Decided to have a relaxing morning and not take the 09:00 to Sapa (partially also to avoid the obnoxious drunk Australian from two nights ago), so hired a later private car to spend a few hours in town before our bus to Lao Cai and the train station.
Before we left, we decided that, for form’s sake, we really had to dive into the mob of eager Red Dao women trying to aggressively sell trinkets and fabrics out front of the lodge. So, the moment we’d loaded our bags into the car, we faced them, and said, “ok, now I buy from you” before plunging into the chaos.
No matter what we picked up to look at from the dozens of outstretched hands (“YOU BUY FROM ME YOU BUY FROM ME YOU FRIEND”, I cannot begin to describe the chaos), ten more hands would immediately vanish into backpacks and shoulder bags, re-emerging with ten more variations on exactly the same item. We bought a cap for a friend’s baby, ten more baby caps would come out. Scarves, placemats, etc.
A short note — an Australian gentleman and his Peruvian anthropologist wife I’d met at the lodge described how they had gone about dealing with the Red Dao (tremendously cool name, I think); they’d just started walking energetically toward their village, and as one after another of their followers dropped back, they were finally left with one or two of the more hard-core, English speaking ones. With these robust ladies (they see you coming, they start running toward you, backpacks full of souvenirs and all) they’d started to talk and bargain, and talk some more, until they got an invitation to their homes and actually ended up buying a full authentic outfit.
Bargaining feels a bit odd, because on the one hand, I really don’t feel like paying the asking price up front — that kind of implies that I’m made of money and could set a bad precedent for others, plus I don’t like the feeling that I’m being taken for a ride. However, the stuff you buy here is so cheap, and a few bucks either way doesn’t make much of a difference, that you really have to walk a thin line. Bargain for form’s sake, but don’t be obnoxious about it. And always keep smiling. It’s amazing how much far that seems to get you here.
Funny enough, Karin tried to buy some of the amazing silver ear rings that a few of the older women wore, not settling for the cheaply made imitations they offered alongside the otherwise very beautiful handmade scarves and cloths (apparently the dyes aren’t properly set, so don’t wear them with anything light, as attested by skin discolorations of many people we saw in nearby Sapa), but that was not happening — no way they were selling these. I think those are the holiest of heirlooms or something.
Sapa was an interesting place, really resembling Aguas Calientes in Peru for pure wild West disorder. We bought a few nifty souvenirs, including a thoroughly intimidating H’mong hatchet from a tiny woman (who turned out to be heavily pregnant, rather than the 12 or 13 I’d initially guessed), and some beautiful wood carvings that should have a nice place in our living room.
The H’mong children are particularly persistent in their selling, following you for ages with “you buy from me you buy from me ok” ringing in your ears wherever you go. A polite no, with a wave of the hand and a smile usually sends them off, but the moment you give them even the slightest opening, you’ve had it. I now own two probably Chinese-made embroidered purses (whatever, they’re pretty, they’ll make nice gifts), and in return the kids who’d been following us, to the point of waiting for us outside the first restaurant we made the mistake of trying to have lunch in (it was revolting to the point that we had to just settle up and walk out — not something I’ve done often, but taking a quick swipe of the tabletop and having your finger come away black was a bit too much. Plus, I don’t think spicy papaya salad is made with tomato ketchup.) In return, the kids ended up with a lesson in aggressive bargaining. And I made them promise to work hard in school. Hah.
A few of the urchins followed us to the travel office, where we were to catch our bus to Lao Cai. Instead of buying from them, I grabbed some waste paper from the office staff, and Karin and I regaled the growing crowd of little girls for a while with paper airplanes, little cutout accordion people, and whatever primitive bits of origami we could think of. Particular hits were the little paper dragons we made for them, which we named after the girls we gave them to.They stopped even trying to sell to us, aside from some perfunctory requests to buy more purses (purely for form’s sake, I suppose), and even came running after us when our car was about to leave to give us some woven bracelets as thanks, waving their dragons and shouting “remember Mu the dragon ok?”
Karin suspected that between school (there seem to be fairly well-developed and equipped schools in all the villages and towns here, so I assume they have the chance to go) and working as souvenir sellers, they probably don’t have much opportunity to be kids, so seeing them light up when we gave them silly paper toys was a great experience. Note to anyone visiting these parts: bring lots of small things, pens, paper, whatever, to give as kids, and a good sense of humor (some magic tricks help too.) The kids love it.
Topas Ecolodge
Sa Pa, VN
www.topasecolodge.com
