Indigo Fingers, Step Terraces, Sapa

I'm high in the mountains of Northern Vietnam where tribal women wrap flax string around their indigo fingers and create beauty in brightly colored and ornate bags, quilts, pillowcases, clothes. They walk the mountains, these beautiful women with clean faces, dirty hands, cracked feet. Some speak, eager for a sale, desperate, some smile and practice their English, young and bright, asking me where I'm from, if I have a boyfriend, how many brothers and sisters, how old am I? Silver hoops weigh down their ears, red polka dots on their foreheads-evidence of a form of acupuncture. Medicinal herbs, opium, rice and handicrafts are their trade, animism their religion. They walk to the market in Sapa every day. I see a dog's head in the market- the fear of death can be read in its clenched teeth.

Sarah and I walked 12 miles south of our basetown of Sapa between two villages of H'Mong people. A 7-year-old girl named Yen of the Black H'Mong tribe showed us a book about her people. She explained how they make rice wine, irrigate the step terraces that stretch up and down their mountains. These ethnic minorities dotted throughout the northern highlands are caught somewhere between the medieval and modern world, speaking their own langauges, semi-nomadic, befuddled by the concept of nationhood and patriotism.

Its cold here. I like the smell of fire, chestnuts on the streets, roasting corn. Last night Sarah and I were drawn to a fireplace at Nature Bar and Grill. We met other travelers also lured by the heat. The owner sat with us, a native of Sapa, who ranted about the three restraunts that popped up just this week, all imitating his menu and restraunt lay-out. One traveler was from Amsterdam. Another couple was American. We've only met two or three people from America in the past several weeks. Travel magic-they lived in Carrboro. Exhausted from trekking all day and delighted to be in the company of people from my favorite town, I celebrated with a splurge of 3 dollars on dinner--a plate of venison sauteed with lemon grass and onions.

Tomorrow Sarah and I are taking a local bus to Dien Bien Phu, a border town with Laos. The border here was recently opened-we've heard mixed things about the length of the ride, the negotiations to cross. We're hoping the entire trip will only take a few days, perhaps 15 hours on a cramped bus and winding mountain roads. I'm eager to get to Laos, its calm here, less tourists, less people, no cities, small villages, more time.