The long and winding road . . .
. . . that leads to Cao Bang
Far northern Cao Bang province doesn’t seem that far from Hanoi, but maps can be deceiving. 300 kilometers of narrow, winding, mountainous roads separate the two areas, that in many ways are worlds apart. Hanoi is a city of concrete and glass buildings. An urban landscape filled with motorbikes, huge advertisements and government offices. Cao Bang is a province of stone, wood and thatch homes. A rural landscape with fields of rice and corn, surrounded by rocky mountains.
First, the roads. Generally, of surprisingly good quality, though as they wind up and down through the hills and valleys they remind me of when I used to drizzle chocolate syrup over ice cream mountains as a kid. But, that’s often the problem. An improving road system is used for much more than simply car traffic. I wrote earlier about how crossing the street in Hanoi reminded me of the old video game “Frogger.” Game creators could put together a new adventure based on the driving challenges faced on rural roads. Gamers would have to avoid chickens, pigs, water buffalos (and their excrement), dogs, small children, and larger children darting into the road, while steering around corn and rice placed by villagers on the roadside to dry. Of course, you can’t yank the wheel too much in the other direction or you’ll hit the helmetless motorbike driver who turns into the road without even checking oncoming traffic or the speeding bus in the wrong lane as it tries to pass the slow moving dump truck on a mountainous hairbend turn. Be careful of the vegetable and fruit stands the line the roadsides and the occasional piles of soil and rock from the recent mudslides.
To get to Cao Bang, we first passed through Thai Nguyen and Bac Kanh provinces. Thai Nguyen, famous for its tea, shifts from Hanoi suburb to agricultural land in a flash. Soon after passing into mountainous Bac Kanh, we noted dozens of bright, yellowy-orange corn cobs drying from the eaves of every house or on the side of the road. National highway 3 at first follows a lazy brown river before starting its uphill climb. We drive though bamboo groves and small villages with sawtoothed mountain ranges fading in and out of the distance. After so long in Hanoi, it’s strange to look out and not see crowds.
My assistant, Ms. Tu, was surprised to find traffic lights in Cao Bang town, but the city is growing rapidly, though its population still can’t be more than 40,000. Our hotel, the largest and most modern in town, was located in the city center. Like most facilities outside of the major cities, it hasn’t been that wonderfully maintained, though my room had a functional (if low flow) air conditioner, hot water and a clean bed. I opened up the mini-bar to grab a drink. Hmm. Winter melon juice. Not exactly what I was craving. What, else? White Fungus and Bird’s Nest drink. Exactly what I was not craving. How about some water? At a local restaurant, I note an interesting collection of vodkas. Vifranco’s advertisement appears to be Tom Cruise from Top Gun photoshopped in front of the Eiffel Tower. “Men” vodka, brewed locally, uses an American cowboy montage. Again, maybe I’ll stick with the water. I collapse into bed only to wake up at 4:45 the next morning from the noise from the town’s central market, directly underneath my window. After 30 minutes of listening to bargaining, gossiping, and squabbling, I give up all hope of sleep. Like many Vietnamese markets, you can find a wide variety of fruits, vegetables, meats, and spices for sale -- purple eggplants, giant jackfruit, frogs hopping in nets, and dried fish. In the meat section, cleavers fell like the percussion section of an orchestra (ok, an out-of-tune orchestra).
This being a work trip, I spend the morning in meetings with local officials. In the afternoon, we headed north to the Pac Bo caves, where Ho Chi Minh re-entered Vietnam in 1941 to lead the revolution. Just south of the Chinese border, its only 50 kilometers from Cao Bang, but over 2.5 hours, by car. Cao Bang is one of the poorest provinces in Vietnam, but in the warm late-afternoon sun, it looked positively idyllic, with peasants scattered through the rice fields. (Note: I realize it’s more idyllic to look at the hard work of peasants from an air conditioned SUV than to actually be doing the hard work of peasants). My camera taking skills, such as they are, could not do it justice, so I’ll just write down what I couldn’t photograph: boys splashing in a mountain stream, water buffaloes wallowing in the mud, a grandmother and a baby sheltering from the mid-day sun in a large concrete cylinder designed for a culvert, teenage girls gathered in front of a school, bright flowers exploding in red on vines covering a one-room house, waterwheels irrigating fields, and hill tribe women crowded at a local market.
Despite their importance to modern Vietnamese history, the Pac Bo caves are little-developed as a tourist attraction. Recent rains had led to minor flooding, which caused some challenges as we crossed a swollen Lenin Stream before heading up hundreds of steps to make it to the legendary caves. On a 95 degree day, I was covered in sweat by the time we saw the desk where Uncle Ho worked and slept while guiding the Viet Minh guerillas.
The next day, we headed 90 kilometers to the east to the Ban Gioc waterfalls. After passing through mountain passes overlooking terraced rice fields, we reached the falls at mid-day. This being a frontier area and me being a foreign diplomat, I was asked to register at the border guard station for my protection, but was allowed to enjoy the falls unmolested after that. Many Vietnamese believe the entire falls are within Vietnam’s territory, but the Vietnamese and Chinese governments agreed to a border with a chunk of the waters within China. China has built a hideous hotel with a tram leading to a viewing platform. Vietnam has a small restaurant that will kill and boil a chicken for you.
In the rainy season (now) the falls roar down over 53 meters and you can hire a boat to take you up close into the spray. Chinese boats cross into Vietnamese territory, while our boat touched Chinese soil. As an international border, locals row small skiffs out to the tourist boats to hawk duty free cigarettes. Nothing like the cool pleasure of a non-filtered cancer stick to enhance nature’s beauty.
