While in Hanoi we booked this excursion at one of the countless local travel agencies, and then early the next morning we waited in front of the agency’s office for the tour bus. A young woman met us there and introduced herself as Huen, our guide. Huen led us to a small SUV parked down the block and climbed in. A bit confused, we climbed in, too. Another young woman, Zhou, was curled up in the back of the vehicle, which was driven by a young man who was never introduced. Huen then read our itinerary for the day off of a tiny scrap of paper, and we were on our way. Zhou, it turned out, worked for the travel agency, too. There was not going to be a bus. We were, it seemed, on a private tour - with three guides!
However, our “guides” were all under the age of 22 and they didn’t know how to get to Mai Chau. There were some wrong turns. There was some pulling over to ask directions. But don’t worry, our guides didn’t mind at all. They were obviously all friends, and they were having a great time laughing at things we passed on the road, flirtatiously offering pedestrians a ride in our car as a joke, and shouting to each other over the Vietnamese boy band which they blasted on the car stereo. (The shouting, by the way, was entirely in Vietnamese, as Zhou and Driver spoke little English). Sometimes they just sat back and sang along to the music.
In other words, we were not on a private tour after all – we were on a teenage road-trip.
Eventually, we made it to our first stop: Giang Mo, a Hmong village of about 100 people.
This big pile of corn was outside the house we had lunch at. (I asked Huen whether the many dogs we saw in the villages were for eating, and she said most were. She also told us she really likes dog meat, it tastes good).
Here’s a photo of our guides on a pathway in the village. That’s Huen in front, playing with the puppy. Hmm.
And here’s the kitchen where lunch, or at least part of it, was prepared. At the first bite, my stomach began grumbling in fear of the many food-borne illnesses I could contract. Two people recently died of avian flu in northern Vietnam. I skipped the egg dish.
We then continued on to the White Thai village of Ban Lac, where we planned to spend the night.
The people in this area are primarily farmers.
But Ban Lac has also become a tourist spot in recent years, and the locals supplement their income by putting people up in their homes (below is the home we stayed in) and selling hand-woven textiles.
Our guides, who at this point we understood were in fact tourists, set off to do some shopping, and we tagged along.
Here’s one of Zhou trying on a Hmong outfit.
I bought a scarf from this woman like the one she's making:
Then we had dinner (is this dog meat?)…
And drank homemade rice wine with the kids and the local man who made it. They said, “bottoms up,” and Aaron obliged, many times. This seemed to please the man who made it and he was about to open up a third Aquafina water bottle of the stuff when it was time to go. There was a bonfire in a field down the road where we were going to see some traditional dance.
The performance was very good, but we were distracted during some portions by the squeals of a pig that was being slaughtered about a hundred yards away. It was a dark night, so we couldn’t see it, but we sure could hear it.
After singing along to a couple of Vietnam propaganda songs as we held hands around the bonfire with our guides, some locals, and a bunch of Vietnamese and Korean tourists (really? Oh yes, really), we climbed under our mosquito net and hit the sack. We needed a good night’s sleep because the next day we would be doing something. What exactly, we weren’t sure, as Huen’s English didn’t allow for details.
The roosters woke us nice and early.
Huen said, “We will go to market in nearby town. Is ok?”
Sure, sounds good, we said.
Had a quick breakfast, which included eggs for Aaron, the daredevil, and we were ready to go. Our car, unfortunately, was not.
Aaron, some villagers, and the girls tried to encourage the car to start:
That was not successful.
Huen got on her phone.
Then: “We will ride bicycles there. Is ok?”
Sure, of course, we told her. That’ll be fun. Huen got on her cell phone to arrange for the bikes. We waited for a bit.
Then: “We will walk there. Is ok?” No explanation of what happened to the bikes, but…
Sure, we told her again. Walking might be nice. So we walked for a bit. Huen got on the phone again.
Then: “We will borrow motorbikes!!!!! Is ok?”
Ah, shit. No way. That’s what I thought - but said, once again, Sure, sounds good.
Huen and Zhou ran back to the village to borrow some motorbikes, and next thing I knew, they were touring us through hilly farmland on tiny back roads. It was beautiful. As we rode past their homes, lots of little children shouted “hello, hello” to the big city girls and the whiteys they were hauling around.
This is pretty embarrassing, but here’s a pic:
When Driver got the car working again, we went to the market, which turned out not to be worth walking, bicycling, or driving to, unless you were looking to buy flip flops or a fresh hunk of water buffalo skin.
It was time to head back to Hanoi. On the way, we stopped off at a roadside market as the kids wanted to do a little more shopping.
Here they are, working hard to ensure we’re having a good time:
Only 70 cents for the big orchid Driver bought. (Back in Hanoi, we had to take a detour so he could drop it off as a gift for someone. A true professional right up to the end).
The trip was a real cultural exchange. They showed us how to eat sticky rice cooked over a fire in bamboo, unripe mango dipped in salt, and big sticks of sugar cane.
And we explained to them the meaning of words like “gonna,” “wanna,” and “Boricua” while we all listened to Jennifer Lopez pumping out of the little speaker on Huen’s cell phone. (Boricua was the most difficult to explain, as they hadn’t heard of Puerto Rico).
It was the best. I wouldn’t change my trip to Mai Chau one bit.
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