Sapa

Were I in a 70's prog-rock band, I'd have played all of my shows in Sapa for the free fog machine.

If I started my own winter wear label to be sold at JC Penny

and Montgomery Ward, I'd call it Sapa Fog.

If I opened up a pho restaurant here, I'd call it

Phog

I’ve seen a jovial, skillful hackey-sack game become unplayable with the ball in mid-air due to the onset of aggressive, impromptu fog here in Sapa. The street vendors and market stalls are at the mercy of the weather’s unpredictability, where the temperature can drop 15 degrees in seconds and make the streets so completely blurry that one cannot see 10 feet in front of them, bringing business activity down to its knees. 

It's sad, frankly, that my introduction to Sapa involves the mundane reality of its fog. It's not really that big of a deal. It's cold for Vietnam, but not really all that cold, as it's still winter. Yes, the fog is somewhat unique, but it becomes a nuisance very quickly and unremarkable equally fast. I speak of the fog for the same reason other people speak about the weather when talking to strangers: you don't know what else to talk about. You might really want to say something much more personal, but you stick to the weather, as it's safe and easy. Why can't you get personal? Because you might not do justice to sincerity. Stick to the surface. Show a bunch of mediocre photos and keep it simple.

Entrance to my hotel. The lady sweeping: expert sweeper, bad 

at hospitality.

Maybe this is common in other countries, but do hotels usually close?

"We close at 11," the owners of the hotel tell me. 

"What if I stay out until past 11?" I ask very reasonably.

"We close at 11," I'm retold in exactly the same manner.

I'm not talking about the hotel staff closing the front desk, or to the restaurant, or to the other amenities usually available at hotels. I'm talking about a guest being shut out of their rooms if they get back too late, locked out at the front door of the hotel. It's a bit of a shock, as it's a relatively decent hotel. If this is normal, then just call me unworldly.

View from my balcony

Balcony view panned to the right from 

previous photo. Hoang Lien Mountain Range is in the distance.

View from above.

Honestly, one of my favorite things about being in Vietnam is randomly hearing a lone man, woman, or child shriek at the top of their lungs, when the streets are completely silent "Im di! (Shut your mouth!)", "Toi biet! (I know!)",  "Sua! (Milk! or Fix!, I'm not entirely sure which they meant at the moment)" or something to that extent. I often hear group shouting or laughter in Vietnamese, usually from some bar, of course, but when I hear that lone blast of scattershot Vietnamese from my balcony, it's very amusing, and always a happy reminder of where I'm at.  

I came into this post with the idea that I'd make it photo-centric because I've neglected to post anything in the past couple of weeks, and since Sapa is a very scenic town, it would only make sense to at least give a basic rundown of what I've been seeing for the past fortnight. I don't like many of the photos (my camera is far too limited lens-wise), though, but I've basically been at a loss for words, so I found myself not wanting to post any photos nor write anything that wouldn't do right by Sapa. There's plenty to write about. I reckon there cannot be too many places like this in the world. 

It has only recently dawned on me that the largest reason for my befuddlement is that I’ve never spent significant time in a small town. One could travel from one end of Sapa to the other in about 5 minutes on a motorbike, and I’m thinking I wouldn’t even make it out to the old Phar-Mor by Almeda from Mom and Dad’s place in 15. It's obviously not that big of a town, and the grand total of tourists from abroad wouldn't figure so high either, however, the ratio of tourists to locals is likely pretty high, as evidenced by the clientele at the coffee house I'm writing this in: I'm surrounded by French, German, Vietnamese, British, and Norwegians or Swedes (one is sporting a Mayhem t-shirt, so I figure a Scandinavian). Yet it's a small town. A small Vietnamese mountain town. I don't know if I knew there were mountains in Vietnam a couple of years ago. A town where my supervisor at work gave me the telltale "You do one thing in Sapa, and the next day, everyone knows about it," advice when I first arrived in town. Surely a part of why I'm hesitant to write much, or anything at all, is that I feel I might be violating some type of small town code by doing so. 

Furthermore, you see, I have been teaching while I've been here. I've been teaching some very special students who come from very special circumstances, are currently living very demanding and unique lives, and are likely to have very singular and bright futures ahead of them if they play their cards right. I want to respect the boundaries of the classroom and not make mention of them outside of it, but as a whole bunch of my time has been spent working with them since I've been in Sapa, that leaves me not much to write about without feeling a bit uneasy. I even debated putting up the previous photos of two of my students, though I feel it's a bit more okay as it was a weekend trek they took me and my fellow teachers on, on a Sunday and outside of the classroom. 

What to write about when I feel I cannot write about it, and what to snap photos of with a camera I have no confidence in? I think I can only write about Sapa once I leave.

Fansipan in the distance.

Mt. Fansipan is the highest point in Vietnam at 3,143 meters. It looms over Sapa like an ever watchful mother. This is not just some fancy metaphor. All I could see  when I first laid my eyes upon it is my mother's very iconic signature (at least to the members of my family). This photo doesn't quite capture its similarities to Mom's signature, as the jagged peaks in person are just as dramatic as Mom's spastic-heart monitor autograph. I think of you, Mom, every time I see it, and I was looking at it when I spoke to you on the phone during your birthday. I love you, Mom. Happy Ash Wednesday.