Mù Cang Chai is one of those rare, beautiful places with generally fewer tourists, and closer to none during low season. Being a very small town tucked in the mountains and 5 hours away by bus from Sapa, a long, meandering journey when compared to other, better connected, itineraries (namely Sapa – Hanoi, which takes the same time for approximately double the distance), most travellers seem to skip this hidden gem, especially if they only have a few weeks to squeeze in the whole of Vietnam.

Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure whether I should go such great distances to see more rice fields… But I was too curious about a homestay I had found, which promised to give the few guests it could accommodate a truly genuine, indigenous experience.

I was met with warm hospitality by a family belonging to the Hmong ethnic group. Their home was humble and tiny for a family of 6. Each morning and evening a fire was made to heat a big pot, blackened overtime by the flames, to avoid the reliance on bottled water. And before each meal, all the ingredients were plucked straight out of the garden!

I was awake before dawn by roosters and chickens, and would fall asleep to cicadas, which produce a loud rhythmic sound disproportional to the size of their little bodies. The short nights of sleep were soothed by the view from the room made of bamboo canes, overlooking circular rice fields. I started my days contemplating their abundantly watered layers, reflecting the clouds passing by or the luminous sun. Sometimes I even spotted a buffalo, seemingly too heavy and round to ever fit the narrow pools and assist the locals planting rice.

On my last afternoon I filled myself with courage and approached a family in the fields, gesticulating I would like to help them out. They exchanged smiles and a few unintelligible words but didn’t hesitate and passed me a handful of sprouts. It took me a while to get used to the feeling of mud almost up to my knees, and walking in such a mouldable, soft surface. I was slow and less agile than the women by my side, naturally, but I think I did help a bit!

And before I departed, the family’s matriarch, a shaman, performed a ritual so I would remain safe & sound while backpacking. Ironically, I got food poisoning twice the week that followed, but I would later interpret this as a necessary hiccup, part of the process of strengthening my immunity for the 5 months to come. Or maybe I should have specified that I also intended to be protected from minor, yet physically debilitating episodes.

I wouldn’t get any lucky with my bus back to Hanoi either. After several random stops to pick up people along the way, and 8 long hours later, it had a problem and stopped in the middle of nowhere. The sleeper bus that came to our rescue was full, so we were placed in the corridors in between sleepy passengers for a couple more hours. The biggest challenge was tiptoeing my way out without bothering/hurting anyone, as there were people, children included (who would be dropped off later), everywhere I looked. Unfortunately, none of this is a surprising occurrence in Southeast Asia and I was the only slightly outraged passenger.

If in the early stages of the trip the peculiarity of the situation would be somewhat amusing, after 4 months it just ignited my frustration and made me long for more developed destinations, with reliable means of transport. Now just imagine the locals who won’t have better alternatives to commute…