In November, I threw out the idea to friends about traveling west of Hanoi for a five night adventure hopping between different homestays in local villages around Hoa Binh Lake. The idea is centered around community based tourism, which provides a way for travelers to pay the local people for services and be assured the experience is more authentic than booking with a company.
For the first two nights, the six of us stayed in Hanoi, a city we have all been to a few times before. We stopped for some egg coffee, the trademark coffee of the north. We mostly meandered around the streets and ate, but a new experience for all was visiting the inside of Ho Chi Minh’s Mausoleum. Here, Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam’s pride and joy of the 20th century, lays perfectly preserved for people to pay their respects. About eight military men dressed in pristine white garb hold bayonets at the end of their guns and stand perfectly still while we slowly walked around his body. It was a sight I’ve yet to see in my life.
On Monday, a minibus picked us up and drove us about two hours west of Hanoi to our first local village of Ke. With a cultural dance from the villagers scheduled at night, we had most of the day to explore and relax. After a quick walk and some lunch, we ventured into the forest behind the homestay to play with a large congregation of ducks and scout to find the most interesting bugs. In the evening before dinner, some local boys brought their football over to the homestay. I played some goalie after a bit of convincing from the kids to get us involved. After dinner, eleven women from the village slowly rolled in dressed in their traditional clothing. They performed many dances for us and even got us involved towards the end.
In the morning, we began our first and longest hike from Ke to Sung Village. In January, I tore my ACL and Meniscus playing football (soccer). It was questionable whether I would take part in the hikes, but the doctor said I couldn’t do any more damage. With the surgery just the week after the trip, I had nothing to lose. We hiked along the narrow roads and through the jungle for 12km.
After the hike and some lunch, we were escorted to the local brocade shop, where women both dye and design the clothing for the village. The work is tedious. The women are older and they take care of the little children as the younger generation does the more labor intensive jobs away from the home. The men are nowhere to be seen. At the brocade shop, we all tried on the local dress. A few hours later, we headed back into the village from the homestay to soak our feet in herbal baths.
The sleeping arrangements in each place had a few staples. Bug nets hung above each bed, however, they were rarely used due to the fact that the temperature was quite cold. Thick blankets lay on top of a firm but thin mattress. In most homestays, the beds lay on the floor. The bathrooms and showers were very clean and had toilet paper. The shower was even hot; however, you had to wait between each one to let the hot water heater perform it’s magic. Spiders painted the walls with their webs and roosters competed during all hours of the day and night to assert their dominance.
The next morning in Sung Village, we packed up and took the easiest 6km trek to Da Bia. At the end, we took a steep walk down to the basin of the lake and took a boat across. We would stay in this homestay for two nights, the only one directly overlooking the lake. They had phin coffee, which is a small contraption that lets the coffee slowly drip into the cup. Over the next two days, we had another herbal bath and took part in a cooking class. Really, it was more of a wrapping class as they prepared most of the food prior. We wrapped up some spring rolls and then made sticky rice wrapped in banana leaves just cut down from some nearby trees. We also spent an evening kayaking in the lake.
Much of our days were spent relaxing in the homestay or walking the streets. The local people are curious and friendly, almost as curious as we were. Everybody says hello and some of the children even try to come out and play. At one point, I was leading a marching parade of six or seven wee chaps as we came down the road. Even without language, we find other ways to communicate and interact. Even the dogs were abnormally friendly, with one following us for nearly thirty minutes.
Near the end of one of our walks one afternoon, we ducked into a shop for some snacks. Within a minute, I was drinking tea with the local men. About seven teas and ten minutes later, we walked back to the homestay.
After our relaxing and engaging time in Da Bia Village, we began our 9km trek to our final stop: Mo Hem. Much of the hike was spent walking through the jungle on a path that was hardly visible. Our two guides had machetes, hacking away at the branches and leaves that have found themselves growing in the way of the rarely used path due to the decrease of tourism. We had to stop a few times and realign. In the end, we made it to the boat that would bring us to Mo Hem.
After a short walk and lunch, it was time to make some shrimp traps using shredded bamboo. The traps have two sets of spikes, with bamboo woven tightly around. A few smaller fish are placed inside as bait and the traps are dropped, tied to a line, to sit at the bottom of the lake. After making the traps, we went on a small boat and collect the days’ catch from the traps already set. We had to be careful to get the shrimp out of the trap without spilling all the bait into the large net. I had my turn with about five traps until a sneaky shrimp jumped out of my hand back into the water. The women laughed, which was my cue to pass along the job to the next.
To round out the experience, we visited the local fish farm. We walked across the metal beams to watch as the local women worked the ropes. They brought one of the nets to the surface and caught dozens of their small fish they’ve had growing in the farm.
We played with two little girls in the later afternoon in the homestay who began very shy, but slowly warmed up to us. When playing hide and go seek, I was counting in Vietnamese. I had forgotten the number for six, so I stopped counting for a few seconds. All of a sudden, one of the girls shouts out “Sau” from her hiding place, making that the first word she said to us. We all found it quite humorous
In the evening, after dinner, many from the village joined our campfire down by the lake. Children ranging from babies to early secondary students joined us to take part in the celebration. We began communicating to the oldest child who was holding her mother’s smartphone. We translated back and forth asking all sorts of questions. Here is what we learned.
Zu goes to school 8km up the road from Monday-Saturday. She only goes for half the day. Half the students go in the morning, while the others go in the afternoon. She takes many different subjects, all taught by different teachers. This is a reason why many villages will share one secondary school. When Zu grows up, she wants to do what’s best to serve the homeland. Those are her words, but we assume that this mentality is taught in school. If Zu could visit any country in the world, it would be a country that would let her experience a culture similar to ours from the West. Zu hangs out in the village or does her homework in her spare time. She goes to bed at 9pm each night. Zu was joined by two boys, although they were not her brothers. Zu has a sister in the 10th grade, but she was not present. The two boys were 12 and 9. The 12 year old dreams of being a cruise ship captain, while the 9 year old would like to also do what is best to serve the homeland. Each family in her village has an average of 3 or 4 people, with about 30 to 40 houses. The village is centered around fishing. Even the children are strong fishermen. A very little boy no older than 3 ran into the darkness. A few minutes later, he returned holding a fish. He put it on a stick and cooked it over the fire, still fluttering it’s tail. Zu and her village have never had marshmallows, which we brought along with us particularly for this night. We shared our knowledge of cooking marshmallows with every child and adult who had joined us. Zu called the roasting of marshmallows “fishing.” The kids roasted them under our supervision while we each cooked one for the adults. Once the marshmallows were finished, the two older boys went off into the darkness. Some time later, they returned with a bucket of small fish. They asked if they could share their fish with us, and we obliged. So they cooked the small fish over the fire, their version of cooking marshmallows. During all this, we enjoyed sweet potato and cassava the locals cooked in the fire. We also enjoyed one last night of rice wine. The night was an experience for all involved.
The trip has inspired me to find more community based tourism projects in the region once travel restrictions are lifted. Connecting with the locals in the most authentic way as possible is only some of the reason. The project makes it clear how our money is spent and we know that we are supporting those who most deserve the money from tourism. Often, the poorer locals are left out from the benefits of tourism. Instead, their land can be infiltrated by travelers where they see either no benefit or even harm to their land, culture, and way of life. This is a sustainable way for communities to grow and flourish.