Highland Trekking

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I am high up in the northern Vietnamese highlands in a place called Sapa--the Vietnamese alps. It's beautiful with lush green rice paddy terraces and thick mists that languidly curl around the mountain tops. Naturally, because I am here, it's also raining. I expect that monsoon season will come a month early to India as well when I arrive. Sigh.....The rain has given me a cold and a slight eye infection (aren't only school age children supposed to get pink eye)...but no matter...i won't let it get the best of me.

In Sapa the main thing (actually the only thing) there is to do is go trekking. Rain or shine. Pink eye or white. So yesterday I headed out determinedly with gortex boots, a rain slicker, and a flimsy hotel umbrella that clearly shouted "tourist. My guide came to meet me and I almost laughed out loud when I say her. A 3' 8" girl foot dressed in the traditional Black Moum tribal clothes introduced herself. Chi was her name and she was going to be my fearless (small) leader through peril and rain through the highlands. I wasn't sure how this little mini-me could lead me, the towering clumsy giant. But Chi was excellent. She wasn't 12 as I thought but rather 25. She spoke English, a little French, Vietnamese and her own tribal language. Pretty impressive as she had not gone to one day of school in her life. (many tribal children are called upon to stay at home and help with chores as opposed to going to school). She taught herself languages from the tourists. She desperately wanted to go to school now and learn to read and write them all, but she was deemed too old. After listening to her life story, i immediately drafted up a fantasy of opening up a school for the Asian hill people...a school that would be open to all ages and work within their hectic schedules.....yes, I would eradicate illiteracy in southeast Asia and be featured on Oprah. How I am going to fund this venture I have not figured out yet.

As I pondered my school, Chi lead me through the muddy paths through various villages. Before out ascent up the mountain I showed her my eye. She immediately escorted me to a village doctor/school teacher/fabric maker/pig raiser. The "doctor" insisted in sticking her finger in my eye. "Mmmmmm" she mumbled knowingly. She then left and came back with a box full of (presumably ill gotten) medicines. She rifled through it and picked out a likely cure and offered it to me for only 20,000 Don. It was Pepto Bismol. Yeah, I don't think the pink stuff would help the eye, although it may provide relief for overdosing on spring rolls. I asked her if i could see the medicine box myself...Hmm..laxatives, allergy medicine, ahh...I found it..a yellowish bottle of liquid with a picture of an eye. This was what I needed! Chi gestured for me to lie down while she poured the stuff in. The "doctor" held my hands...i didn't understand the restraint procedure until Chi let the liquid hit my eyeball. Searing pain. I was sure she had convinced a neighboring water buffalo to come over and urinate in my eye. I shot up and did a little "pain dance." But after a few moments the pain subsided and my eye felt much better. What do you know, bottled water buffalo pee works!

I was going to need my right eye to help me navigate up the rice terraces in dense fog. For we were not going to walk amid them...but rather IN them. The path we wanted had been washed out by rains so instead we had to scale the rice terraces up. Little Chi had to hold my hands numerous times to keep me from slipping. She was graceful and dainty hopping through the water and mud....but i seemed to slide around it it. The hills were a giant slip n' slide. Rain pounded, thunder echoed, and I started regretting being coaxed by the tourist office to see the "wonders" of the hills. At least I had my gortex boots on. The Vietnamese must laugh at us Americans (or Europeans) who actually PAY MONEY to do this. I had paid $50 to be miserable for 5 hours. I was hiking through rain and mud with zero visibility for what? I guess I could go back to the plush lodge and say 'Yes, i just got back from a trek. Oh no, that rain couldn't keep me down....great workout up these amazing rice cliffs. So what did you do? Stayed indoors by the fire? Oh. I see. Not athletic inspired, eh? Hmmmm...well adventure isn't for everyone. (flex muscles)" Even though all I could think of during the 5 hour misery trek was indeed sitting by the fire drinking a glass of bordeaux laughing at the tourists who were stupid enough to hike. The fire image was particularly appealing when Chi told me we were going to have to fjord a river. Fjord a mid thigh-high river. She, naturally, pranced around on rocks and made it to the other side safely. I, naturally, slipped on the first rock and immersed my self in brown water. My gortex boots were acting AGAINST me as now they were keeping the water IN! Sigh.

I know now why the French and the Americans lost their battles here.....Vietnam terrain is no match for western trekkers. At least not this one. Incidentally they call the "Vietnam" war here the "American War," Obvious...yet also makes you think more a bit about what happened.

After my trek was over Chi and the driver drove me back to my trusty lodge. No one recognized me. I resembled a red-eyed mud troll. But after I showered I went straight to the fire, hoping to find willing listeners to my trekking tale and impress upon them how wonderful the highlands outdoors are.