At the moment I am in Hekou, the small border town in China.
Yesterday was still really foggy in Sapa so I did the same kind of meaningless wandering, bought a vest made from hemp worn by the H'Mong people of northern Vietnam.
I had a delicious coffee and breakfast at a small cheap café, where I mentioned how much I adored his coffee to the owner, who promptly became my newest friend. He told me his families secret to great coffee, which was by far my highlight in Vietnam so far, even if his eagerness was slightly creepy.
When the coffee has been ground coarsely, he wraps it in large banana leaves and puts it up on the roof for a day or two. When taken down, tiny brown and white mushrooms will be growing in the coffee. He then grinds it into fine powder (after drying it again), and this is it. This is why I had two amazing coffees in a row there and went back again this morning to buy a kilo and drink a cup before heading north.
As I walked along the muddy road heading down into the fog, I passed by a bar right next door to my café, where an ausie guy was doing just what me and josh had done in Hanoi, semi-yelling at passers-by to come in for a drink. So I found myself sitting and listening and laughing with these two guys for a few hours, it was good, it made me feel a little less isolated in Sapa.
It is strange the feeling of isolation, yet I tell people and I feel I mastered the art of loving solidarity in China during those first few months alone in such sad surroundings. I still feel that I am completely at ease when chilling out, writing, reading, drawing, contemplating on my own, but when traveling, there is something different about establishing a comforting relationship with strangers who share the moments.
Later that night I headed back to drink with these guys, who by then were showing the effects of the bottle of Beam they had been finishing when I first met them. By the late hour of 7 that I happened back to the bar, they had acquired a few local friends of theirs, them having been lazing about Sapa for nearly 3 months at this stage. The girls were uninterested in me, and the guy crouched on his calves rolling a joint with one hand seemed to have little to say, but he owned a laugh that makes your eyes pop open and your head spin around to find the source of such a shriek.
I got an early night, as there ended up being a group of tiny Mong girls (who claimed to be around 18 years old but hardly reached my waist, and chattered like little school girls), they were pouting and complaining and screaming and smirking, angelic yet devilish in their demeanor. Their racism was such a shock, as it was not, like many of the Vietnamese, directed at the Chinese, but instead at the Vietnamese. It was at that point that I decided to learn more about the multitude of ethnicities born from China.I left as my welcome seemed frayed and the attitude emulating from these young miniature women was not the most inspiring.
This morning was raining and I was not happy about it. In the end I managed to get into a minivan directed toward LaoCai, and of course after an hour waiting and driving around Sapa, it was filled enough to maker the journey worthwhile.
The images imprinted on my memory are those of the smallest girls selling trinkets, much nicer than the gap toothed old women asking personal questions to develop a relationship only to cry and whine when you don’t buy from them.
Also on the road out of Sapa, the clouds were more scattered and the fields peeked through the moving fog. I was lucky to actually witness the splendor with which the world grants Sapa the title of magnificent tourist destination number one for northern Vietnam. Terraced rice paddies are always beautiful in my mind. The rolling hills manicured for centuries, shows determined love and hard work to maintain the wellbeing of a family, a name. The broken huts dotted among the landscapes of fields and hills display the economy of the local farmers. The colours ranging from bright lively leafy green, to mellowed burnt orange. The occasional child playing on the side of the road, or oxen moving deliberately toward their next mouthful of grass. It was also my first up close passing by of these great animals. They remind me of Hippos, but smaller and horned.
After paying extra to be taken to the border crossing, I wrestled my heavy luggage through, being cut off at the passport window by rude Chinese (made worse by my immediate need for the loo), then a slow wander across the bridge to enter the entrance point for China. It wasn’t busy thankfully, and the people working there seemed excited to see me, perhaps because that particular crossing is rarely used by foreigners any more, thanks to the aversion to permitting Chinese visas on the Vietnamese side.
So I, before fainting, found a seat at a fresh fruit smoothie stand. The first I have ever seen of the sort in China, wow my appreciation for the people and ways of this people have advanced to great proportions in my telling of life here to other travelers.
So far I have been approached and talked to by two separate curious Chinese guys. One who had excellent English and gave me some suggestions for locations to visit while in Yunnan, and the other who is a tour guide who hates travel. The mango smoothies here are insanely good, I have my book (just finished jitterbug perfume…my god it was inspiring, and now onto the rivers tale, which has already put into words feelings I cannot), and pens, and snacks, and four more hours of waiting, before jumping on a bus to Kunming, another long journey that I will hope to sleep through.. At the moment, I’m combating the need for a bathroom when I have three heavy bags to lug along with me. The awkwardness of traveling solo I have found is these exact moments. Otherwise I think I am learning so much. I need to write more of the feelings and ideas that come to my mind each time I glance at something seemingly ordinary, but secretly spectacular.
Through the diaries of my youth, to emails from the last 6 years, to daily planners for each year since high school, to doodles and journals and notepads and texts, I start this blog that in some ways I hope people read.
I have seen many times the inefficiency of information anywhere so for a blog perhaps I should share the experience of catching the rides to and from anywhere I go.
In Sapa I was told there are two buses to Lao Cai one early as and one in the evening. I chose to ask a million sources, some of which told me there are minivans etc running all day, just stand near the church to grab one. I had no trouble at all with this, even in the rain with giant luggage dragged behind me, a van came right to my toes to get me in. Be prepared to wait until they fill up the van, and haggle with the price, even if it doesn’t work.
Border crossings are best done mid day, there aren’t many people, and buses north to Kunming don’t leave until 8pm (or early morning), so the later the better I think, as the town of LaoCai is by far more inviting that Hekou, unless you find my wee smoothie spot outside a hotel. Beware of the closing and opening times for the crossing, it’s safe between 8am-5pm either side. Time changes by an hour. I could imagine being stuck on the bridge in between borders, typical Chinese/Vietnamese mess around.
Also coming south from Kunming, I caught the night bus to Hekou, which arrived around 5.30am. I waited in the semi rain and silent lightening darkness for 3 hours until everything was awake and running. The guards took care of me, giving me a plastic seat to sit on and a glass of water while I waited, even an offer of breakfast haha, but my bags were not inviting me to lift them up unless absolutely necessary. I need to learn to pack lightly!
The crossing was simple, and before I went along, I had a few hundred kuai worth of dong in my pocket at a good rate (check the day before and haggle for your ideal rate) and a ticket to Hanoi. On the other side after going through the Vietnamese entry building, I was ushered to a guy who told me there were no trains so I was to bus, and given a different ticket and a ride to the bus station. I managed to pay little for the taxi there which was lucky as I had no idea about the dong worth, until I found that a good price for coffee was 10K, not the 20 I was made to pay on that first entry over the border. By the way if I haven’t mentioned before, god I love Vietnamese coffee. It could be a big push for me to move there temporarily at some stage.