Scenes from Sapa

After a few weeks at home in Hanoi, Pem and I started to feel the familiar stirrings of wanderlust. We decided now was the time to see Sapa. In the misty hours early one Friday morning, our overnight train delivered us, groggy and aching from our rumbling slumber, to Lao Cai station in Northern Vietnam. We were so far north in fact, that we were nearly at the China border. We hopped into a shuttle with some other foreigners and headed southwest towards Sapa.

A former French hill station in the early 20th century, Sapa is nestled within the mountains at an altitude of 1,600 m. Up above, mist swirled around craggly peaks. Down below, the rushing Red River wound between verdant rice paddies ready for harvest. It was rainy and humid during most of our visit, not the cool weather we had been hoping for (during winter months, there is frost and sometimes even snow!). But when the grey skies broke and the sun shone upon the valley for a few hours every afternoon, the views were well worth the wait. 

In the mornings, our walks around town were peppered with persistent, but friendly, ethnic minority women plying their wares. In the afternoons, after lunch at The Hill Station or Baguette et Chocolat, we set about the surrounding villages by foot or by motorbike. In the evenings, we relaxed with some drinks at the Hmong Sisters Bar and watched male foreigners playing pool with two lovely, but ruthless, local women (the Hmong sisters?) who would flip their waist-long hair over their shoulders as they prepared to sink the winning shot. In the cool night air, we walked the quiet streets to our hotel, Sapa Rooms, and in no time, we surrounded ourselves with the gauzy mosquito net and drifted into the haze of dreams.

On our last evening, we rushed to the edge of town to try and catch the sunset. The road ended and the sun was setting just around the edge of the next peak, out of view. As we turned around to return into town, beyond the dark and quiet valley, we saw one, then another, then another, countless bursts of lightning in the distance. The bolts of lightning were so forceful they lit the valley below for just a few seconds at a time. I tried to capture what we were seeing on video, but it hardly did the experience justice. There was this feeling, as if we were witnessing a secret communion between heaven and earth. There are just a handful of moments in life, if you're lucky, where you're struck by the sheer immensity and unmistakeable majesty of that unfolding before you. This was one of those moments.