Sapa in the Clouds

Some years ago I was sitting in a sushi restaurant in Denver Colorado with a Lonely Planet guidebook on Vietnam.  It turned out the sushi chef was Vietnamese and was very interested in my future plans to visit his country.  I asked him what  is the one place that I should not miss if I was to go to Vietnam.  Without hesitating or missing a beat he said “Sapa”.  “Luscious green mountains, cool mountain air, and indigenous hill tribes make the area paradise”, he said.  As it turns out he was from a Black Hmong village that was only a few kilometers outside of Sapa.   They along with several other local hill people can be seen heading into the market in Sapa to sell and heckle the tourists out of their dong.    

I have long since forgotten his name but the pieces of his story have stuck with me over the years.  He managed to learn some English on his trips into town and built on that knowledge.  Speaking English is a powerful tool in rural Vietnam.  He then got a hotel job and his English improved a little more.  The story goes on and on but through the help of family friends and others he managed to end up in Denver Colorado.  Not that different from his home I suppose at least on the landscape side.  It sounded so difficult just to come to the US I’m not sure we would have that much resolve.  Now he is living the dream as he said smiling.  He said he didn’t get home much these days.  I could see that look in his eyes that he really didn’t want to go.  It was more a look of fear.  You know, that feeling that if you do go back you will be trapped by life and perhaps not get out again?  

Well, It took a few years but here I am sitting on a small balcony sipping a drink and looking out over the beautiful green panorama of Sapa.  Just like he said.  It occurred to me that perhaps his mother or father was in the market this morning.  Carrying their wares into town and packing them up when the day was over and walking into the jungle.  I imagine they would talk about their son who was making it big in America to the other hawkers on the street.  Parents seem to do that sort of thing.  I wish I could have gone up to them and told them their son is the one that got me here.  I would also tell them he makes one hell of a dragon roll.