I must have been forgotten by all the Sapa guides, as I was left to my own devices, for which I was glad, as my feet were simply too sore to move, and hence, I spent a leisurely afternoon at cool and calm Sapa, reading my book, chatting with people who came by, and watching the Singapore football team in action against the Vietnamese team. (or as I like to put it, watching my parent’s tax dollars roll)
It’s quite interesting to sit and watch the world bustle around you, you notice many amusing things, for example, two Korean boys running to the receptionist distraught, because they locked themselves out of their own room, or that ‘atas’ Singaporean yuppie trying to masquerade as a backpacker, when she ahd come back from Cat Cat (for the record, Cat Cat is the dead easiest trekking route that you wouldn’t break sweat over), bitching to all Caucasian males around me about the journey, whilst acting as if I didn’t exist even though I said ‘Hi’ to her in the morning. She’s probably a closet SPG trying to look “in”, amusing.
At approximately 16 30, I boarded the bus. Sleeping on the bus was a good idea, versus being awake, and watching the bus hurl down the winding roads of the mountain at 100+km/h. On the way down, the bus driver almost knocked into a toddler due to his fast and reckless driving, but instead of feeling apologetic, he seemed to thave hurled verbal abuses at the child’s guardian. Hmph!
Dinner was at Lao Cai, though the food served at the restaurant is an exact replica of what they serve at the Sapa Hotel, spelling mistakes intact. (think French Fried) Due to the nature of the crowds, I chose to seat myself near the two Korean boys. (yes, the same two who locked themselves out of the hotel back at Sapa) Perhaps due to their natural instinct to watch out for one of their own (Asians), they kindly walked with me to the train station in the dark, and offered to make arrangements for the three of us to get back to the Old Quarter together, since we were slated to arrive at 04 30. How nice of them!
I was thrown together with a Canadian couple in the train. They are pretty nice people, and we got a great laugh about the shoeshine boy’s sales jingle which went: “Uncle Ho shoeshine, best in Vietnam. No number one, no pay.”. That little tyke, who’s probably less than 10, was so persistant that he stood there and repeated his jingle for a full five mintues before moving on to the next cabin. Further disturbances of this nature was nipped in the bud, when the Canadian guy just bolted the door with a satisfied, “Ah ha!”
Traditional Knick knacks for sale in Sapa
Traditional Knick knacks for sale