The reason to visit Bac Ha was to see the weekly market, to which members of various hill tribes come to shop, sell and socialize. Bac Ha is very near the Chinese border, though these people seem to share little of the dourness we associate with their neighbours.
Each minority group has a distinctive dress; the women of the Flower H’Mong, for example, wear brilliant outfits, of narrow multicoloured hand-stitched bands sewn into a collar/shawl, apron and leggings, with a bright hat, sequins all a-glitter, bows, beads and bangles a-plenty. They sell appliquéd or embroidered hangings, bags, dolls, silver jewellery, hats – all for the tourists who flock here each week, and to each other plastic sandals, sugar cane to suck or gnaw, farm implements – one can glimpse the life of the tribe.
The men lead animals to market, and haggle over the best water buffalo or pony. They gather under the bright blue tarpaulins to buy hunks of bloody meat or steaming entrails, or squat with chopsticks over innumerable small bowls of … ?
It was a riot of colour and sound and well worth the trip to Bac Ha. We spend the rest of our time here gazing at the market scene below our window-wall, or at the high, pointed mountains just emerging from the fog and reflected in the green river. At 2 p.m. the sea of blue tarps disappears, the people leave on scooters or pony-pulled carts or in the ever-present clutch of tour buses. Peace reigns until next Sunday.
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| View from our Hotel Room the day before the market. The animal market area is the muddy area below beside the river |
Commie Lobby
Beautiful; markets are one of our favourite places to spend the time; I wonder if some of these ladies were to come to Europe, would they enjoy watching us people getting in and out and around the CONAD and ESSELUNGA ?
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