Hill station blend of old, new

by Le Huong

A hill station for all seasons: An aerial view of Tam Dao District. Visitors can experience spring, summer, autumn and winter every day in the popular former French hill station. — VNS File Photos

Nestled high up in north-ern province of the Vinh Phuc, Tam Dao is perhaps the perfect respite from the heat and humidity of Ha Noi.

Tam Dao is just 86km northeast of the capital. The town, occupying 253ha, is 900m above sea level in the heart of Tam Dao National Park – the largest in the north.

The 80km mountain range has three prominent peaks, which is why it is named Tam Dao. The middle peak is called Ban Thach (Stone Table) and stands a proud 1,388m. The left peak is named Thien Nhi (Sky Market) and is 1,375m tall, while that on the right, named Phu Nghia, is 1,400m above sea level.

The French hill station is famed for the wraith-like mist that shrouds the town most mornings. By midday the fog lifts to reveal a mind-boggling panorama of hills and forests. The afternoons are typically cooler, while at night a chilly wind makes heavy clothing a must. In fact, each day in Tam Dao is like the four seasons of the year – summer, autumn, spring and winter.

Leading up to the town is a thin ribbon of road 20km long rising from the plain, while a silvery stream circles the town like a silk scarf around the slender neck of an enchantress.

The town is an ideal hideout for authors, which is why an annual writing competition is held in Tam Dao.

Rustic ruins: A vestige of French architecture still remains in Tam Dao.

Adding to the splendour of Tam Dao are the vestiges of old French colonial houses dating from the early 20th century harking back to the days of European rule. In all, there are about 200 colonial buildings still standing, but few can remember the days of the French. Local culture official Do Dinh Chuc introduced me to Nguyen Huu Duyen and Luu Ngai. Duyen, now in his seventies, who is a descendent of one of the first families to settle in Tam Dao, some 104 years ago. Ngai used to work as a maid in one of the French's villas.

That said, both remember only too vividly 1946 when locals applied the scorched-earth policy and destroyed the last vestiges of colonial rule during the Vietnamese war of resistance against the French.

Further information can be gleaned from the sixth volume of Indochina magazine published in June 1914. The magazine reads: "In 1904, a delegation sent by the Office of the General Governor of French Indochina sought a suitable place in the Tam Dao mountain range to build a summer resort.

"The delegation reported that they had found a suitable locality at a height of 930m. After two years of careful examination, the office began work in 1906 on the hill station."

The French occupied the town for the next three decades before it was totally destroyed in the war of resistance. In its heyday, the town had 143 stone-built villas, some owned by wealthy Vietnamese such as Ho Dac Diem, Hong Khe and Phu My.

The architecture in Tam Dao is reminiscent of Sa Pa, Da Lat and Ha Noi, a blend of the old and the new, and gave the nostalgic colonialists a taste of home.

The stone walls were typically 60-120cm thick. The slate for the roofs was imported from Toulouse and Marseille.

Little now remains.

Duyen and Ngai said life for them and the other 6,000 Vietnamese in the region was hard. Most served the wishes of their colonial masters. They were not allowed to settle in the town. Instead they were forced to live 2km away.

Today Tam Dao has 60 hotels and guest houses that are owned by 17 families. The district received about 1 million tourists in the first six months of this year, which is a 50 per cent increase against the same period last year.

The remaining 200 inhabitants earn a living from farming and growing su su (the local name for chayote).

"Chayote here are more delicious than those in other places such as Sa Pa," said Do Quoc Hai, a tourist from Ha Noi, while eating a bowl of chayote that had been stir-fried in oil and garlic.

Green chayote trellises laden with fruit can be seen everywhere. About five tonnes are picked each day. In fact, the unique taste of the fruit has become synonymous with Tam Dao. And when visitors reluctantly have to return to the noise and pollution of the city, a basket of the fruit is a happy reminder of the halycon days in the hills. — VNS

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Life on the lake

Sailing along Ba Be Lake, 150m above sea level and surrounded by primitive forest

The road to Ba Be Lake is winding and crooked.

At times concrete gives way to dirt and I begin to wonder why I’m travelling 240 kilometers northwest of the capital’s comforts.

By car, this trip can take seven hours.

Perhaps it is this treacherous road that keeps the mountains surrounding Ba Be Lake primitive and unspoiled.

As we neared the lake, the sky opened up and a powerful mountain rain began to fall. I was overwhelmed with the strength of this rain, which seemed to blur the soft green lines of the forest.

As the rain reached a frightening ferocity, Ba Be Lake appeared below us. The lake emerged through the tree branches like a powerful aquamarine monster. Stalks of vermillion corn and rice lined its banks while a patch of floating grass hung on the watery surface. The lake continued to peer at us through the trees as we inched seven kilometers down into the valley toward our home stay at the water’s edge.

Ms. Ho, our Tay host was waiting patiently in her raincoat. Behind her, a large wooden house loomed on stilts. Like other traditional Tay homes the main house is situated next to the kitchen. Family life takes place on the second floor while the ground “floor” acts as a kind of barn for water buffaloes and chickens.

Our terrace overlooks a small green field and a winding river that empties out onto Ba Be Lake. From here, the neighboring houses peek through the sprawling green like tiny mushrooms in a damp field. Before long, night falls and tranquility settles over the valley.

Sleep comes to me so softly.

About Ba Be

The 23,340-hectare Ba Be National Park is situated in the northern border province of Bac Kan. Neighboring hills rise up to 1,098 meters above sea level. Ba Be mean three lakes in Tay language, Ba Be Lake is nine kilometers long and averages one kilometer across. The lake’s deepest point measures 35 meters. At nearly 150 meters above sea level, Ba Be is Vietnam’s highest and biggest lake. It remains full all year round.

How to get there

Some travel to Ba Be by motorbike while others book their use a travel agent who can also help book home stays (around VND120,000 including breakfast).

The next morning we awake to the quacking of ducks. Our breakfast consists of fresh vegetables from the garden and fish caught in the small river in front of the house. “It rained heavy yesterday so the fish came up from the river bed. We caught a lot of fish with our vó (lift net, a traditional fish trap),” Ho said.

The pleasant mother said her family began opening their home to guests years ago, but they still maintain land for cultivation. Their days are spent in rice paddies, corn fields and their home vegetable garden.

They keep chickens and ducks. Sometimes her husband takes tourists out for a row on the lake. Life here seems simple and good.

In the morning, before making our way out onto Ba Be Lake we attempt to catch fish using the vó. We set the four bamboo sticks lined with the netting into the water and wait. When we feel a little movement, we yank the contraption out of the water. All around us, we see fishermen engaged in the same hunt.

In the end we catch a few small fries and spend a while under the trees snacking on our catch. “We should come back here tomorrow with some books,” my friend said as we wandered through rows of trees that seemed ready to fall into the river.

At 2 p.m., our boat was ready. Because we wanted to see a lot, we opted for a motorboat over the traditional long boats rowed by locals.

The midday sun had transformed last night’s big green “monster” into a giant, sparkling diamond. “We are on a lake 150 meters above the sea level,” I nearly shout, just to hear my voice echo through the valley.

The lake is so big that sometimes we have the feeling we are at sea. The shape shifts as it curves though channels lined with ancient evergreen forests. We float along on a deep blue; above us, white clouds cling to the mountain tops like the last remaining bites of cotton candy on the cone.

I try to picture myself in this place. Farming. Fishing. Picking fruit in the forest. The boat passes by a stand of v^i trees (a kind of plant whose buds and leaves can be used to prepare a drink like tea). My friend dives into the cool water and begins a slow swim. I step onto the bank and begin picking v^i buds to make tea back in Hanoi. As I begin plucking the buds, our guide tells us about a python that swallowed a whole goat on a nearby hill. I step nervously back into the boat, leaving the v^i trees alone.

The boat man tells us that we are approaching the Dau Dang water fall. Here, a stream bloated by last night’s rain feeds red clay rain into the deep blue.

We spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the quiet streams leading off the lake, following the gentle sounds of the falls, fishing and wandering through the woods.

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