Photography lessons at the Sunday market
Trip Start
Sep 17, 2007
1
128
272
Trip End
Oct 08, 2008
Sapa,
Vietnam
Sunday, March 9, 2008
The cloudy foggy dampness from yesterday morphed into an unending drizzle that promised wetness for the whole day. We didn't absolutely confirm where the tour van to Bac Ha would pick us up, but I was pretty sure it was at the hotel. Just to make sure I walked up the hill to the travel agency. In the wet. There was no one there. Finally the bus picked us up at 8, running just half and hour behind. Other than the driver being typical of all the drivers I've encountered and not felt safe with, the drive to Lao Cai was uneventful. After a short stop at Lao Cai we were informed by our "guide" (this being not actually a guide but a person who will speak some variety of English to you in the car) that the Bac Ha market was inaccessible due to a landslide in the road that in turn caused a massive traffic jam. Bummer.
Although Travis and I have had a pretty smooth run, there are always ups and downs and it almost always happens that nothing happens the way you expect it to
luxury for $6 a night
. Even if someone told you exactly what to expect. Like a travel agent. Also, most people with the capacity to reason understand that stuff happens. But not everyone. In our case there were four selfish...persons...who adamantly refused to go to the new market, blamed the guide for not telling them sooner, and demanded their money back. So after the guide trying to say that the market was "same same" and our persons arguing incessantly and unreasonably ("It's NOT okay." "It's NOT the same."), the guide capitulated to the somewhat rude demands to put these people back on a bus to Sapa. Here's the thing: in Asian travel speak, "same same" does not mean SAME. It means, "you're getting what you wanted to get, just in a slightly different way." I may excuse our fellow travellers for not understanding this as English was not their first language, but it's not much of an excuse. In this case, "same same" meant "you're going to a big Sunday market, which is frequented by the same minority tribes as Bac Ha market." And honestly, we were obviously not going to market in the sense that one usually does. We were going to market to ogle the minority tribes in their traditional dress and doing their traditional market shopping and eating. And if you really wanted a big market you should have gone to western China. It has one of the world's biggest markets. So really our people were just being spoiled brats. Those of you who are not spoiled brats need not have heard this, but brats please listen. Your fussing and pouting and unreasonable demands and extended argument made sure that the rest of us are a) stuck in the middle of an uncomfortable situation and b) missing out on our fun because you had to have a hissy fit. So if you're going to have your way, just get out of the van. Don't make it a half hour affair. Oh, and don't expect that you deserve your money back because you voluntarily left a tour that was changed due to circumstances outside the control of the company
scenery around Sapa
. In your own country you wouldn't get your money back for that; don't expect that this country's different. So, our very responsible and abused guide made sure that his four wayward charges were safely tucked on a bus back to Sapa and the rest of us were on our way. I think everyone on the bus made a concerted effort to be friendly and upbeat. We all sympathized with our guide and we all wanted to put the mess we'd just seen behind us. One of the crew, when the guide returned, shouted, "Take us to a market! Any market!" We all laughed and were on our way.
We stopped on a rather average-looking street and were pointed in the direction of the market. I thought it was going to be a short walk, but we pretty much went right into it, and it was definitely large enough for two hours' exploration, especially if you got lunch at one of the food stalls. The Canadians we constantly bumped into ate some mystery meat and weren't too sure about that experience. Travis and I stuck with our Ritz crackers.
All of the tour groups destined for Bac Ha market were rerouted to this one, so everywhere we turned there was a foreigner with a camera
terraces
. We were all trying to get the same thing: a portrait of the Flower H'mong (H'mong, for those of you not in the know, is pronounced sort of like "mung"). Of course, it's extremely bad manners to take a picture without asking permission, so most people were taking photos of backs and sides and from a great distance. Even this I feel a little guilty doing. I asked a couple young women if I could take a picture (by pointing and gesturing, of course), but was turned down. It wasn't looking good for us. For your information, about 86% of the Vietnamese population is ethnically Viet, the rest are minorities. The most obvious minorities are usually the ones that life in the northern hills because they have maintained most traditional dress and customs. In Sapa we saw many Dzao, notable for shaving the front of their head and winding the long hair in the back into a red sort of turban-kerchief. Also in Sapa were Black H'mong, who have cylindrical hats and use massive amounts of indigo dye, so they have dyed hands as well. At the market there were mostly Flower H'mong, who have super fun clothing in loads of really bright colors. There were also Dzao (I think) with a different kind of headdress, and a smattering of White H'mong. There are 5 different categories/colors of H'mong, but there are many more tribes, and each one is a little different.
So we walked around the market, full of the usual goods and also boasting a large amount of Flower H'mong clothing for sale
please buy from me
. I was quite delighted when I found this, but didn't buy any. Along the way I waved at people, trying to be as friendly as possible and hoping that someone would have the courage to let me take a picture. I waved at two little girls who were very curious about the foreigner. They walked past. I was standing in the same place when they came back and smiled at me shyly. I asked them if they wanted me to take a picture of them. "No," they shook their heads. "Okay." I stared at them a little more, but they didn't seem to have any intention of moving, so I said I had to find my husband and walked away. We wandered. The little girls reappeared, this time with another girl who turned out to be gutsy. They stopped and smiled and said hello and their names, and that was about as far as the conversation could possibly go, so we smiled at each other some more. I offered to take a picture of them again. They were really cute kids, even if they were in Western clothes. They weren't too sure about it. So I took a picture of Travis making a face and showed it to them and offered to let them take a picture. The littlest one was too shy, and she shortly disappeared, but the first girl I met hesitantly took the camera and snapped a photo. All were delighted by the outcome. Then it was Gutsy's turn. She took the camera and ran with it. Almost literally. Honestly, it was just about perfect. Gutsy learned how to use the camera quickly and had no problem bossing everyone around so she could take pictures of them. After a few tries we were getting some great voluntary portraits. Also, once one of their own was doing the photography, people got intensely curious about the camera and the photos and they all giggled when we showed them their pictures. So our little friend was still ordering people about and every now and then someone would say (in another language, of course) "Take a picture of me!" or "Take a picture of them!" Our little photographer was having people pose, at one point making a diamond like you see in so many family portraits, and at another time moving an umbrella held by two young girls for optimum cuteness
waiting to pounce on tourists
. At this point I think our quieter little friend would have liked a chance to take more pictures, but Gutsy wasn't about to let go of the camera (even for me), so Quiet started pointing out creative shots. And so we had the artistic folds of fabric, peppers, banana flowers, buttons, and the rafters. She also indulged her romantic fantasies by making Travis kiss me on the cheek and having us embrace, albeit in a slightly awkward position. Then she took a final photo and walked away. Just like that. And of course our good fortune and enormous fun helped out a bunch of other tourists to get photos themselves. Even if we weren't taking pictures of them, the crowd around the Gutsy and Quiet had loosened up and was now volunteering to have pictures taken by other tourists and with other tourists. Everyone was laughing and posing and having fun. It was excellent.
After Gutsy and Quiet left we weren't quite sure what to do with ourselves. We wandered some more and stopped by a stand of chili peppers, only to discover Quiet sitting behind them and selling them. I had been taking some photos, and decided to let her have a couple photos for herself, since Gutsy wasn't much for sharing. She had some fun, and then Gutsy reappeared and we were off again. I ended up following her (and the camera), leaving Travis to wonder where exactly I had gone. She didn't have her old crowd, so there weren't as many volunteers for pictures, but that didn't deter her. At one point she got right up in the face of a little old lady and took a photo with flash. I felt really bad for the old lady and hoped she wasn't angry or blinded. She pretty much ignored us. Then Travis found me and it was time to go. Gutsy took one last photo, gave the camera back, and melted back into the market's crowds.
So the day began a little less than ideally, but we had the good fortune to meet some curious children, who led us all on a grand photo adventure. Laughter is the best medicine for a gloomy day, and that is FO SHO (for sure).
Erin
