We boarded the overnight train and found our cabin. I was pleased to find that it was spacious and clean, it was first class after all. We settled in well and after a few too many beers, the rhythmic motion of the train rocked me to sleep. We were crudely awakened at 5am by a crew member banging on the door, signalling to us that our stop was coming up. We departed the train and found a mini bus that would take us up the winding mountain pass to Sa Pa. It was still dark at this stage but as dawn broke we had our first taste of the sheer beauty that the location had in store for us. Driving above the clouds, we looked down as the morning sun reflected off the haze, illuminating the surrounding mountains. It highlighted the many shades of green that would otherwise go unnoticed. No wonder the people of Sa Pa had a glowing happiness about them – they were poor in terms of money but their wealth and greatest asset lay within the area that they call home. Like a stairway down the mountain, rice paddies lined the slopes, shimmering with golden radiance.

The fresh mountain air did well for my hangover. After the hour drive, we finally arrived at our destination. Now it was time to find a hotel. We found a suitable place for $15 and Yvette, Ilrok and I made ourselves at home.

We had a quick breakfast at the hotel, hired a pair of motorbikes and set out to explore. We had no particular direction in mind but nonetheless followed the road wherever it would take us, turning left and right only on impulse. After a good half hour a local urged us to ascend a steep, semi-hidden road that did not seem the least bit suitable for our poor old mopeds.

We shrugged off the notion and putted along up the rocky dirt road. Before we knew it, we were engulfed in mist and focused on the technical driving that would prevent us from falling to our deaths. The road was two metres wide at best. On the side adjacent to the mountain, treacherous cliffs were a bit too close for comfort. The overhang to the left slowly began to level out and it became obvious that we had discovered a village. The first clue was the livestock, roaming freely on the slopes. Secondly, we encountered children playing and running to see who had arrived at their village. Lastly, through the mist, we began to see shapes forming that resembled huts.

 

We continued our impromptu tour through the settlement and greeted smiling faces as we ventured deeper. The road became too hazardous and we thought it best to turn around.

We headed back through the village and found the main road. It was a good time to break out the map and look for other attractions that may spike our curiosity. We noticed a waterfall that was only 25-30km from where we were. “Fantastic”, we collectively thought and with that we were off on our next undertaking. The drive was beyond explanation; we whizzed through the mountain pass and stopped only to take photographs.

We arrived at the waterfall and parked our bikes. It felt good to go on foot for a change. We paid a woman at the bottom and set out to hike the trail up to the waterfall. It was then that we realised that we had been scammed. We encountered the official ticket office to the waterfall and turned on our heel to go and exchange figurative blows with the horrible wench that had pulled the wool over our eyes. After much hostility, we got our money back and attempted a round two up the path.

We paid our fee at the legitimate ticket office and cringed at the sign that announced the 12km hike. We would find this too, to be a hoax. After walking roughly a kilometre, I spotted the point at which we would have to cross the river and descend the mountain. My body seemed to miraculously recharge at this point, I had all the energy in the world knowing that I wouldn’t have to make the 12km hike afflicted with the “vineyard flu”.

The rest of the day was spent patrolling the mountain passes of Sa Pa, giving us vantage to the view of the valley below. That evening we thought it a good idea to try some traditional cuisine and took seat at a street vendor’s make-shift restaurant. We ordered our beers and began selecting various raw eatables for the “chef” to braai (barbeque) for us. During our meal a brightly clad, pesky local that had been hounding us all day and popping up at various points had again found us. With a shrill voice she bombarded us again “you buy for me!” Her English was above par so we invited her to sit with us so that we could learn more about her culture. I bought her a beer and the girls bought a trinket or two to loosen her tongue. She turned out to be an interesting character. Her name is Yuli and although she is very old, she could not remember her age. We became well acquainted with her culture and customs and bought her supper. The bountiful rice paddies were a poor reflection of the wealth of these people. She was dirt poor and hungry but remained happy and full of expression throughout our many conversations. Her eyes almost popped out of her head when the bill arrived (which was of course still very cheap to us). “Too much!” She shrieked and a wave of guilt overcame her for having us spend so much money on her. “You come to my village tomorrow, I make you food for free” she said and we quickly agreed. I will never forget old Yuli, she is one of those people who leaves a lasting impression. I don’t know whether it was her wry toothy grin that bore a top row of chompers at a 45 degree angle or her untainted charisma. I still hear her hearty cackle if I think about it long enough. We agreed on a time and went back to the hotel for an early(ish) night.

We awoke at the crack of dawn and geared up to meet Yuli. We arrived at the centre of town and there she was, waiting for us as promised after spending a night sleeping on the streets. Yvette loaded her on to her bike and took the lead, as she was in possession of our navigator. We took an equally perilous route as the day before and drove until our bikes could no longer battle the terrain. We parked them at the house of a slightly annoyed local and took off once more on foot. It was a pleasant hike to Yuli’s house. We began to envision what living on those slopes really meant. I now have a deeper understanding of rural life. We encountered a sense of happiness and hardship that we had never contemplated before. Yuli was the epitome of resourceful on the slopes, she had lived her whole life there. She kept feeding us information about the plants and animals that were native to the area. She scampered up a hill and returned with a few lashes from a type of fern. She stripped the leaves away as we watched with curiosity. She quickly fashioned 3 horses from the fern stems and handed them to us with a smile. We still hold on to them as priceless souvenirs. At last we walked down a slope and Yuli exclaimed “there, there is my house!” She looked around disappointed at the fact that we could not see the landscape in its full beauty and let out a shout to banish the mist “go away! Go away Hoge, they cannot see!” We all chuckled at the outburst and made the descent to her house.

We were met by three grubby little kids that she identified as her grandchildren. They stuck out their mud-covered hands demanding a gift. Yuli skipped ahead and gave them a few sweets that we had earlier given to her. In this area, nothing is taken for granted. I stepped inside the damp, gloomy residence and felt as if I had time travelled back to a previous era. The floor was made from packed mud and the house was divided into 3 sections. The first was the living area, it comprised of a few makeshift seats and a wooden cabinet that must have taken some time to make. A few pictures hung in the room and one in particular caught my attention. It was a picture of her son’s wedding, the photo was that of a beautiful couple in a picturesque setting with the faces of her son and daughter in law crudely photoshopped on. Secondly was the sleeping area. A few sheets of material made a sleeping area for Yuli and the grandchildren and a loft was constructed above it for her son and his wife. Lastly was the kitchen. There was a water tank and a fire pit with slaughtered pig hanging from the roof above the fire pit. It had been divided into many portions and dangled there above the smoke to cure. A kitten stirred next to the fire. It had no mother or family, they had all run away or died – well, so we were told. We chatted to Yuli as she selected a few cuts off the smoking rack and began to prepare them along with the many types of vegetables and tofu. It was a good idea to explore the village as Yuli made our meal.

We strolled along with the grandkids and as if by some miracle the mist lifted for a moment. The vista of the entire village was now before our eyes. It was unforgettable, no matter how I try, I do not believe that I can put it into words. We felt a rare happiness that day, I will make it my goal to find it again.

It was about then that we headed back to the house to see what Yuli had prepared for us. We were greeted by shot upon shot of rice wine and were swiftly ushered to our seats. Rice, pork, tofu, vegetables and a noodle broth was on the menu. The portions were massive, there was no way that we could finish it all. Although having so little, she treated us to the best that she had to offer and we ate as much as we could. After washing it down with all the rice wine we were not as lucid as we should have been.

We had no time to be lazy though, the day was coming to an end and we had to take the hike back to our bikes, board the bus and then finally the train. We decided to take Yuli to the local photo shop (upon her request) and developed a few photos to commemorate our exceptional time. We said our goodbyes and were all left with a wet kiss on the neck.

Packing our bags at the hotel was not a happy affair, it meant that we would soon be leaving. We were about to board the bus when we heard a familiar yell. It was Yuli - “I was looking everywhere for you, I even ask my friends to help!” We had shared such an intimate experience with Yuli that she took it upon herself to track us down and give us one last gift. “This for you” she said as she handed us each a little handmade bag. I will never forget old Yuli – her youth and charisma are unlike anything I have ever seen. I said a very solemn good bye to Sa Pa as we wound our way down the mountain, looking back would do no good. I will once again gaze upon Sa Pa in the future.