among hmong

sapa, vietnam

same same, but different. the dates and people vary, but the allegory should by now be very familiar. an ethnic minority found itself in a kerfuffle with the chinese and were soon packing up the lanterns and crossing a border. whereas the tibetans are experiencing a bit of the plymouth-rock-landing-on-them experience w/r/t the chinese, the hmong landed in a postcard in northern vietnam.

that's not to say that it's all plum trees and foggy mountains. because there are cherry blossoms as well. there are moseying buffalo, wild horses, heatlhy and disgusting pigs. let's not forget the terraced rice paddies that make these three thousand-meter mountains look like side profiles of massive, corn-rowed chia pets.

the point you all eventually see me making is that just because the setting is picturesque does not mean that daily life is. my two days of touristic trekking provide little in accreditation. if i'm being honest, i spent a little less time asking the "hard questions" and a little more taking pictures or breathing in the ascending fog. such is tourism.

there were four of us at the beginning of the day, though only the guide and i were there for the homestay portion. seeing four foreigners in hiking gear, a group of hmong children joined us for the ten kilometers down to the village where we had lunch. before and after raising chopsticks, at least a dozen more hmong women stopped by our table. there were opportunities to buy bracelets, earrings, purses, and other knit goods. to drive the bargain, the ladies asked where we were from and used a lot of action verbs. the subconscious stimulus behind all of it was the traditional garb.

you could see a picture of the people and the valley and think this was peru or bolivia. the dress is very similar. the ladies wear a headband and a bandana, the color varying by group (there are various sub-tribes.) their clothes are dark and stained by indigo, almost a more ethnic and elaborate take on baseball uniforms from the turn of last century. they sport hooped earrings and chained necklaces and blah blah blah why the fuck are they wearing them?

the answer is obvious. we expect them to wear that so that we can feel like the experience is authentic. this is not a new observation. so it was a relief to arrive at my homestay, a concrete structure with a sign overhead advertising the concrete structure as a, well, homestay. there were two floors, one drab and practically windowless and the other filled with at least twenty thin mattresses. the owner of the home had three small children and showed little concern for the stranger staying with him. his wife prepared an extra plate, because there was an extra mouth to feed. they all wore their "civies," so to speak. there would be no theatrics; just dinner, a bed, breakfast. hope you enjoyed your stay.

of course, there was more to it than that. they spoke no english, though through my guide, we briefly played the table tennis of basic biographical conversation. they shared the rice wine and laughed at my affinity for the chili sauce despite my obvious panting. the five year-old seemed to dig that i would method act karate with such determination. i think they understood i was disappointed when the power came back on and we no longer needed the two flickering candles. for some reason i think they appreciated that.

which is all to say that the whole experience was pretty ordinary. you pay, you do what you paid for, you leave. it is so depressing to see the costumes and pageantry; it's just another instance of peope subjugating their daily behavior to the expectations of those with money. my homestay was, basically, the exact same thing, just with the one layer removed that makes it all the more genuine. we need money, you have money, why don't you spend it here? we can all wear our blue jeans and maybe at some point during this transaction, we can toast with tiny porcelain cups and find something worth agreeing about.