We managed to catch an overnight train from Hanoi to Lao Cai, the border that meets its neighbouring country – China. The four soft sleeper cabin was a perfect fit for us with Shuyi and Mama taking over the bottom half while Ian and I, on the upper level. Lights were out 30 minutes after departure and from there on, a demonized orchestra has awakened. Screeching sounds of rusty breaks sang with dissonant tunes as random stops were heavily amplified with a rhapsody of ritenuto and ralletando tempo. The disjointed melody was accompanied by percussion of doors banging and metal windows clanging away. From time to time, the air conditioner decides to plunder our unsettled rest with its empty filter, coughing out nothing but wailing sounds of freon heat. The music was desynchronized and a chronodisruption piece. It sounded like an echoing tragedy of mourners, lamenting praises for the dead.
Of the two days at Sapa, our excursion to the paddy field was my favorite. We had a tour guide taking us to the villages. The morning was flooded with drizzles of light rain and slight chills. It was hard for us to comprehend beyond a certain vicinity as the mountains were heavily covered with a blanket of thick fog. Our only source of compass was the tour guide, with trails of colorful ponchos and umbrellas everyone in our group was carrying that day. As we walked up the windy paved roads, I realized that I was no longer dodging motorized vehicles, (well maybe a few buses or motorbikes here and there), but instead, animals - big and small. Buffalos, chickens, goats, wild boards and even pigs, like motorbikes in Hanoi, own the roads of Sapa, walking at the slowest pace possible, some lazing around with no fear of anything or anyone but the little boy, holding a thin rattan cane. Dodging trails of feces, left by the delinquent big and smalls, our tour guide ushered us up the valley with care. We met a few H'mong girls along the way, roaming around the village and a few jovial ones eventually joined us. They showered us with a few hellos, smiled coyly, some staring curiously, but all were, yet again, eager to pepper us with their basic English Q&As. Little did we know that their friendliness pretensions were a plot, or should I say, an ambush. One by one, the little ladies trickled into a circle around us, holding up kaleidoscopes of rainbow colored souvenirs right at our faces. They were in eager desperation to publicize their work of art, in hopes of selling a bangle or two by the end of the excursion. “ You buy from me? ” that's the ONE phrase I keep hearing them say throughout the walk. Showing no interest at all, I pulled a smile on my face and walked silently up the pathway myself. Mama and Shuyi, however, were lured into their vivid portrayal of secret sweetness and innocence. Like gullible lambs aimlessly flocking into the den of a hungry lion, it was a hopeless battle to escape as Mama and Shuyi finally gave in and bought a few silver wristlets from them.
I stumbled upon a few children, on my way up the gritty pathway. Like any normal kids, they were hyper, angelic and playful. The little ones wore hand-me-down clothes two to three size bigger than their scrawny little bodies, every exposed skin was covered with layers of mud, dried up and possibly uncleaned for days. Crinkled mucus flowing from their nostrils to their mouths looked like stalactites hanging out from a cave. The dripstone snots seemed to have dried up and naturally evolved into larger columns of clumps overtime, dangling like an Indian nose ring left and right. Unlike kids from the urban cities, plastic toys or even Nintendo games were nowhere to be found in this village. Instead, any natural resources they could find or grasp on, be it an insect, muddy soil from the ground or even catching fishes in the sea, were their playtoys. I could not help but to observe a little boy picking up a dragonfly, torturing the insect by tearing its abdomen apart with a forceful kill. He then offered the body of the dragonfly to his little brother as he happily skipped away, jostling around with the head like a mask of a lion dance. This, to them, is their simple childhood enjoyment in life.
As we continued walking up the mountain, the afternoon sun took over the cold breeze and the fog slowly drifted away and dispersed into thin air. We reached at a peak where I was finally able to catch a glimpse of the clear landscape for the first time. It was then that every joints and limbs of my body refused to move. I stood immobilized, devoid of character, for a good 10 minutes. Stragglers behind me immediately jolted in response to my sudden halt. All looked on and there it was, right before us – the paddy gold mine of Sapa, the most spectacular view I've ever encountered. One angle after another, I was showered with thoughts of the unreal “Someone pinch me, please. Pinch me right now.... ”. Since dawn, trails of thick fog had taken refuge over the peak of the mountains and underneath them all, yawned an infinite piece of freshly cultivated land. Transitioning from the busy Quarters of Hanoi to tranquil Sapa, I was awe-struck and speechless as this seemed too surreal for me to materialize. Vietnam boasts of its richness in agriculture and is the second-largest rice exporter in the world. Chiseled at 90 degrees, following the contours of the mountain descending in a staircase manner, the terraced land was filled with Vietnam's precious paddy stalks, all planted in straight rows. I was told by our tour guide that the cultivation method between the North and South are different. Instead of individually planting stalks in straight rows, the Southerners scattered the seeds all over the flooded pad. Living as one of the lowest common denominator in Asia, water buffalos, were the cheapest machinery service they could afford for ploughing their rice fields. These animals spend most of their time in the fields, if not grazing away, they submerge their tired bodies in the muddy waters, just to enjoy the cool temperature and waiting for the next task to begin. I vainly attempted to take off my shoes just to experience the water that floods the fields, perhaps joining the water buffalos and the tribal workers, laboring in the squelching mud of a rice paddy. The sophisticated water irrigation systems for the field's daily consumption is a clever idea and very well-thought out, with its upper region holding the deepest flooding, descending downstream to the lower floods. Based on laws of physics, gadgets were built using conventional materials like bamboos woven with ropes made from local bush plants to serve as an extra device used to grind rice. These canals were cleverly built linking the rice fields together, with water flowing endlessly through a puzzling yet organized maze. Our van awaits at the end of the gate as the tour has finally come to an end. I turned and looked back for the very last time.....
I did not speak ...
.....but I saw it all....
.... The Paddy Gold Mine of Sapa.
