Da Lat: The City of Eternal Spring

We got off the plane at Da Lat Airport to mild weather and windy conditions. It was going to be 20 odd degrees the whole time so it was perfect weather that didn’t require you to sweat and didn’t freeze you to the bones at the same time. We settled down at our hotel and on the next day went on a half day tour. We visited the former Vietnamese King’s summer palace, the Da Lat cathedral, the Datanla waterfalls featuring a roller coaster, an amusement park named “The Valley of Love”  as well as the Truc Lam meditation center. From there we took a cable car that gave us sweeping views of the whole city. The next day, we checked out of the hotel and walked around town to look for the Da Lat railway station. That is a brief summary of our two days.

There is something about this town that draws you in, something about it is different from the places I’ve been before. Da Lat lies on a plateau 1500 meters above sea level, and boasts a year round temperate climate that stays at a refreshing 15-20°c for most of the year. This has earned it the title “city of eternal spring”. Then there’s the pine trees all around, the predominant species of trees in the entire area that it’s other nickname of “city of a thousand pines” comes from. These are the first two things you notice about this city, the temperate weather, and the pine trees.

The entire city is doused with European influence, from the layout to the architecture. The buildings here aren’t like the ones we saw back at Hanoi, narrow, tall and clustered together. Here there were buildings of French influence everywhere, scattered around like bird feed. The French founded this area in 1890, building a resort center in the Highlands. So from an uninhabited wilderness sprouted Da Lat, a city unafraid to boast it’s European roots. We saw this from the Da Lat cathedral, that stuck out amongst other buildings like a giraffe walking through tall grass. The architecture was European (French to be exact) and boasted a tiny rooster at the top of the cross, giving it the fabulous nickname “chicken church”. There was the abundance of Victorian style private housing and hotels, the oldest hotel being almost a hundred years old and spectacularly luxurious. The Da Lat train station was also designed by French architects and boasts an admirable facade. There was even a mini Eiffel Tower near the city centre that pretty much sums up the extent of the French influence. It was interesting because you soaked in the European ambience while knowing full well you were in Vietnam, a place far removed from Europe.

The pace of life here was slower than in Hanoi. The cars and motorbikes here didn’t honk as much (though they still did) and tour buses ferrying tourists around sort of sets the tone of the city. It is more of a place to relax and wind down than to grind it out like in the capital. This was a relief because when we were at Hanoi a few years ago we counted how many times the taxi driver hooked his horn in one trip. The answer had three digits. This is pure conjecture, but I feel like the European influence spreads not just to the architecture but perhaps the way of life as well, a more laid back approach. The Truc Lam meditation centre we visited pretty much said it all. If you wanted to slow your life down this would be a good place to start.

The western influence and the slow pace of life here leads nicely to the third point : that this city is a popular travel destination for couples, especially newlywed Vietnamese on their honeymoons. This was immediately evident on our tour bus: eighty percent of the bus consisted of couples, and there were only twenty people on the bus, and four of us. You do the math. We visited an amusement Park named the Valley of love, and it was literally a valley of love. There were hearts everywhere and even the park benches had the silhouette of two people eloping as the backrest. The rides were all in pairs and there were butterflies and flowers scattered about. Single people had a lot of places to be, but this amusement park was not one of these places. The pine trees and flowing lakes that puddled the land gives this place the added kick for couples to have a really good time walking around together. Add the magic of Christmas to this, and you get nothing short of perfection.

Da Lat has been lovely. You don’t see this often in the world, a small Asian town of primarily Western influence. There was some magic in this purely because you don’t expect it until you actually see for yourself. The Christmas lights dotted the town, the church spires glowed in the night and the miniature Eiffel tower stood quietly overlooking the town. The weather was chilly and couples held each other close, and you could swear you smelled a hint of firewood.

Sa Pa: Rice Terraces and Sunday Markets

We arrived early in the morning at Lao Cai train station after our overnight ride. A wall of morning fog greeted us along with the coldest temperatures I’ve felt for years. The forecasts said it would be 6 degrees upon arrival and it sure felt like it. We quickly piled on the layers and got onto the minibus that would ferry us to Sa Pa, a township at a higher altitude (and colder temperatures).

A forty minute ride and some uncomfortable sleeping positions later we arrived at our inn in Sa Pa, stiff from our night on the train. We had a long day ahead so we had some breakfast and quickly went to rest. After all, the freezing temperatures and morning fog left a lot to be desired if we were to roam the streets early on. We slept for a while eventually.

At eleven, we packed some warm clothing and water and went for our mini adventure in the mountains. We had a local guide show us the way from our Inn. Out on the streets we were surprised at how much the weather had cleared up. The morning fog was but a temporary fixture that once lifted, exposed clear blue skies that ran to the peak of every observable mountain, beyond as far as any eye could see. It felt great standing in the sun and to feel the thaw as it warmed you from the outside.

The city, too, was in full swing. There were shop houses selling colourful handmade goods, massage parlours, tour bus information counters and even a nice reflective lake that mirrored buildings that stood silently in the background.

The guide (who only rose to my shoulder) introduced herself as a member of the Hmong people, which comprises of less than 2 percent of Vietnam’s total population and are clustered mainly around the Northern parts of Vietnam. An interesting fact about the Hmong is that many of them migrated to America after the Vietnam war in 1975. There are now about 250,000 Hmong in the USA, Brenda Song (the actress who played London Tipton in The Suite Life of Zack and Cody) being among the most well known. The guides’ name was Pang, she was friendly and spoke fluent English, that of which she claimed to have learnt from fellow tourists.

We walked downhill as we cut away from the main road. Immediately we realised that we were unprepared for this hike, for it was truly (in every sense of the word) a hike. The path was wet with mud every once in a while, with little streams cutting through where we had to jump over, and sometimes we had to balance on rocks in order to get past obstacles. This may appeal to the inner adventurer in some, but it sure didn’t appeal to me. I had already experienced this before, day in day out, stuck in thick jungles covered in sweat and grime, ears ringing with mosquitoes and faced with a wall of green. This was not the kind of thing I could envision myself doing on a regular basis.

So at first, I wasn’t having the time of my life. In fact, I’d seen this all before in varying permutations, in some way or another. Well, that soon improved for two reasons. Firstly, I found the walk relatively easy though it lasted 5 hours, went up and down some severe slopes and included the blazing sun. They were things I’ve been through in more horrendous proportions, and for a few days at a time as well. The only real hassle was to avoid getting my civilian clothes dirty which with all the surrounding mud proved to be a tall order. Other than that I could deal with everything well, and it was a literal walk in the park. But that didn’t mean the walk was easy, for my parents and brother did have difficulties. There were steps that needed that extra helping hand, rocks that may give way upon being stepped on and streams in which your entire feet could submerge. We had 3 other Hmong villagers guide us along the way, holding our hands and helping us take the right steps so we wouldn’t slip and get muddy, sprain an ankle or fall off a cliff.

Secondly, I (and in fact we) was (were) amazed by the farmland culture and scenery of the area. The guides weren’t just a physical help, they talked a lot about their lifestyle. There were vast differences in average marriage age, childbearing age, sleep cycle, etc. as compared to back home where we had to focus on our studies more before building a family and establishing ourselves in this world. The life here was simple, the work here difficult but not overly complicated and human relationships built on basic pillars of trust and kinship. The doors had no locks and most things were shared. Instead of printing papers they sewed intricate fabrics out of stem fibers and natural dye. Instead of supermarkets they grew everything from rice to livestock. Instead of group assignments and project work, they worked together and helped each other unselfishly, fuelled not by grades but by community spirit (sounds so corny but I feel it’s true). It was astonishing to observe such a way of life, that manages to linger on for thousands of years with minimal influence from the outside world.

The scenery was also quite a treat, with Goliath mountains overlooking the villages in the valley, flowing clouds that peeked over the mountains but never really threatening to shield us from the warm sunlight. The rice terraces were a prominent feature of the landscape, covering the mountainside like large blankets with elegant postcard designs. They were as beautiful as they were large scale, covering so much land, you could only wonder at how much effort and how long it took for the previous generations to create. Both the natural scenery and the man made ones came together to give us views that were well worth the hike, views that we wouldn’t otherwise know existed if we had stayed in the city area all day.

Eventually we said goodbye to our guides at a cross junction and boarded an arranged bus back to our inn. We even bought from them some self-made scarfs, bracelets, small pouches and a miniature owl figure that was outrageously cute. It was heartening to see them walk away and up to the mountains where they lived their everyday lives, silently contented and continuing the customs and traditions of their elders. We arrived back shortly and now had one last problem; how should we start cleaning our muddy shoes?

* * *

The next day started out as early as the last. We woke up at 7 for breakfast and were off at 8 in our minibus to our next destination. We linked up with Pang (our Hmong guide from yesterday) and dozed through three hours of treacherous mountainside driving. We even witnessed the wreckage of an entire pickup truck after it left the road and plunged into the rapids 30 meters below. It was a chilling sight that kept is alert for a short while before sleep took over again.

We arrived at a Sunday market to 3°c temperatures, and a whole throng of locals weaving in and out of shops to get their groceries. A few tourists with digital cameras hanging around their necks (us included) were milling about. The market was quite a sight though, for I’ve never seen a market as prosperous as this in such unforgiving weather. Anything that could be sold was sold here. Puppies shivered at the ends of raffia-string leashes, live pigs were stuffed into large sacks, large bulls were put on sale for the price of US$2000. There was sweet popcorn, fried dough fritters, sugar cane, more hand-woven art pieces and everyday accessories. You could see a clear distinction between what was meant for the locals and what was meant for the tourists, but it all added to the vibrant atmosphere. We had a warm, filling lunch at a restaurant nearby and left for the next destination.

We visited a village (whose name escapes me though the guide did mention it) after that and had a look inside some of the houses to have a better idea of the Hmong way of life. As I had mentioned yesterday, it was a simple life. There was a systematic way of life as far as I could tell, where some houses were used to keep fertiliser, some for chickens to lay eggs (an animal garage as a guide told us) and some were for cooking. I found it strange that all the tourists were frantically taking pictures and approaching everything with wide eyed wonder as the villagers just carried on with their daily lives. Then again, if these villagers saw how we lived back home in Singapore we’d probably observe the same sense of intrigue and wonderment from them. Our lives were just that different and it was nice to appreciate these differences.

The rest of the day was spent taking a quick boat ride across an almost dried up river, and visiting the Vietnam-China border just 3km North of our train station. The river we rode on used to be 2 meters deeper but a hydroelectric power station built upstream dramatically lowered water levels so it posed a problem to the poor boat man. He had to manually push the boat through some areas with shallow water and it was disheartening to see that their jobs have been so adversely affected. We got off dry, though unfortunately the boat man was soaking wet from waist down.

That evening, we took our leave from Sa Pa the same way we came, through the train station. It has been an eye opening experience to explore the rural Highlands of Vietnam, seeing how a race so different from ours lived their lives. What has been even more interesting is the contentment of the people. Children smiled at you and offered to take pictures while the villagers were eager to lend a helping hand whenever we had any problems. There was a lot we could learn from just one short visit, though such lessons are so easily forgotten in the stir of our hectic lives back home. Writing this on the train, I can already feel the fading of wonderment. I realise pictures can only go so far to recreate a certain experience.

We’ll be back in Hanoi by now, flying off later to Da Lat down south for the next leg of our journey. There will be more to discover!

Hanoi: Fertility Statues and Hedgehog Meat

The landing was smooth, and we got off the plane to comfortable 12pm weather. Hanoi is roughly on the same latitude as Hong Kong and probably the same altitude, so the weather was roughly the same. According to whether forecasts, it was a frisky 15 degrees in the morning, and eventually there would be a high of 20 degrees in the heat of the afternoon. Of course, one wouldn’t even dare call it heat compared to the stifle of our oven nation.

Hanoi seemed largely unchanged at first glance. As we drove through the rural areas near the airport I tried to grab at memories of my one and only past trip here 5 years ago. There was still incessant honking of vehicles brought about more by habit than necessity. There were still slums and torn down old houses as I also observed in some parts of Thailand. But as we headed closer to the city centre I did notice that it was cleaner. Cleaner; but I wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe there was less litter on the floor, the furniture of the shop houses looked newer or maybe there were less stray animals ambling around. All these probably contributed to my definition of ‘cleaner’  though I couldn’t say for sure. It just felt cleaner.

We put our luggage at a backpacker hostel for storage and walked out onto the streets. The telephone poles were pregnant with thick live wires that stretched out like webs to every surrounding shop house. This intricate network looked set to overheat and burst into flames at any given time but surprisingly, didn’t. We walked on and crossed a road bustling with cars and motorbikes that didn’t necessarily follow their lanes, or any tangible traffic rule, for that matter. Every vehicle looked out for the other, only depending on their gut instincts (and evidently not traffic law) for their safe passage. A new order amidst chaos could be seen emerging.

Cautiously, we crossed the street. I recalled what I learnt from my previous trip all those years ago. To cross with conviction and to never hesitate. These are the kinds of pedestrians the motorists were used to so we had better follow their modus operandi, or risk brutal collision. And so we did. You could definitely cross blindfolded and nothing would happen; just walk straight across at a constant pace and every motorbike, car and van will avoid you narrowly. (But of course, no one would dare do that.) We ate at some tourist-oriented restaurant that had English menus and had a decent meal comprising of clear spring rolls alongside beef and chicken pho. These were hearty, but I could sense that there were better variations waiting on the streets. The next few days will reveal this.

We spent the afternoon sifting through the Vietnam Museum of Ethnology. My mom’s good friend who lives here brought us there and showed us around. It showcased the different ethnic groups in Vietnam, and had different exhibits and models for each. You know how Singapore is divided into four ethnic groups? We always learned this in Social studies and maybe you thought that was already a lot. Well, in Vietnam there are 54 different ethnic groups. Yup, no kidding. That’s a whole lot more social studies material to learn, and it made me feel tired just looking through all these exhibits. My mind wandered to different places and it was hard to keep focus through it all. Still, it was still interesting to see how all these groups existed with all their different customs and traditions (interesting, but not entertaining).

What was entertaining was the garden behind the museum that had dozens of structures simulating the accommodations and living spaces of some of these ethnic groups. So basically it was this huge green space with a path and a lot of nicely built wooden/straw/mud houses of different ethnic groups scattered around. They were life sized and surprisingly sturdy. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were handmade by the respective ethnic groups and propped up for display. Some were as tall as church spires, others as long as 2 SBS buses laid out end to end. There was even a (simulated) burial ground that had phallic statues surrounding it. Wooden statues of men showing off their genitals to statues of the opposite sex was the most interesting thing I saw. It seemed ironic that a place for the dead had rampant symbols of fertility and life around it but as explained to us, it was to usher in the new generation to replace those that have gone. Well, they do have a point there!

We had a buffet dinner at a street corner close to the backpacker hostel where we left our luggage. It was a hefty meal, with exotic food served such as quails, frogs, river clams, hedgehogs (!?) and small crabs the size of your thumb. The hedgehog tasted like rock hard pork by the way, something which I’ll never forget. There was Vietnamese cuisine alongside an international spread, and it filled us up considerably. The desserts consisting of chocolate fondue and fruits, beancurd, cakes, rolls and ice cream finished us off once and for all. We stepped out into the cool night air, mightily satisfied customers.

As of now we are on an overnight train to Sa Pa, a province North of Hanoi and a whole lot colder. We just said goodbye to my mom’s friend Linh, who had been a tremendous guide all this time recommending to us good food and good attractions, getting us the best taxi fares and what not throughout the day. We sincerely hope to treat her to a great meal in Singapore soon! Anyway, it’s quite a comfortable ride with nice soft mattresses and softer blankets. We even brought our own speaker to play a festive mix of Christmas songs while we while the night away; sleeping, dreaming, snoring to our hearts content.

Sa Pa tomorrow, the adventure continues.