Encounters with the shy - and not so shy - tribespeople of Vietnam

Sorry, you can't have breakfast. There's no bread in Sapa." This was how the waiter at the Bon Apetit restaurant greeted us just as we were settling down to sate our growling bellies. It was about 8am and we'd only just arrived at the northwestern Vietnamese hill station after an eight-hour overnighter on the train from Hanoi and then another 90-minute climb up the mountain by bus.

But despite the announcement of the lack of loaves - it was Têt, Chinese New Year, after all and most of Vietnam had gone into hibernation - we were pleasantly surprised by the gem that was Sapa.

It's a little town nestled in the bosom of the Hoang Lien Son Mountains - "the Tonkinese Alps", as the range was named by the French.

Sapa is so small, in fact, that you can walk the length and breadth of it in just half an hour, provided you're not averse to climbing steps and dodging lots of beeping motorcycles.

Though we had failed to find breakfast, the day had got off to a good start. We'd managed to convince the bus operators in Lao Cai that the trip up the mountain should only cost US$5 (Bt165) per head. According to the "Lonely Planet", we'd each saved a whole dollar.

Plus, four of us had relatively luxurious rooms waiting at the Victoria Sapa Hotel, and well worth it even at $140 per room. The fifth, and perhaps smarter, member of our party had found lodging downtown for a mere $5 a night. Sapa being such a small place, however, the rest of us were prepared to let our world revolve around the hotel.

Received at check-in with cups of warm apple-and-cinnamon tea, we discovered a veritable feast on offer at the hotel's Ta Van restaurant. The tables were groaning with freshly baked bread, cold cuts and endless cups of coffee. We even got the chef to serve us made-to-order omelettes.

Guests can also enjoy the beauty of Vietnam's highest peak - the Fansipan - from their balconies, though its majesty was shrouded in thick mist all three mornings we were there.

We were warned about the acute temperature changes in Sapa, though this is an atypically warm winter, apparently. A chilly 18 degrees in the morning climbed to around 28  by the afternoon then dropped down as far as 0 at night. Luckily our rooms and even our bathrooms had radiators.

With satisfied bellies and snug in jumpers we ventured outside, trying not to make eye contact with the Hmong women waiting by the steps. Originally a Black Hmong settlement, Sapa was "discovered" by Europeans in 1918 and instantly acclaimed as a cool summer escape. The Hmong, traditionally reticent, were quick to seize the commercial opportunities of this invasion.

We were met with a chorus of "you buy from me?" - a refrain that was to follow us for the rest of our stay. The promise of a purchase later, followed by a swift sidestep into the nearest shop, eased the pressure for a bit.

The guidebooks say there are around nine tribes in Sapa, but we only got to admire the colourful costumes of the Black Hmong. The women wore vivid, hand-woven skirts, the men impressive dark shirts and trousers overlaid with strips of futuristic-looking shiny material. "A real Star Trek convention," one onlooker suggested.

The hotel attracts a lot of honeymooners, probably thanks to the intimacy of the fireside and the romance of the hilltribes. Newlyweds receive a hilltribe shawl and hat at check-in. "It's all in the ethnic spirit of things," explained general manager Ronan Bianchi.

While the hotel's "ethnic spirit" displayed a respect for the local culture, at times things bordered on kitsch. A pair of hilltribe women worked on a loom and spinning wheel in the lobby, the do-not-disturb signs in our rooms were hand woven and there was a cultural performance every Saturday. 

Bianchi said the hotel, which gives its French cuisine some ethnic accents, was also planning to sell spices and honey from the local area.

The Victoria hotel group takes care of the local environment too, with a "green day" every September, when local schoolchildren are encouraged to clean the streets in exchange for treats.

"We're even trying to send a little Hmong girl to school when she's ready," Bianchi said. The hotel has a steady turnover of staff - the independently minded tribes retreat regularly to the hills, especially during Têt.

"But this is the best time to visit," Bianchi assured us. "It's a great opportunity to catch up with the tribes. They'll even invite you into their home and press a glass of rice wine in your hand."

The hotel, along with other travel agents in town, offers trekking excursions and hilltribe homestays. Short on time, we settle for a spectacular view of the town from the Ham Rong - Dragon's Jaw Hill - and snapping up bargains at the Bac Ha Market.

Things here are deliciously cheap. Earrings made from hand-beaten silver cost a dollar, a brightly coloured bedspread was bargained down to $6, and pretty paintings of hilltribe vistas were on offer for a mere $10.

Breaks between purchases were spent at the charming coffeeshops along the way, where we discussed what we single women would do at the notorious "Love Market" if given a chance. Part of a longstanding tradition in Sapa, single hilltribe men and women gather every weekend to attract a partner through the power of song.

As we climbed into our train bunks we made a mental note to plan our next trip for a weekend if we were still without a partner - and make sure it didn't coincide with a major holiday if we wanted breakfast in town.

Ramona Varma

The Nation