Vietnam - Mai Chau

Leaving Pù Luông, we headed up the track to the main road. The steep route wound its way through the paddies of rice. Workers were already busy in the fields and gaggles of tourists were out and about - wandering along the lane. Perfectly attired for vacationing in flowing linen, all airy and cool. Appearing in complete contrast to ourselves, as we heaved our bikes past them, sweating profusely, breathing heavily and it was not yet 9:00am.
Our fingers were crossed that the road up and over the hills would not be as steep, and that we could stay seated on our bikes, rather than push them.
Amanda and I were both glad to be back on the bike and we were pretty upbeat and both rested. I felt more like my ‘normal’ self after a few days to recuperate, managing to shake off the viral sickness I had picked up several days earlier.
The landscape was dramatic. We looked out upon steep sided fields, covered in vivid green rice terraces, a veritable magazine cover image taken for National Geographic. No gradient seemed too extreme for rice planting and every small section, however oddly shaped was used, and tessellated to accommodate the available space. All irrigated by a clever system of channels and pipes funnelling water, which cascaded down the hillsides, taking it to where it was needed.
These vistas manifested into the realised version of my imagined Vietnam. One soundtracked by Creedance Clearwater Revival, Jimi Hendrix and The Rolling Stones. The accompanying score for a landscape portrayed in films I had seen. It was now in front of me and it was very beautiful.

The road and hillsides were populated with a few resort home stays, a few houses, and some small eateries. After an hours climbing or so, we called at a cafe perched above the terraced hillside overlooking the valley below, stopping for a drink and the benefit of shade. Today’s ride wasn’t long and so far the roads gradual rise allowed us a gentle pace - dictating a slow and steady cadence and it meant we had the luxury of being able to look around.
A haze obscured the distant hills but the closer ones were visible and dense with forest, subtropical in appearance.
The variety of butterfly species was astounding. So many! They fluttered around and landed on the road to bask in the suns warmth, taking in salt or moisture. Opening their wings flat caused much excitement to Amanda. She tried to capture them on camera and they teased her by moving on before their image was caught in digital form! I watched a group of them cavorting, like blossom caught in a vortex of wind. A frenzy of colour, spiralling madly.

We rounded the last curve at what seemed to be the high point, affording views of the valley below - the one we would descend into.
The houses looked small as we were still pretty high up. The red earth of the dirt roads was an accent against the green, like a rust coloured ribbon laid over the swathe of dark green forest.
We freewheeled downward slowly, and passed through small hamlets of houses surrounded by fields of rice and crops, often situated beside pools of water that contained ducks or fish - the inhabitants doorstep larder. Accompanied by the noise of fowl and smell of cattle, it was a very pastoral scene and felt like the place had been frozen in an older time.
The tarmac ended and the orange sandy ‘road’ was rutted and bumpy. Relieved that the weather had been dry, our path was compacted and not a mushy, claggy soup, which would have been challenging to ride over. The short off road section brought us back into the highway. We entered the ‘dead zone’ part of the day. Nothing looked open apart from the odd store. With little chance to eat we pressed on, giving a miss to the one restaurant we stopped at, as it had dog on the menu.
Leaving the main road, we crossed the valley, a flat expanse, carpeted green with rice fields. The place hemmed in by the steep side hills, which bordered the valley on all sides. The small track weaved between hills and the hidden route through unfolded before us. The sound of cicadas became louder as traffic noise died away. The heat bounced off the hard, dry concrete and we were relived for the bits of shade provided by the small clumps of large leaves trees, draped in vines, or with roots that wanted to explore beyond their host tree. Branching out somewhat 😃

We arrived at our Homestay which was part hostel, part restaurant and located outside the main town.
We received a friendly welcome by the family. The place felt calm and they kindly served us some food despite us arriving on the cusp of the end of lunchtime. We aimed not to do much over the next couple of days, other than some forward planning and throw in a little exploration of the area.
The following day we cycled into the town on what became a familiar route. Along side the rice paddies, past the cemetery and through the small alleyways to the main high street, which was a very busy and active place. It ran the length of the town and was lined with shops and stalls. Live animals, fruit, vegetables and cooked items were all on display. We discovered a small cafe that served a tasty bánh mi and also homemade pizza. We visited it more than once!
It was my birthday and we mentioned to the owner of the shop that we would need to sample one of her homemade cakes, which we did. The lovely kind lady then ran into the back as we finished our cake and returned with the gift of a small chocolate cake with a candle in it to celebrate my birthday! I was quite touched by her gesture.
Cycling back to the Homestay later that evening after dark, we spotted people ‘creeping’ about in the fields wearing large powerful head torches. Searching for something we thought? Snails maybe? The Golden Apple snail is considered a pest here and to prevent them from eating the rice shoots, the Vietnamese harvest them, along with other nocturnal wildlife that decides to ventures out after dark- frogs, eels and crabs. Nothing goes to waste, as the Vietnamese seem to eat pretty much anything.
The following day we took a ride out around the local villages along the valley, which are home to the Thai White people - a minority group but a large ethnic one in this part of Vietnam and known for their wooden stilt houses. The majority of the population in these villages are the Thai. There were numerous villages, each located in its own separate area, and their inhabitants living and working within these communities.
Weaving is a tradition and there were many craftspeople selling woven products, which were displayed outside the houses in a colourful gallery of this local heritage industry. Several of the houses were also a workshop. Ladies sat at looms and worked feverishly, running the shuttle
back and forth between the thin lines of coloured twine in rapid motion.
The traditional houses balanced on stilts were slightly ramshackle looking. They were built with only a few shuttered windows, without glass, and when opened would allow a breeze through. The houses appeared dark inside, a common theme in SE Asia where light seems to be less important than other practicalities perhaps, and where the climate allows much of family life to be managed outdoors. The spaces underneath the houses were utilised for many things - outdoor eating, storage, motorcycle parking, drying washing, an animal pen, and a place of business.
Before returning to our digs, we stopped in one hamlet to grab some freshly squeezed sugar cane juice. A ‘mangle’ machine squeezes the sugar cane to a long pulp extracting the green sweet juice. Mixed with ice. Strangely refreshing, and rocket fuel for us cyclists!
One last evening in Mai Chau. We went into town one last time. One last pizza and then a beer back at the homestay. Traditional music drifted over from the Homestay next door. We have enjoyed our time here and feel that we have tapped into another facet of this country and one of contradictions.
Tomorrow we leave. Our route involves winding along to the end of the valley and then a steady ascent to cross a range of hills. Heading off to bed we hoped that our legs would be ready for the mornings climb!Read more