus, concluding the most fantastic tour I’ve ever had! All for the low low price of US$18!!

The hotel was good to give us showering facilities, even when we’ve already checked out. Thus the advantage of booking your tour from your own hotel. It took us a considerable effort to become presentable again, but we had time before the last mini-van down the mountain at 6.30pm, and catch our train to Hanoi at 8.20pm.

WeeLoong had to use this time to make good his promises to buy some souveniers from the girl he had the Loser-fight with. I had a last walk around while dodging Hmong girls. They wouldn’t let me leave until I’ve convinced them that I’m REALLY flat broke. And then, they couldn’t wait to shove me aside and redirected their attentions to Ben and WeeLoong.

Dinner at a restaurant Dinh recommended before we parted ways. Excellent call. Can’t remember the name of the restaurant, but I could show you where the next time I’m in that neighbourhood… Must try the duck.

On the journey down, I got a sight of the Sa Pa lake, from out of a moving van, and in between two buildings, a milisecond glimpse of a beautiful lake, an acquaintance that fate had denied us.

There was a bit of time to kill back at Lao Cai. We sat down for a drink. Some concoction of condensed milk with a few drops of coffee dripped on it. There was enough sugar to jazz up a fat blues singer. WeeLoong wasted not a single moment, hitting on the drinks vendors by pretending to be Vietnamese. Don’t ask how he managed it… He does, what he does.

We got a slightly smaller berth this time. Different train than the one we came in on. Made no real difference. It was Bridge again for most of the ride.

Hanoi Day 6: The Tribes

Need a good breakfast this morning. Some omellete and stuff to give us lots of energy for the walk ahead. Noticed that a bowl of Pho is the same price as a small cup of coffee. So I say, screw the bitter diuretic, give me some of that hearty soup!

I’m doing the trek with my trusty CamelBak, carrying everything I brought with me to Hanoi. It was an issued challenge, and I stood to earn a cup of Irish coffee. The rest of the guys dumped their excess baggage in the hotel’s store room.

We met our guide, a young man named Dinh. He’s a fresh history grad, home for a couple of months before his teacher’s training begins. He speaks good English, and is full of stories and gave us an incredibly personal insight of how the educated class sees their country today. What a freaking bargain!

It had rained the night before. Our trail was muddy and slick. But on the plus side, the mist had cleared and we had a fantastic view of the mountains, the terraces etc.

The road to the villages start directly SE of Mountain View. Go 2.7km along the tarmac road until the trailhead at (N22 19.169 E103 51.426), next to a little shop. Then go south and down and get intimate with the mud.

Along the way, you’ll find small boys selling bamboo walking sticks for 5k Dong. It’s not essential, but it gives you immeasureably better footing on slick slopes. I went the first day without a stick, and picked up a free stick on the second day. There’s a big difference, for a small price.

I was psyched about the route we were taking, because it was taking us to a geocache! I checked http://www.geocaching.net for searchable caches before I left home, and I was pretty excited about this one. The trail we were following fitted the descriptions, and I was sure that the guide will lead us past the bridge in no time.

But we missed the cache by 230m. It seems that we were skipping the bridge that would have taken us to Y Linh Ho. I didn’t realise we were off course until too late. To this day… I still can’t figure out how I got turned around… we were heading east, paralleling a stream, then cross the stream and turned right, and we were still going east….

But just as well… As it happens, another geocaching group was there just the week before and had taken the Travel Bug that I was after…

After we hit the stream, we were walking along the rice terraces. It was still some months from planting season, so right now the terraces were merely swimming pools for ducks, and jacuzzis for buffalos. There’s no path through the terraces. We had to balance ourselves on the embankments. Ravi’s pants was the first that could not resist the lure of mud. Dinh’s pants followed immediately after while he was helping Ravi up.

Word of advice, you can’t balance or stop a fall with your arms when your hand is holding onto an expensive piece of optical electronic. The Olympus came away slightly stained but otherwise unscathed.

There were some concerns earlier about the sandals I was wearing, whether it was good enough for the muddy trek ahead. I didn’t pack hiking shoes for the trip cos I wanted to minimize gear, and maximise comfort. But these were good sandals: Slatters, which I bought in Melbourne. Not as good nor as cheap as the Salomons I had been wearing for years earlier until the straps had started disintegrating whilst the sole remained in near mint condition. But these sandals gave me good grip, probably better than Ben’s Asics, gave me good feedback of the terrain that I’m putting my foot down on, I can easily wash off the mud at convenient streams when it becomes slick, and it dries easily. The last is very important in the high humidity.

All through the trek, Dinh kept up a running conversation about many aspects of the life in the mountains, or in Vietnam in general.

The rice growing season. The penetration of education into the tribes. How they’re taxed, and how the tax collected is immediately put to use to improve the villages in the form of schools or grid power. How the fields are inherited. How the fields here are exempt from government control unlike the rice fields on the deltas, which are ruled by the land reform laws. The gender inequality amongst the minorities.

At the same time also, he steals blankets and pillow cases from the basket carriers of passing Hmong girls. He has an excellent rapport with the locals.

We taught him a malay word: “Buaya.”

We kept going east until we reached a bridge and a foodstop, where we had some lunch.

After a brief rest, we went across the bridge to the village of Lao Chai, which means market or something. And past this village, we finally reached the village of Ta Van (N22 18.144 E103 53.313), where we stopped for the night at the homestay (N22 18.004 E103 53.633). 11.6km trek in total today.

The homestay is very comfortable and cosy. It’s a brick and mortar windowless house belonging to a Zay family. The house had to achieve a certain standard of hygiene before it can be licensed as a homestay. The house is made up of three chambers. The middle, where the front door opens into, is the living / dining room and where the altars are; the left chamber is where the beds are; the right opens to the kitchen. There’s a mezzanine level with comfortable mattresses and warm blankets for the homestay guests.

I brought a compact sleeping bag all the way here, but it seems that I won’t be using it at all the whole trip.

I think Ben might have been a little disappointed by the arrangements. I think he was visualising Mongolian char-siew-pao tents, sleeping on the grassy plains under a velvet starry sky. Too much period chinese TV series. These are agrarian tribes. I suspect Ben’s wanderlust will carry him to the plains of Mongolia next.

And for the first time since we came to Hanoi, we were served complimentary drinks! The homestay owner was generous with the tea. Ravi still has to pay for his liquid bread, of course. We tried to have a tranquil moment on the patio, but that hope was dashed almost immediately when were were beset by Hmong saleswomen.

We put up our best efforts to hold on to our money, but it was a losing battle.

Dinner was very generous. There’s a lot of fresh meat, which Dinh must have brought along with him. In the villages, they seem to favour meat jerkies. Our host also bought “Happy Water” for the meal.

It’s a potent rice wine, made locally. In Dinh’s estimation, it may be 35% alcohol. It was delicious! It goes down like a depth charge, and will likely sink a sailor. This is how I’ve always imagined what liquor tastes like.

But this liquor can only be safely imbibed in these villages. If you try to order them elsewhere in the cities, there’s a high risk that the drink will be mixed with methanol. And that stuff makes you blind.

The Happy Water incapacitated Ben and WeeLoong for the remainder of the night.

Ravi & I managed to stay conscious and chatted with Dinh till the late hours of… 8.30pm. Early to bed and early to rise is the norm here. The kids, watching TV at a neighbour’s, actually stayed up later than the dad.

We spoke of many things. The marriage traditions of the tribes. The going rate of a Zay bride (3 buffalos, 5 pigs, a large measure of rice, and silver bullions). The Zay have arranged marriages. The Black Hmong ‘kidnap’ their brides, with her consent of course. The Red Dzao have a more open marriage, and frequent the Love Market. Can’t remember which tribe has the bride being ‘inherited’ by the brother-in-law or even father-in-law if the husband died. No sense letting a workable womb go to waste.

The area around Sa Pa has been a tourist attraction for more than 11 years already. It’s amazing how much charm has been preserved after such a length of time. But it’s also seeing some rapid growth. 5yrs ago, there were only 4 guest houses in town. Now the numbers are closer to 84.

It’s evident that the government acts in the interest of the locals in managing the growth. The charm of the place and of the people are largely preserved. And there is strong regulatory control, as unseen authorities register the passports of every tenant at every hotel. Almost everywhere we stayed, our passports will be kept for half a day for registration and inspection.

We also discussed about the rest of Vietnam in general. How Hanoi felt like a very safe city, the abscence of crime despite there being no police in the streets. Dinh corrected this impression. The police in the streets are all in plain clothes.

When you put a couple of Malaysians together and ask them to talk about our country and our government, you’ll frequently hear grouses, government cluelessness or corruption, dissatisfaction, race inequality, etc. When our government budgets money for education, I’m immediately thinking which fat bastards are going to line their pockets with the IT purchases this year… (But apparently times are tough with Badawi-Mr-Clean’s rule; heard one Dato complained about how Khairul is taking the bulk of the projects, such that only 5% of a 5billion project is trickling down to the impoverished Dato…)

But when Dinh talked about Vietnam, he talked passionately about oversights the government has made, such as the land reform laws which leases agricultural land for only 5 short years, that only encourages the growing of fast cash crops but not the more long term crops like fruit trees. He discussed these problems, but with the desire and ambition to do something to make things better. He believes in education, and is looking forward to his teacher training. He is optimistic about the future, and he has faith in his government, and in his own ability to effect changes.

I have yet to see such spirit at home.

Eventually even Dinh and Ravi retired. I toasted myself by the fire in the kitchen for a while longer to stay warm. The aroma of a bamboo & wood fire is strangely sweet. I knocked off out of boredom after I finished jotting down the notes for this day’s trip.

Hanoi Day 5: The Trek to Mt Fansipan

Hanoi Day 4: The Train

Slept through the night easily. The sea is dead calm and the boat did not rock perceptibly. Almost felt like we’re on a stilt house over the waters. The morning air was pretty cold this time of year. Fore-go-ed (fore-went?) showering. Although the others who did make use of the showering facilities had fun with the temperamental water heater that blasts cold and warm water in alternation.

Boat ride today was far more leisurely, since there’s nothing scheduled. Just a ride from the boat park to Cat Ba Island, where we pick up some more passengers, and back to the jetty.

Relaxed on the top deck, catching sun and appreciating the scenery of islands that look like human faces, bosoms, cocks, etc. Um… I meant roosters. The other synonym is rather prone to misunderstanding.

It was only when we swapped tourguides at Cat Ba, that we got a guy who actually recognised my GPS device. He was more useful, and started pointing out islands and naming them for me. He also pointed out the hidden lagoons where Tomorrow Never Dies was filmed. The boats are not licensed to go there. The only way to take a look at the lagoon without going through red tape with the authorities was to stop at the village and borrow a boat from one of the fishermen.

The filming happened near a floating fishing village, which sees a lot of boat traffic for the seafood the villagers sell. It’s really a cool lifestyle, these villages… Grab two dozen blue plastic barrels; seal them; lash them together into a raft; planks over the top; four walls and a roof; a few dozen yards of rope to anchor your real estate to an island. Stock some booze, and you’ve almost got a Malibu lifestyle with a huge, zero maintenance swimming pool, and without the risk of the pool-boy diddling your wife. The bay is so sheltered, it’ll be like living on a pool deck.

What’s amazing about Ha Long Bay is the cleanliness. Despite the production line of boats bringing boatloads of tourists hitting the islands at staggered intervals, the waters has remained pure. The industry is strictly regulated, each licensed boat is required to maintain certain standards, they can only stop at certain islands and stay on a designated course. Discipline and good sense keeps the water and beaches refuse free. I did not see a single Coke can, or discarded tyre washed up on any of the beaches.

If we had such beauty in Malaysia, you can be sure that local authorities will have raped the place and ejaculated commercial crap all over the place, all in the name of development, as some corrupt official lines his pockets. Who wants to go all the way to Langkawi to see a giant concrete eagle, pay rm20 per cab ride, rm50 per jet-ski ride, or see the museum dedicated to Mahathir?

Back at the jetty, we had our last “Big Lunch”. Took the chance to talk to the other Vietnamese tourists. Most importantly, to learn how to order non-dog meat.

Vietnam Observation #4
Chinese ‘cuisine’ here pretty much sucks. Sweet and sour pork that’s neither sweet nor sour. Lunch was at a ‘Cantonese’ restaurant…

And mini-van back to the city.

The mini-van will only drop us back at our hotel, and wouldn’t take us to the train station. So we have to trek through town lugging everything on our backs. Didn’t give me much trouble, cos I travelled light.

Dumped out baggage at the train station and took a walk around that part of the city. There’s a smaller lake marked out on the map, so we thought we could try to find it.

This adventure failed it’s primary objective, but it was more interesting than I had expected.

We took a general bearing and just went down random roads and alleys that lead in the general direction. My GPS isn’t much help, cos it only marks my position and my trail, but there is no Hanoi city map that I could download into it. There isn’t a community of GPS nuts here after all…

If the Old Quarter is like Petaling Street, then the rail station area is like Chow Kit.

Narrow streets. Old buildings. Sweat shops. A LOT of hair-dressers…

Even saw a ‘hotel’ that almost looked like the ‘Pig Cage’ dwelling in Kung Fu Hustle.

There were no other tourists on these streets with us. In fact it occured to me that, to the locals, we probably looked like a bunch of foreigners trying to find some Vietnamese tail, and rather unsuccessfully at that. It was at this point that I looked at the hairdressers with renewed suspicion.

There can’t be THAT big a market for hairdressers… In such a poor part of town, no less. Granted that almost every Vietnamese girl keeps impeccable silky straight hair, but even then! I later had these suspicions confirmed by our Sa Pa guide. He confirmed that some of these establishments are more than likely to perform special services, which the locals have dubbed, “Happy Ending”.

Well, now you know…

A note about trains in communist countries… They leave on time. Something that takes some getting used to, for us Malaysians. But no disaster this time.

We got a sleeper coach. The room was cosy and comfortable, and all four of us fit in one room just nicely.

And this night, we inducted WeeLoong to the game of Bridge. And the laughs never stopped. It’s amazing that a commercial airline pilot can be so inattentive. Almost everything went past him.

Hanoi Day 3: The Sea

Today, we went to Ha Long Bay.

We took the US$45 option, which we bargained down to US$44, and then got a service tax slapped on it, making it US$48.40. This was the one and only time we ever got slapped with a 10% tax, anywhere!

So, we’re looking forward to the “Big Boat”, and the “Big Lunch”, and the fluent English speaking guide. The trip started real well with a cramped little bus, packed to capacity, and a guide who’s not all that fluent in English.

It was an uncomfortable 3hr ride to Bai Chay, which is just one bridge away before Hong Gai. That’s where the tourist jetty is, where an armada of hotel-boats berth. We found our boat quickly, and waited impatiently to depart. The view here was already amazing, and we’re looking forward to getting closer to the islands dotting the bay.

The waters are greenish blue, and dead calm. There’s hardly any wind, but the movement of the boat gave a good 30kph breeze. The warm sun. The cool air. The smell of the sea. The sight of the limestone islands. The relaxation, wonderful. Except that the cold air makes my skin break out in a rash if I sit top-side too long.

The islands are one of a kind… They’re like those phallic mountains you often see in chinese landscape art, ie tall, sheer-faces, narrow rounded peaks. Just imagine a whole bunch of these mountains together, and then you flood the whole place till only the tip shows.

Sorry I can’t be more poetic describing these wonderful sights… There’s no poetry in my cold silicon soul.

We made a stop at the island with the Cave of Surprises, which composed of several huge limestone caverns. It must have looked great when it was virgin. They’ve remodeled the cavern to make it tourist friendly. A wide path carved out. Strategically placed yellow spotlights. The ceiling machined smooth so no stalagtites are left to fall and kill. And the rubble was stacked up in ‘artistic piles’, hoping that tourist won’t notice how much of it was artificial.

I walked on ahead and listened in while another tour guide did his spiel on his group. When our tourguide caught up, it was agony hearing our guide trying to do the exact same speech, rote learned from their Tourism 101 class, in his halting English.

Lunchtime, at least the Big Lunch did not disappoint. Fairly neutral and palatable foods in bountiful quantities. The four of us got a table all to ourselves. The others were still recovering their appetite from the dog meat, so I got the lion’s share of the food.

After lunch, we began to teach WeeLoong to play Hearts. Yes, that game that comes with Windows XP.

Then we made a stop at Ti Top island. Nothing there but a viewing gazebo up on a 84m summit. It was quite a climb. But even a gimp legged Jap tourist made it. Think he had arthrodesis on one knee. The view was good.

Back down on the beach, there’s kayaking for those who felt up to it. That ended in a minor disaster. Got my bermudas wet, and they’re impossible to dry in these temperatures and humidity. Tried to air dry it anywhere I could, but it was hopeless. Luckily, the hotel at Sa Pa could do laundry at 15k Dong per kg, but that’s 3 nights later.

In the evening, the boat chugged slowly to the ‘boat park’. As it happens, there’s a big “P” sign to designate the parking area.

The night was moonless, and the darkness quite complete. Such that you can see a green glow in the waters from the bioluminescent plankton. It’s pretty cool to watch. When you spit into the water, you can see green ripples in the waters. Amusing as it was, I couldn’t indulge too much. Was running low on fluids, and drinking water is expensive, and I down 2-3 litres of water on any given day.

Speaking of which…

Hanoi Travel Tip
1.5l of mineral water is 10k Dong for tourists almost everywhere. But they’ll sell for 7k, which was the cheapest I ever saw in Hanoi, which also doesn’t happen very often.