On the way in the mountains

After breakfast, we are supposed to start at 9 o'clock. They are actually well-organized, but they lack local drivers, and the start is delayed. I'm not very enthusiastic about my 110cc motorcycle. The horn doesn't work, the lights don't work, at least the brake light works. It's a semi-automatic motorcycle, a bit strange. Overall, it has 4 gears, the first is not used. I should use a low gear when going uphill because of the power, and the same going downhill for engine braking. Every morning, we go for communal refueling. At first, I have a bit of trouble keeping up. I don't know the machine or the route, and the others have stronger machines. After the first day, I'm in the groove, I figure out when to shift and how to take the curves. I’m the only one from our group of 15 motorcycles who's riding solo (and has mirrors). All the others have a local driver (they get €10 a day). The gears have to be properly engaged, and you almost always have to ride at full throttle.

We ride uphill and then downhill, again and again, just serpentines. A dream for true motorcycle fans. There are also many tourists with their machines exploring on their own. Approximately every hour, we stop at a lookout point. The drivers smoke their tobacco bongs, and photos are taken. Once, we stop at a place where they show how fabrics are traditionally made from hemp. The skin is pulled off, dried, threshed, then knotted and spun. Quite an elaborate process and done by women, the prices are far too low for the work. There’s also a very old woman with deformed hands who calmly paints the fabrics. I shudder at her. In the evening, we are at a large accommodation. I had time to buy T-shirts at the local market, which was necessary. All meals are generous and very good, many different dishes are served in the middle of the table, and everyone takes with their chopsticks. There's also happy water (rice wine) after a drinking toast that goes BOI HA MI or something like that. I drink the stuff like water with a Corsican, it’s relatively weak. The drivers play billiards the whole time. Later, there's karaoke, and everyone opens up, even a few Vietnamese. It’s really fun; the Spaniards get everyone dancing with Despacito, Macarena, and so on.

Second day, the same routine. Uphill, downhill, break. Kids wave at us, fantastic landscape. We cover about 150 to 200 km a day. The weather is great every three days, no rain, and even so much sun that I get a sunburn. The first major stop is the tallest flagpole in Indochina at the border with China. Many steps, great view. Today's highlight was a boat tour on a mountain lake. My group is fun; many German speakers are along. A retiree from Switzerland/New Zealand has far too much energy; she keeps everyone busy. Her daughter is sometimes embarrassed. There's also a FAZ journalist with us. It also happens often that landslides are seen along the way; we navigate around them. Construction sites are tricky as the whole road is blocked and only opened every 30 minutes. A huge block of motorcycles starts at the same time, no order. Those are the most stressful moments, frequently getting nudged. And a few goats were stubborn on the road. Well, the wheels all have scratches already.

Day three of the tour. You can tell the drivers want to head back. There's only riding and then a break. The drivers have also become quieter and only smoke their bongs now. They could have told a bit more about the area and the history. Shortly after starting, we passed an accident. A tourist fell off his motorcycle down a cliff. I think he’s not doing well at all. We’re back around 4 PM and can still shower and eat. The tour was really worth it, next time better with a driver. When riding by yourself, you can't really enjoy the landscape, full concentration. A young Vietnamese girl shows up at the hostel wanting to practice her English. I'm in, she was really good. 43 classmates and the usual teenage problems are the topic. Just before it starts, I become part of the fake review methods. For a good review, there was a free T-shirt. Yes, bring it on! We take the bus to Sa Pa, arriving around 2 PM, and the place is empty. My loyal companion, the rain, is back.

Saturday. Sa Pa is a mountain town with colonial flair, marketing slogan: 'City in the Fog'. How fitting, just rain. What to do? A bit of wandering around, getting laundry done (40000 Dong per kilo), and writing in my diary. In the evening, hunger drives me out. There's a stone church and an old colonial building, which today includes a cable car station. For the first time in Vietnam, I see begging children, and the starkest kind. A boy, maybe 2 years old, holds a baby in his arms and sits in the rain. That’s hard to bear. The government doesn’t want this, also due to a bad image, but it's probably tolerated for the indigenous people. It must be worth it for the parents; otherwise, it wouldn't exist. Unfortunately, there are enough who apparently give money, thus keeping it alive. I buy nothing from children and give nothing to avoid promoting child labor. If they help in the hostel or their parents' restaurant, no problem.

In the evening, there was a well-produced show at the main plaza. Lasers, fog, projections, dances, music. And it didn't cost anything because not everything could be done perfectly due to the rain. They apologized multiple times, and those who bought tickets got their money back. There are five tribes in Sa Pa, and each performed a dance. I'm not really a fan of ethnoculture, but I watched 3 dances. The first was clearly a promotional dance. In the second, knowledge about agriculture was shared. On Saturdays, there's also the Love Market. Young people from the surrounding mountain villages come to Sa Pa to find partners through dance and music. It's interesting how traditions develop and how one unconsciously realizes the need to freshen the gene pool in the villages. But this Saturday, there was none, maybe because of the show.

Sunday, I'm considering leaving but give Sa Pa another chance. At least it’s only foggy, an improvement. Bánh mì for breakfast, and then we set off to the highest mountain in Indochina at 3143 meters. The nice hostel owner booked me tickets. First, we go up a bit with a cable car. There’s a flower carpet in summer. And there's an artificial village where all five tribes have set up a house in their style. There are dances for tourists and souvenirs, and they play a 'ball through the ring' game with us. Everything is quite cutely arranged. Then we take the Austrian cable car over a gorge up to 2900 meters. A third cable car goes all the way up, I take the footpath that leads through a large Buddhist temple. That’s quite impressive. Of course, there's a monastery on a big mountain. And sure, they have the largest bronze Buddha in some category. A lot of wind, low visibility. Quite exhausting, those 200 meters of altitude. At the top, everyone takes photos. Aha, once again the tallest flagpole at the border with China. In the 70s, China suddenly invaded Vietnam. Since then, there is distrust, and they like to mark who is in charge. Coming down, there was less fog, and you could see the rice terraces from the cable car.

I meet an American of Vietnamese descent in a Hmong restaurant (one of the tribes). It tastes interesting. Michael is chatty and has an interesting perspective on the USA regarding racism against Asians and others. He served for 4 years and views the USA's wars very critically. In the evening, we wanted to go to the night market, but his bus was canceled, and he had to organize something new. The night market was more to my liking, lots of food, little other stuff. In the evening, I book a bus ticket to Hanoi. There’s so much that could have been done here. Hiking, biking, motorcycle tours to the villages and markets. But everything is muddy, and the forecasts are bad. I can do that elsewhere. Indigenous people, mountains, and rice fields exist everywhere.

Monday, November 10, rain as predicted. The buses always run at inconvenient times, never from 10 PM to 6 AM. I get up earlier on my vacation than usual. The bus is weird, everything is pink and decorated with hearts, and only double cabins. The green, hilly landscape passes by, soothing. We don’t arrive in Hanoi until around 3 PM. I could have gone straight ahead, but that’s too stressful for me. Besides, I still have things to do that aren’t so easily accomplished in the countryside. Buy hygiene products, get 11 million Dong, buy sunscreen, find a hostel, book a bus. It’s a €3 hostel, so I can’t complain. There’s a common area; not every hostel has that. I join a colorful group of travelers, many funny travel stories, and in the end, the topic is unusual food. I was more in the middle with elephant and bull testicles. The Filipino won by a long shot. I prefer not to share that.

Money-wise, everything works out this time; my two Visa credit cards work, no one wants the Maestro. I also have €1000 cash as a backup. At the ATM, the limit is 5 million, which isn’t much. VPBank has no fees; others often charge up to 5%. When exchanging money in Hanoi, you get the daily rate if you change in the right place (1 Euro = 30400 Dong). In the small towns, it's only 29000 Dong. I can only say two words in Vietnamese: Xin chào and cảm ơn, Hello and Thank you. That’s already enough. Every now and then, I get something small, like a candy. They are really happy, respect pays off. Tomorrow, I’m heading to Mai Chau in rural Vietnam; looking forward to it.