Upon arriving in Sapa I stopped at a storefront advertising guided tours to the local villages. I booked a two day trek, leaving the following morning with a homestay in Lao Chai village. The details, where we going, how many miles we were trekking, and how many others were in the group, were murky, but I was unconcerned. The urban centers intrigue me, but it's the mountainous regions, fertile from the rivers that weave through their basins, that make my heart flutter. I crave being lost on a trail, in the middle of nowhere, as far from modern life as possible. Given the recent unseasonal snow and rain in Sapa, we were fortunate with a warm, sunny day. Terraced fields carved into the hillside were dotted with men, women and children hoeing the land planting corn, cabbage, and roses. Rice will be planted in May and harvested in August. Words, nor photos, can express the natural splendor of this region. I had found my bliss. Our group was small, three in total, Chatelle, from New Zealand and Nicolas from Singapore, the latter along for only the day trek. In the late afternoon we stopped in Lao Chai for the night. We meandered down a path through the rice paddies to the river, and sat on the banks aware of our good fortune. From the fields we heard children playing, and soon lanky adolescent bodies covered in mud were squealing towards the water. A class of eighth graders from a private school in Seattle were traveling in Vietnam for the month. Their task on this leg of the trip, to help the locals turn over the soil, turned into a zealous mud fight. I admired their spirit and wondered about the impact this experience would have on their lives. One boy, Jimmy, was in the midst of deciding where to attend high school in the fall. He said the trip to Vietnam had changed, made him more independent, and consequently made him think differently about his future education. Back at the homestay, Chatelle and I drank local fruit wine reminiscent of cheap port and played pool. We were joined by four girls from Hong Kong and a couple from Isreal, Noa and Ami, whom I had encountered twice before in Sapa. They were looking for a place for the night, and I recommended our accommodations. We all crowded into the kitchen to help our hosts make spring rolls for dinner. The meal was a feast -- fried potatoes, soup, sauteed greens and cabbage, spring rolls, pork and beef. We devoured every morsel. The four of us remained on the porch talking about our various transitional situations -- Chatelle is embarking on a year in Nepal teaching English. Ami and Noa, recently married will soon complete their five month trip and return to Isreal. Having completed nine years in the army Ami will begin looking for a job in the civil work force. As the orange super moon rose in the east, we discussed many topics -- the purpose of American war in Vietnam, day to day life in Israel, career choices, Purim, travel, and relationships. The conversation was easy, convivial as if we were old friends. It's this interaction with people from so many diverse backgrounds that makes me love to travel. My exposure to the world isn't just through the prism of the country I'm visiting, but through the myriad life experiences of those I meet along the way. By 10pm we were asleep. Morning came early when the roosters started to crow and we prepared for our trek to Ta Van village. Another perfect day.
