trekking on the rice terraces

Yesterday I went on a seventeen kilometre trek up and down the Sapa rice terraces with a guide and two Swiss travellers. It took all day and was quite hard work, as we left the normal tourist trail and hiked up and down a more 'advanced' track, but it was well worth it even if my ankles hurt a bit today.

During the trek we visited two hill-tribe villages: homes to the Hmong and Xay tribes. You know, they don't consider themselves to be Vietnamese, they can't speak Vietnamese, they have their own semi-autonomous arrangements, and they live in villages which have not obviously advanced technologicially in the last five hundred years. I'm glad I went; I nearly didn't in favour of lounging around.

Also, two days ago, while I was wandering the town, a woman dragged me (physically) to her market stall and was trying hard to get me to buy one of her swiss army knives. I thanked her, but said I didn't need one, and that I wouldn't know what to do with it if it bought it. She replied, 'no, no, very good, very good. You can use like this,' and jokingly held the knive against my throat adding with mock menace, 'give me your money now or I kill. I kill man.' I laughed and asked if her knives would be good for killing people with, and picked one up myself and started mimicking someone stabbing someone in the stomach. 'Yes! Yes! Very good for kill,' she said, 'you kill people good this knife, you buy, you buy.' I explained as best I could that homicide was not on my itinerary in Vietnam, but this didn't stop her shouting, 'no, come back man, you kill good, you buy, you buy,' as I walked away giggling. Street hawkers and sellers can be wearing but they can also be a lot of fun, and some have the most fantastic sense of humour.

I've been reading The Odessa File by Frederick Forsyth. It's as good as The Day of the Jackal although I do wish Freddie would do us all a favour and omit his dreadful sex scenes.

It's a beautiful day (I've been very lucky with the weather in Sapa), and time for me to start making my way back to Hanoi. I'm about to catch a minibus down to Lao Cai (where the train station is) and at 9pm I'll board the night train back to Hanoi. Arrival in Hanoi: 5am. Checking out is going to be something of a challenge. No-one in my hotel can speak English and they're pretty unwilling to have a go at attempting to communicate with me. I hope they'll get the message when I walk downstairs with all my belongs, and slap my key down on the desk.

My damaged shorts have been salvaged. Just. They don't look as they once did but I'm certainly willing to continue wearing them. I'll see to it they get a proper wash at the Old Darling Guesthouse, and then maybe they can go back into active service.