Wicker backpack?
Today we took the Ethnic Minority Village Tour Lite. (We found out we
were on the Lite version when we filled out our customer satisfaction
survey.) According to Death’s GPS, it was about an 8 km walk. But it
was over terrain. We descended from the road running along the middle
of the hill to the river below, walking past terraces where rice is
grown in June. They were full of ducks and pigs and water buffalo at
the moment. The view ranged from tremendous, when the clouds pulled
back from the mountain tops and reminded us why the terrain we were in
was so steep, to subdued, when the cloud layer dropped to our level or
below, and only a few terraces were visible. We wound our way through
three villages, populated by the Black Hmong, the Red Dao and the
Giay.
Our guide, Thê was disparaging of the Black Hmong, who haven’t
taken advantage of the schools that the Vietnamese government has
built, and who marry young, around 14 or 15. He advised us not to buy
anything from the kids along the path, because they were skipping
school to try to make money. They were working in the fields, and
caring for their baby siblings as well. We saw some hoeing the side of
the hill, turning it into more terraces.
We spoke about the difficulties of bringing in teachers to such a
rural community, and how the teachers who volunteer to come teach
often get demoralized and leave. I talked about my sister, Julia, who
had a similar difficult teaching experience in New York City.
It was a beautiful day for a walk. Cloudy enough to be cool, but with
enough breaks in the clouds for the beautiful scenery to shine. We saw
a hydropowered turbine from China that supplied approximately 300
watts, according to our guide. I asked what they used it for, since
you can’t do much with 300 watts, as far as I know. He said, “A few
lightbulbs, and a TV, if they turn off all of the lights.”
The bigger village (Lai Chao?), further down the valley, was connected
to the national grid, and those guys had satellite tv. Crazy. And our
guide had cellphone coverage on much of our walk. So much for being in
the middle of nowhere.
According to Thê, the Giay have embraced education and other
help from the Vietnamese government, and look more to the future. They
also avoid wearing their traditional garb when they head out to
market, because they don’t like being a spectacle. In their own
villages they wear bright colors. Very bright colors. Kelly green,
pink, orange. Yowza. Needless to say, Death thought the Black Hmong
had the best taste.
So it was too bad that it was a Red Dao who started chatting with me
to see if I was married to Death, and when she found out I wasn’t, she
started chatting with Death to see what he was looking for in a
wife. Because she knew some girls. I thought it was
hysterical. Apparently Death looks very good for 30.
After Death helped support the local community by buying pillow covers
at the recommended shop, we headed back to Sapa to really spend
money. Between us, we spent over 1.25 million dong on various handmade
goods. Over dinner the night before, I had tried to convince Death to
buy one of the wicker basket backpacks that the Hmong women wore to
carry their goods. I personally coveted a set of wicker saddlebags for
my bicycle. However, I also let slip that I thought the wicker
backpacks were cool. So Death made sure to point them out in the
market, and lo and behold, I bought one. Only after Death promised
he’d help me figure out how to deal with getting it back to the
States. It’s awesome. I still can’t believe I bought it.
It’s one of the few items that is commonly used by local people that’s
not actually commonly bought by tourists. People who saw me wandering
the market with it would smile, and pat it, and ask me how much I paid
for it. Death and I weren’t sure if they were wondering how much I was
willing to overpay for things, and therefore how much they should ask
if I wanted to buy something of theirs, or if they were wondering if
it would be worth buying or making and trying to resell to other crazy
tourists.
I ended up buying more than I thought I would. Death is a bad
influence. I was overwhelmed by the end. A few random gifts. A Hmong
marketeur costume for the next time I have to dress up.