Guess Who's Coming to Dinner.

Cooking over an open bamboo fire, our hosts prepared a fabulous meal.
As the bamboo burns, you shove the unburned section further into the embers.
It burns so slowly, that it can easily be re-ignited hours later for tea.

Everything was fresh and flavorful. The plastic bottle held home-distilled

rice alcohol, which tasted like a mild grappa. We drank copious amounts
with our host, with no ill effects.

The family: our host and his wife, two sons, and a daughter
who did most of the cooking. Our guide is seated next to P.

The family dog patiently reminded us of her presence and willingness
to share the dinner by laying her head on our laps.

It did her no good, but that didn't seem to dampen her spirits.

P.

Home-stay Is Where the Heart Is.

The Giay people are a bit better off than their H'mong and Red Dao neighbors, mainly because they have embraced education and encouraged tourism.

The family we stayed with built this home-stay, primitive by
our standards, but a major investment for them.

The accommodations are basic, but comfortable. This was
the loft where we slept.

There's room for large groups, but we were the only guests.

The most expensive part of the facilities is the
shower room/squat toilet pavilion, palatial by local standards.

As the sun sank lower, the view from the veranda got even more spectacular.

The owners' grandson entertained us and himself by improvising a pull toy.

Later, we walked around the village.

Gorgeous vistas.

And a cat on a hot tin roof.

After our walk, we enjoyed a cold beer.

And the world's best garlic fries.

P.

The Trek Continues.

After we had lunch and a much-needed rest, we emerged from

the restaurant to find the hawkers still waiting for us.

But their hearts weren't really in it at this point, and they gave up
after only five or six nos.

This part of the trek was mostly uphill through the gently rolling landscape, past paddies

and over streams.

We encountered more water buffalo

and chickens

and ducks

and butterflies

and children

and villagers

and incredibly vivid scenery.

And then we reached the Giay village where our home-stay is located.

P.

In Which We Become Trekkies.

Just before we started our trek through the mountains to the ethnic minority village where we would stay the night with a local family, it started to rain.

Luckily, we were prepared for this eventuality.

Vietnam has dozens of ethnic minorities. The three main groups
around Sapa are the Black H'mong (see the ladies above),
Red Dao (pronounced zow), and Giay (pronounced zai). The women,
who all seem to know at least a little English, walk in to town
to hustle the tourists, while the men stay home and take care of the
fields, the animals, and the children.
The older woman had a baby on her back.

As we began the 8 km trek to the village, we attracted an entourage
of hawkers, all with the same questions: "Where you come from? How old are you?
How many children?" O. told them many times that we weren't
interested in their wares, and several dropped away, but others persisted.

We walked downhill through the cool drizzle past thick stands of bamboo
and pine. The vegetation is a combination of alpine and tropical.
The guide told us that the trails were too slippery and we must take the road.
We were disappointed at first, but later we encountered
several other trekkers who were covered with mud and were
glad we'd listened to the guide.

At first, the floor of the valley was hidden in mist and sudden squalls of rain.

But gradually, the mists cleared and the rain slackened and
we could see the verdant landscape.

The sinuous rills of the rice paddies--years of arduous hand labor.

We passed many traditional houses.

Chickens waiting for the rain to abate.

Water buffalo grazing by the side of the road.

Preening ducklings.

Clouds of huge, golden butterflies.

Finally, we could see the valley we were headed for.

At last we reached the first Black H'mong village. O. is still
trying to explain that she doesn't want to buy anything.

The little riverfront restaurant where we had lunch.
We were very glad to rest our aching feet and backs. We walked a lot
in Hanoi, but not carrying overnight packs. We're sore.

P.