Among the Hmong!
During the day, we rose early to meet up with a local Hmong tribe girl who would take us trekking through the mountains and past a couple Hmong villages. It was the best way to see Sapa. From the side of the mountain, off the road, in the middle of the rice fields that were carved into the mountainside like steps. And every inch of my almost 40 year old body was feeling those steap climbs. Winded, Mai Mai stopped frequently to ask me if I was okay. When I must have looked like I was lying, she would take my hand and lead me up the mountain side, encouraging me "only a little more". She spoke wonderful English and was very sweet. She said she learned English from the travelers she guided day in and day out. She knew a few songs in English as well and begged Elena and I to sing a new one for her.
Hmong women work very hard. There are basically 3 ways to work to help make money for the family: tour guide (trekking every day), selling things to tourists, or working in the rice fields (most definitely the hardest job of them all). The Hmong boys mostly take care of the animals. Vietnamese work 7 days a week. No breaks. Except for holidays, there is not a day that things close. Every day blends into the next. Many people live at the place they work, laying down mattresses on the hard floors at night. The work ethic is high, with every job performed by hand. Every plant in the fields are sowed and watered by hand (water being carried in buckets). Every piece of gravel laid to make a flat surface for the pavement is broken into small rock shardes with a sledge hammer. Everything is labor intensive. Yet at the same time, it takes an abnormally long time to get anything done and at least 6 people to do it. Asking our guide which was the best kind of work to do, she revealed that she'd like to be able to do whatever she wanted all day long. Walk around, do nothing, relax. I answered a lively, "Yah, me too!", realizing that some things cross all boarders. Then it dawned on me, as I looked up to the highest mountain, Fanispan, to gaze upon the beautiful shape it created above us, I am doing whatever I want.....right now. How inspiring is that!!!!
In the mountains, the Hmong tribes were named similiar to their traditional dress. They wraped their heads with colorful scarves, which stacked on top very similar to a bee-hive hairstyle from the 60s. Tay Hmong, Black Hmong, White Hmong, Flower Hmong and Red Hmong were just some of what we saw. Each describing the head-dress. These women were very shy, spoke no English, and kept to themselves. They had no reason to deal with us foreigners. Walking with our guide allowed us into places we could not have intruded upon otherwise. Mai MaiAt would lead us, and with that act alone, we were accepted. The women were busy pealing potatoes, laying them flat on the cement to crisp them for storage, drying hay for brooms, cleaning soy beans and corn, washing clothes, and sewing by hand. The hand stictched embroidery was amazing. They turned plain black fabric into pieces of art. Some stitched with yarn, some with colored string. Every member of the family practiced this craft. I was even able to buy a piece from a local woman, who added a few local coins into the wall hanging. With the charm and helping hand of our guide, we peering into a lifestyle of the Hmong. At the end of the day, Mai Mai held our hands and wished us good luck in the rest of our travels. We knew that tomorrow she was off to show her piece of the world to another set of wide-eyed travelers. And we would charish the private side of the Hmong.