-¡Money, money!
Those were the words of welcome given to us by a group of women from the Black Mong ethnic group., when we go out to explore the streets of Sapa. We were greeted with the abruptness of a craft sale, without greeting or smile. The streets seemed like an indigenous showcase and tourists photographed the colorful dresses and the forced joy on the sidewalks..
Between massage centers, restaurants and travel agencies there was no room for magic. Women reign in Sapa awaiting your arrival. They ask for a dollar if you point the camera at them and they guard the bags of fruits and vegetables. It was necessary to get lost a little, try to avoid the postcard images to understand the place. There was an internal market, more secluded, aged and somewhat gloomy due to the rain that was beginning to intensify. Some men drank rice liquor and several groups of girls ate and laughed without that stoic air they adopted in the street stalls..
We shared a table with some of them and ended up toasting with the men. Once stripped of the role of indigenous, the people of Sapa were more cheerful, but there it was difficult to find the essence behind the costume and I am not referring to the embroidery, to the long blue and red skirts or the wicker baskets, but to the pose.
Once stripped of the role of indigenous, the people of Sapa were more cheerful
A group of women approached us on the street and we decided to talk without cameras for a while. They ended up inviting us to a small town so we could get to know the real atmosphere of the rice terraces, without the backpacker hubbub. Then Juan intervened., our Vietnamese guide, to warn us that this was dangerous. Was it dangerous to drive fifteen kilometers to see a town with its indigenous traditions?? Juan showed a gesture of disagreement when we improvised the route, when we decided to bet on the surprise. It was actually a control measure. He had to supervise our recording plan and nothing could go out of schedule, but I didn't understand that part of the essence of our trip lay in uncertainty.
We ended up arguing at the hotel. When Juan got angry, His Spanish was almost unrecognizable and except for words like “coño”, “fuck” or “impossible” the rest of his speech was a mystery. What was clear to us was that it bothered him that we changed the route. Even so, We decided to travel to a town called Ta Van and he agreed, muttering to himself.:
-“So I can't flop in nomo and I'm going to Hanoi, pussy!”.
We accepted the outburst and moved away from Sapa. And it was the path between one town and another where reality was filtered, because there where no one stops, life goes on. We were able to record water buffaloes grazing on the ridges of the rice terraces, children fishing in tiny pools, to women shrugging their shoulders without snapping their fingers asking for reward.
And it was the path between one town and another where reality was filtered, because there where no one stops, life goes on.
Ta Van is not Sapa, but tourism has already helped to restructure a town full of hostels and some bars to rest the weight of the landscapes when night falls in front of a bottle of beer. We went off the path, deliberately and crossed a path that surrounded the town. This is how we discover the back, the patios where families shell the cobs or the corner where the elderly smoke their pipes. We ended up smoking with them, talking about the differences between the black and blue mong or the tai. They all live together in the villages of the mountains of Vietnam., all accustomed to planting rice and cornfields.
We reserved that evening to enjoy the sun climbing the terraces of the mountains. We let ourselves be seduced by the play of light and shadows, for the softness of the hills combed by man, and in that moment, without the presence of man, the landscape regained its magic.
We let ourselves be seduced by the play of light and shadows, for the softness of the hills combed by man
We would still have to argue many times with Juan to stop here or there, but our guide, maybe due to exhaustion, agreed to go where we proposed. And we had proposed traveling to Mu Can Chai. Pablo was studying maps, drawing lines and collecting information and suggested traveling there. That little town didn't appear in the tourist guides, but it was a terraced area. Maybe the perfect combination we were looking for..
Several wooden houses overlooked a violent river. The current crashed on the shore. The force of the rapids contrasted with the surrounding hills, staggered with the usual harmony of the terraces. An old woman was walking along the river watching the young people who were entering the water at that moment.. Some were just kids., carrying a huge banner. They were fishing in a place where the current can carry away your future in an instant..
We approach to record them. Perhaps stimulated by the courage of those teenagers, I ventured to enter the river, stuck to the shore, watching the rapids. The kids encouraged me to try my luck at fishing but my lack of skill only made me value the bravery of those people even more..
Such was his dignity in front of the camera that his silences seemed more eloquent to me..
Later, still soaked, I met an old man who, according to what they told us,, He had fought against the French and today he was planting vegetables in a garden in a small town that no one visits.. When we ask for an interview, he adjusted an old jacket with parsimony, in front of a broken mirror. He stretched as much as he could as soon as we recorded him and barely spoke about his life, of their wars and their land, but such was his dignity in front of the camera that his silences seemed more eloquent to me..
Vietnam begins to be counted in those towns, with people who keep quiet about their past, with the young people who fish in wild rivers, with the mountains where rice grows without postcards. Sapa is just the cover of a world that has amazing pages, that hides extraordinary lives in landscapes that seem decorated. We barely glimpsed that reality but we understood that in every house in every town in the mountains of northern Vietnam there is a story that is worth it..
