Or water buffalo, to be more precise. One of the main attractions in northern Vietnam is the weekly market in Bac Ha. Travel guides always list the local markets as must-see sites, but I'm usually disapppointed. They're good places to get cheap food but they tend to look alike: knockoffs of brand-name clothes, Yankee caps, beer tshirts, and so on.
Bac Ha is a real market where real Vietnamese people really shop. There are stalls geared toward tourists but the number of times I was asked "Mistah you buy from me?" was blessedly low. Most of the time I felt I was intruding. It's held on Sunday and people from the local hill tribes travel, often on foot, to by and sell.
It was cold and rainy the day I went. Muddy streams ran through the stalls.
The miserable weather made the place look like a refugee shantytown, but the mood was festive. People were enjoying themselves, except for these adorable little girls, standing arm in arm under an umbrella, looking like they'd be just about anywhere else.
This is clearly a big social occasion. I'm told that young folks there is a 'Secret Market', which isn't really a secret. It's the best and perhaps only way for young folks from the hill villages to meet and court. I could see for myself groups of women talking and joking in their elaborately stitched clothing.
The people in Sapa are primarily Black Hmong and Red Dzao. In Bac Ha they're primarily Flower Hmong. Unlike the understated (but quite lovely) garb of the Black Hmong women the Flower Hmong wear brightly colored clothing, with orange being the primary color.
I'm eternally mortified by the way tourists stick their cameras in the faces of local people without permission. Imagine being in your yard or office or in the aisle at the supermarket and having a foreigner stick a foot-long camera lens in your face at point-blank range.
I try to be more discreet. I don't feel bad about taking candid long-distance shots but if I want a close-up I'll ask permission. I wanted to get some pictures of the young girls in their Sunday best, but most of them really, really did not want their photos taken.
Four girls were standing together selling selling herbs. I asked if I could take their picture. The two on the ends both took a step to the side. One of the girls in the middle shook her head and put her hands in front of her face. This girl gave me a big smile. I showed them the camera so they'd know I only took her photo.
There were people selling the usual fruits and vegetables, herbs, meats, rice and other foodstuffs. But there were also blacksmiths making shovel blades.
And barbers.
If you're looking to buy or sell livestock this is the place to be: water buffalo, pigs, horses and dogs. Someone asked if the dogs were meant to be eaten. Our guide answered a bit too emphatically that they were not. My guess is his answer takes into account the western attitude toward dogs, that they are companions and not food.
Here is the area where the buffalo are tethered.
You can see the dramatic setting of the town, nestled in the hills, as well as the swampy conditions. I especially like the three women socializing on the right, seemingly oblivious to their dreary surroundings, except for the one on the left who is standing on a rock in a hopeless attempt to keep her feet from getting muddy.
After we gathered to wait for the minivan to take us to the next stop I noticed a motorbike packed up and ready to go. There are a couple of geese strapped to the side, some bulk goods tied to the back, and a dog, wrapped in plastic and tied to the seat!
The only part not wrapped in the plastic bag is his head. He seemed perfectly content and even closed his eyes and went to sleep as he waited for his master to take him home maybe he realized that being strapped to the back of a motorcycle is better than stewing in a pot, like the horse who went into this stew at the market.
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