I shared my cabin with two lovely blonde english midwives and as we had a spare bed whichever of the train staff had a sleep break. I took one of the top bunks (I was supposed to be on the bottom) so it be easier for the sleeping staff to find a bed. However the staff couldn;t figure this conundrum out, so whenever they entered our cabin they were faced with an interesting situation. An empty bed that was supposed to hold a passenger (one Phillip Gatt),
One Phillip Gatt
and another taken bed that was supposed to be empty. Needless to say I was woken up constantly and jabbered at in Vietnamese. There was lots of pointing and waving of the arms before I could convince them I was me.
From the train station to Sapa it was a 1 hour bus ride, but we got to witness the rising of the sun - its morning rays gently urging the blanketing shadow of night to roll back and reveal the lush green valleys, whilst awakening the surrounding moutains to a new day. 
The misty mountains no longer sleep
At my hotel I had time for breakfast before being assigned a tour group. I think it was about here that something went wrong. My name didn't seem to exist for any tour group and as you'll find out in the following tale of exploration and discovery (Both here and Halon Bay) I get passed from tour group to tour group like the new baby at a family reunion - no one tells me or asks me in advance, they just do whatever makes them comfortable.
The first days trek was only 6 kms - to a nearby village. We were followed by a gaggle of women from the Black H'Mong tribe. They befriend you and talk limited english all the while soaping you up for when they can guilt trip you into buying their handmade items.
Native Black H'Mong tribe women with a non native Danish tourist
My group was quite awesome. There was a Danish man with his parents and Canadian wife and two super happy-go-lucky Spanish men my own age, Matteo and Ivan. In the first village we saw a typical traditional house. 
"Hey, what's up?" " Not much, just Millin." - Here I am grinding corn old style
Made from wood, it consisted of two rooms and a large covered area out the front. The two rooms were used for cooking, eating, and sleeping. It had one small window. The picturesque mouontian village was quite a sight. It had been built on a slope so it had a kind of layered effect. Lots of bamboo pipes delivered water, which was used for various manual labour jobs. 
I loved this water pipelines. They would run to large wooden hammers that would rise and fall powered by the water. The hammers would crush anything the villagers needed crushed!
Little kids ran around naked playing in the mini aqueducts and dogs, chickens and pigs constantly hunted for food. We stopped for lunch at cafe right next to a beautiful waterfall. 
A Cafe. It sells anything you could desire: soft drink, beer, bamboo, roots and meat popsicles
I bought some super sweet alcohol (bit like a fruit liquer) and ate some food that was cooked right in front of you (skewered meat and some root vegetable). 
ANU needs a water feature like this
We returned to Sapa and Matteo, Ivan and I saw some sights, drank some beer and practised our vietnamese (no one understands our 'how are you'). 
Matt and Ivan being Spanish overlooking Sapa (they taught me naughty spanish words).
Unfortunately my Camera battery died, this afternoon. I spend the rest of the trip shoving my SD card into other people's camera's and taking photos.
Day two trekking started the same. The Black H'Mong women followed us, each lady latching on to the same tourist as the day before (they're clever ones), vicsoulsy defending their territory and becoming quite upset if another peddler tries to but into the 'conversation'. I had two by the end of this leg of the trek. They taught me words from their dialect, gave me a horse and a loveheart made from grass and leaves (the heart was awesome, if I could learn how to make one of these I would never experience a lonely night again - and I did try), and taught me to make sounds from grass (Hilarious!).
Local hawkers. They followed us for three days.
At the end of the journey I bought a tiny bag on a string (purse perhaps) from one of the followers. In it I stored my credit card and some cash, this was hung around my neck for safe keeping - one of my many hiding places for cash (I used four). Much to the dismay - angry dismay I might add - I didn't buy anything from the other follower.
Here I changed tour groups for the first time, joining a group with a Spanish couple, an Isreali couple, and an Italian couple. Once again I found the Spanish, Victor and Gloria, the most fun to be with, but it was a little lonely in that everyone else was in a couple. The new tour guide was a cute vietnamese girl with a great sense of humour.
Me and my guide.
She blushed evertime we pressed her about her boyfriend. We marched through valleys to another village where we were to 'homestay', which is just a glorified term for village hotel. 
The view from the homestay. I sat here and drank lots of tiger beer.
This village had at least ten homestay houses and as many pubs. One pub even had a concrete pool table. I drank lots of Tiger beer, much to the amusement of the Israeli's, Omer and Nofar. We slept under mossie nets on mattresses in the attic after a huge dinner and countless card games - a version of shithead I haven't seen since high school. 
More goats! Can you believe it? These goats are crossing a bridge.
Our last day took us past the rice fields, where Omer helped the locals, however even the older females were more effective at beating the rice from the stalks than the tourist. Here I ran into the english midwives again and learnt som hebrew ('bekoshi mozi [orez]' - not enough [rice]). This we yelled out to Omer as he desperatly beat the rice against a wooden board, while next to him the slow measured tempo of the natives were much more effective. 
Men working hard to get some rice in a fashion only Jimmy Barnes could truly appreciate.
Next we trekked through bamboo forests and ate lunch at a gurgling river. Lunch is funny because the guide has to cook for you. It is tasty though.
Before I knew it I was on a bus been sent back to the train station to once again board the overnight train. I jumped on my carriage wandered to the end and wouldn't you know it, there were the midwives, jumping up and down gleefully pointing at me. My excitement levels rose at the prospect of joining them again, and wouldn't you know it...I got stuck right next door. At first I was a wee bit worried, as I was with two vietnamese, which usually means cigarettes, silence and lights out at 8:00pm. However at the last minute we was joined by a Kiwi girl. We reminisced over life back home, the great times we'd had away and the good times to come...
Until next time Sapa, until next time.
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