Where should I start?

The plan was to take direct bus to Sa Pa from Phong Nha. At least, I had this plan, but the plan did not have me 🙂 There were no direct buses to Sa Pa (and okay, I will spare this one, because the drive is f*cking long – 13 hours).

My bus was 1 hour late, and I actually had to cross the street (unlike what I was told) for the bus to pick me up. Specifically, the bus came to where I was waiting for it first, they double checked something in their papers (probably when the next soccer match starts) and shrugged, meaning to say they were not my bus. The lady who booked my tickets had to call them to make a U-turn and pick me up at the opposite side of the road.

At 1:00 pm I was unboarded again in the fog where I could not see further than my nose. My nose could not see anything either, so after a brief discussion with each other, we settled down at the curbside, and that is when the official shitshow began. I realized I do not have the exact address of my homestay – apparently it was located in Tu Van village, but had no street, no number (I also doubt they had these in the first place). I tried to check the Grab prices, but without the exact address it was impossible, so I caught an EasyRider, and he said it would be 150,000 dong one-way.

Pretty pricey, but it was so 6.5 km away, so I guess the price was not too ramped up. I showed him the name of my place, asking several times if he knew where it was. He nodded, constantly saying “yea, yea, yea” and that is when I knew he did not have ANY whatsoever idea where it was and just wanted a customer. I did not have any other options, and things are figured out on the go too, so I agreed, thinking it will get sorted somehow. He set up my suitcase between him and the wheel, I sat down, holding my placebo bicycle helmet with one hand because it won’t stay still on my head… And we set out to my place, in the fog, along wet roads, on a motorbike where the only safety belt you have is a prayer.

The longer we drove, the deeper my heart sunk – I did not realize it was THAT far… At a certain point we had to cross a construction site through mud and hills and bumps – I thought, quoting Adele, that was the end, and when I heard a nervous giggle from my driver I knew I was not exaggerating. If a tourist on a bike in Vietnam is scared, that does not necessarily mean anything, but if you see a relief on your Vietnamese driver’s face you know you should probably give some money to the nearby church… Jk.

Remember I said things get sorted somehow? We arrived at Tu Van village, where – as I said – there were no streets, no street numbers, half of the ways were unpaved, and nobody knew where “Meli House Sapa” was (just as my driver, surprise!). Apparently, the definition of “somehow” is 1.5 hours under the rain, looking for the Vietnamese version of Ali Baba cave.

Just to clarify – I am trying to write in a fun way. I am not in rage (but I was). It depends on your mood at the moment – if you are not feeling lonely, do not have college stuff due, and are not heartbroken – this quest would be really fun. BUT I WAS, CARL, I WAS!!! We finally found two Hmong ladies which decided that if they show us where the Meli House Sapa is, I will buy something from them (I never confirmed this, but I do not think my voluntary agreement was even required).

An eternity later, we found Mely Wow Homestay which looked suspiciously like the house I booked on Booking.com. I was already thinking of tipping my driver a little more, just to acknowledge his efforts, even though it was partially his fault, when he told me it was now gonna cost 200,000 dong. Outraged, I told him I am only giving him 175,000 dong, and left to the house to check in.

No directions, no instructions, no heads up, in a foggy, quiet village with no people – that was too much for me. Benjamin said the check in was to be made at the nearby GingerBread House Waffle House, because the owner was friends with the Ali Baba cave owner, and handled check ins. That drew the line for me. Thankfully the waffle lady was quite nice, and she messaged Ali Baba, who said he would presumably cancel my booking with no fee (Booking.com did not allow customer cancellations at that point). Even if he did not and they would charge me the full amount, I did not care.

I could not book Grab at that location, but The Waffle Lady called a motorcycle for me for another 150,000 dong back to Sa Pa. I found a hostel 250,000 dong cheaper, and right in the heart of the town. While waiting for him, my kind-hearted ami made me some green tea, which significantly warmed me up.

This driver made me hold my suitcase, which left me only with one hand to hold on to the seat. Thankfully the placebo helmet at least stayed in tact with my head, haha. Several times we jumped on some bumps, and if I were not holding on to the seat, my suitcase and I would fly away into the fog and probably get lost somewhere in this Bermuda-Vietnamese triangle fusion. To be fair, the village was very nice in a sense that locals mostly dressed in amazing, colorful national clothing, and the place seemed to preserve the authenticity of the Hmong culture.

While exiting the village, we presumably met some friends of my driver, and they started talking between each other. At some point I got an impression the driver did not know where to go, so I got my phone to translate. I do not know how it happened, but my phone ended up among them, and I soon noticed they were looking at it with curiosity and pure amusement. I realized these guys probably still lived in late 90s. One of them – a young boy, approx 25 y.o. – had some nervous / mental disorder, and was roaring instead of talking, changing the tone of voice depending whether he was just saying something or asking a question.

Finally I got bored and took the phone away. We made our way to Sa Pa pretty fast, but my driver indeed did not know where to go. Several times I showed him the name of the hotel, finally turning on the GoogleMaps with a route, but he ignored it and still asked locals around. I literally do not know why he could not follow the maps, we would have made it at least 30 minutes faster.

Thankfully I checked in directly at the hostel, and even at the lower price as expected since Booking fees were not applicable. After putting my stuff away, I wondered around the city, looking for some warm food and spa. I saw a bahn mi stall, which said 25k – 30k – 35k. I have already noticed that food here was quite expensive, so I pointed my finger at 25K and the lady agreed. After a couple of seconds she glanced at me, smiled, and said “thirty”, while preparing my food. I smiled back and said “no, no, 25 bahn mi”. She nodded and continued cooking. After a couple of seconds the scenario repeated, but this time she said “thirty-five”.

ANYWAY.

I was walking around, talking to different spa’s who were calling me out trying to get inside. At one appealing place called “Habana” (irrrrrrony) I bargained a wee bit, bringing down the bath + massage package to 300,000 dong from 360,000; and finally, finally I soaked in the hot herbal bath, with full body massage treatment afterwards (which only cost me 17$ in CAD).

The next day, I settled down in a nearby cafe since I had a matrices test on Thursday and needed to prepare. I wouldn’t even mention it, but now I remember this cafe for two reasons: first, their egg coffee was disgusting, and you really have to try hard to make such a heavenly drink taste so bad; second, I met Annika from Hue.

The doorbell rang as people came and went, and once I instinctively raised my head, made eye contact with a girl, then returned to my computer—AND THEN IT STRUCK ME. People really do meet by pure coincidence; I’ve heard it before from others, and this was my third time encountering someone like that.

7:00 am next morning I grabbed my backpack, wallet, and set out to the Cat Cat village (1, 2 – you know the drill). I was slightly skeptical, as it was foggy, and cold (almost all of my clothes were in the laundry, so I was walking around naked in rather light T-Shirt and the legendary-wheelie red jacket).

I was stunned by the beauty of local wooden houses, fog-covered rice fields, the stores with national clothes and stands with local herbal medicine all around. Almost everywhere you could see the colorful embroidered lanterns and flower beds.

Of course, I could not resist the temptation and spent about 60CAD on souvenirs and a photo session (more on that later). It has been quite some time since I was trying to find the gift for the two of my brothers. One of the first stores that I passed in Cat Cat village was selling sets of embroidered sleeveless jackets and shorts. The owner really wanted to sell me something, but at that point I indeed, was just looking and evaluating prices. He kept deducting the price (200,000 dong) until I decided to get a handmade embroidered set for the new price of 100,000 dong (5CAD). Mind blowing, right? Except that when I went a little deeper into the village, I found same set for 50,000 dong. Some losses you just can’t predict.

I also found a national embroidered hat for 70,000 dong instead of 150,000 everywhere before… The Vietnamese grandma in her embroidered jacket and hat just like on the stand was weaving something (probably another jacket of hat) on some hell weaving machine. Then, I was passing by and met two ladies, one of them momentarily placed the bracelets on my hands, and the other one started playing on a small musical instrument.

A small marketing lesson – offering bracelets to a girl in fake leather jacket, army pants, with no makeup and clearly travelling alone has slim chances of success. Especially because (well, the Hmong lady did not know it, but still) I went to my tomboy mode again after Phong Nha 😦 But I easily fall for national and cultural things, like that musical flute or whatever. I bought it for 100, after the initial price of 300,000. The bracelet lady chased me, trying to offer better and better price of the bracelets, but at that point I have already spent too much to buy anything else. Although I still, to this day, feel very bad for not taking anything from her. Those couple of dollars is what they live off, after all, and even if I did not plan to wear the bracelets, maybe I should have bought them just to support her… I don’t know.