I don't like to minsk words

The train from Hanoi to Lao Cai follows the Red River up to the Chinese border. My soft sleeper was comfy and I slept through most of the clickety-clack trip.

Lao Cai has nothing much going for it, it is a dull border town with only recently built, unusually shabby buildings. The whole town was constructed in or after 1979, not for a lack of history, but because the Chinese flattened the entire town during a fit of pique. There's a lesson to be learned from this: don't piss off the Red Army.

Most everyone arriving to Lao Cai immediately climbs into a shuttle van for the last leg up to Sa Pa. The only exception would be myself, who confused and confounded all the shuttle touts by plopping my butt down on the train station steps and refusing to move until all the shuttles had departed.

I was on a mission to be an independent traveler, rent a Minsk motorbike and travel around the back roads sharing solidarity and gathering insights with the colorful local hill tribes and to be "one with the people". (A Minsk is a Belarussian, 175 cc, 2-stroke workhorse of a machine. This would be sorta like turning up at Hertz and asking to rent a Studebaker.)

Finding a Minsk was no problem. I was offered one for $7.00 a day from the local pho cafe and Minsk rental emporium. Within minutes, a gentlemen turned up with a Minsk for my approval. The sad old bike was knackered even beyond my standards, so I had him adjust the front brake before I would take it for a spin around the car park. The bike ran OK, but the other issue was the weather: Lao Cai is fairly high up and the weather closely resembled Scotland's worst. I decided that it was far too slippy and slidey for me to risk riding on unfamiliar roads sans helmet and common sense. I declined the rental.

Turning from proud traveler into an impotent tourist, I tagged along on a day tour to visit a Sunday market where the "Flower Hmong" congregate. Even though I lost my traveler stripes, I had a blast, took heaps of photos and amused the Hmong with my girth.

After the tour, I hitched a ride up to Sa Pa (elevation 1600 metres) where it is very cold, very damp and completely fogged in. No matter, as the Pinochio (sic) Hotel, is looking after me very well for $8.00 a night. My balcony suite has a wonderful view of the mountains, or is supposed to anyway, for I cannot see more than 50 metres.