Words by Toh Ee Ming
July 3, 2026

As international visitors begin finding their way to Mu Cang Chai, the Hmong are determined to welcome the world on their own terms.

A wide-angle, scenic daytime photo of a blue and white helicopter flying over the rolling golden rice terraces of Mu Cang Chai, Vietnam, near Garrya Mu Cang Chai resort. Mist and low clouds drift through the deep green valleys and mountain peaks under soft golden sunlight, while a winding mountain road cuts through the terrace steps below. — A scenic helicopter excursion glides above the mist-shrouded, golden rice fields of Mu Cang Chai.

A split-screen landscape showcase of Mu Cang Chai, Vietnam. On the left, a group of local ethnic Hmong women dressed in traditional patterned garments and colorful headdresses walk away down a sun-dappled dirt path winding through a dense forest of tall, slender pine trees. On the right, a detailed perspective captures water-filled terraced rice fields with young green seedlings sprouting in the foreground, stepping down toward a line of evergreen trees and vast, rolling mountain ridges under hazy daylight. Both photographs are credited to Elodie Gingast. — Left to right: Local Hmong women guiding a scenic walking trail through a serene highland pine forest, alongside an intimate view across the iconic, flooded step-terraces that carve into the Lao Cai (3 hours from Sapa) mountain range. (Photo: Elodie Gingast)

A dramatic wide-angle sunset view of the terraced rice fields in Mu Cang Chai, Vietnam during the water pouring season. The curved, stepped terraces are filled with water, perfectly reflecting the golden sunset sky like mirrors. In the foreground, a local farmer walks with a water buffalo through a flooded terrace layer, with rolling misty mountains and a winding river valley visible in the distant background under a bright sun burst. — Sunset view of the terraced rice fields in Mu Cang Chai.

Clinging to the back of my guide Khang A Tua, I’m part of a convoy of motorbikes traversing steep inclines and sharp switchbacks toward Mam Xoi Hill, a flat-topped rise coiled with jewel-green terracing, known locally for its resemblance to a traditional sticky rice tray and a viewpoint for what is rightly regarded as one of Vietnam’s most jaw-dropping vistas. Below us, the rippling curves of emerald rice terraces—emblematic of the surrounding Mu Cang Chai district—unfold as far as the eye can see.

It’s the onset of the water pouring season, when rice fields are flooded just before transplanting. In the distance, they appear to have turned to glass, glittering mirrors that hold mountains and sky. Some paddies see only the faintest blush of new shoots; others spill lush and green to the valley floor. A stray buffalo grazes here and there, unbothered. I gaze on these marvelous whorls and loops that hold decades of labor, of breaking, weeding, watering, planting, tending.

Despite its highly protected status as a Special National Site, Mu Cang Chai has remained largely unknown to international visitors, though that is beginning to change. What the Hmong people call Xo Mong (the secret valley of the Hmong) is only just opening itself to the world.

The scenic six-hour drive from Hanoi to the highlands of northern Vietnam’s Lao Cai (3 hours from Sapa) province is its own reward—it winds through Khau Pha Pass, or “Heaven’s Horn,” toward a landscape every bit as arresting as the limestone karsts of Halong Bay or Ninh Binh that draw most first-time visitors to Vietnam.

But it is more than a journey into the mountains; it opens a door into Vietnam’s cultural soul. The Hmong, an indigenous ethnic group who trace their origins to the mountainous regions of southern China, have called this land home for over four centuries, and make up around 90 percent of the local population. Their beliefs, stories, and ways of life remain fiercely, quietly alive.

Hospitality in the highlands

I found myself with a group of like-minded travelers at Garrya Mu Cang Chai, a tranquil sanctuary perched on the spur of a hill 1,000 meters above sea level. Operated by the Singapore-based Banyan Group, it is wellness-focused Garrya brand’s inaugural outpost in Vietnam; the property is fresh off its first anniversary at the time of my visit.

An aerial, elevated view of three unique luxury eco-villas with organic dome-shaped thatched roofs at Garrya Mu Cang Chai resort in Vietnam. Surrounded by dense green trees and foliage, each Mu Cang Chai Pool Suite features curved floor-to-ceiling glass windows and a private stone-tiled plunge pool on an outdoor deck. The backdrop showcases towering, lush green mountain ridges under warm afternoon sunlight. — An aerial perspective of the iconic Mu Cang Chai Pool Suites at Garrya Mu Cang Chai.

A spacious, sunlit luxury hotel bedroom interior of the Wellbeing Suite at Garrya Mu Cang Chai resort in Vietnam. The room features a king bed with white linens beneath a suspended frame draped in white netting, herringbone patterned wooden floors, a small writing desk with a lamp, and warm wood furnishings with blue textile accents. Expansive floor-to-ceiling glass windows and sliding doors open out to a private balcony with blue chairs, offering views of bright green terraced hillsides and mountains under a blue sky. — A spacious, sunlit luxury hotel bedroom interior of the Wellbeing Suite.

A wide daytime shot of the large, curved infinity swimming pool at Garrya Mu Cang Chai resort in Vietnam. The pool features turquoise water, tiled natural stone walls, and small landscaped rock islands with tropical green foliage. In the background, white lounge umbrellas line the pool deck next to a grand thatched-roof building, all set against a backdrop of rolling green hillsides, terraced slopes, and mountains under a blue sky with soft white clouds. Photograph by Elodie Gingast. — The large, curved infinity swimming pool, with stunning hillside views. (Photo: Elodie Gingast).

A view looking from inside a luxury bedroom out to a private plunge pool at the Garrya Mu Cang Chai resort in Vietnam. The minimalist bedroom features a plush bed with a custom woven local Hmong-patterned headboard. Floor-to-ceiling glass doors open completely to a private outdoor deck with an infinity edge pool reflecting the misty blue sky, directly overlooking rolling green mountains and lush terraced hillsides. — The expansive Mountain View Pool Villa at Garrya Mu Cang Chai.

Designed in partnership with Vietnamese studio LG Architects, the resort draws deeply from its surroundings, with sweeping bamboo structures that rise and dip with the terrain, offering floor-to-ceiling views of terraced valleys across 110 rooms, suites, and villas that open into the clouds. The bamboo, locally sourced from sustainably managed forests, was traditionally cured to endure Mu Cang Chai’s humidity and shifting temperatures without toxic chemical treatment. Private wellness spaces and valley-facing terraces echo the serenity outside.

The morning after a tremendous thunderstorm—the rainfall locals had been waiting for weeks—I watch from my deck as women in brightly colored clothes rush to plant corn, laughing and chatting. Beyond them, the hillsides are striped in hues of cinnamon and new green, punctuated by the occasional timber house on the slopes.

The bucolic views from the resort change with the seasons. Mid-September through October marks the harvest, when the terraces turn a brilliant gold. Winter brings wild white peach blossoms like snowfall, followed by pink plum flowers in their wake.

For the adrenaline-inclined, an annual paragliding festival offers a bird’s-eye view of the terraces, while the resort’s new helicopter transfer from Noi Bai International Airport trades the winding mountain drive for 60 to 75 minutes of panoramic flight.

Plans are also underway for a fashion show among the rice fields in 2027, in partnership with Vietnamese designer Chung Thanh Phong, best known for his bridal gowns. In a landscape this cinematic, it feels fitting.

A new kind of tourism takes root

For general manager Thinh Phan, operating in a relatively under-the-radar destination is “an incredible privilege,” but one that “carries immense responsibility.” He describes the resort’s approach as “low-impact, high-value tourism”—growing the local economy while trying to preserve the valley’s cultural and environmental character.

A split-screen photo composition showcasing cultural heritage in Mu Cang Chai, Vietnam. On the left, an artistic shot from behind shows a local ethnic Hmong woman sitting peacefully on the ground in a dense, green bamboo forest, wearing traditional embroidered garments and an ornate silver flower headdress. On the right, a close-up overhead shot captures a local artisan woman wearing a brightly patterned orange and yellow headscarf as she carefully uses a stylus pencil to sketch traditional geometric Hmong batik patterns onto a white textile sheet. Both images are credited to Toh Ee Ming. — Left to right: A serene moment captured as a local Hmong woman sits amidst the towering stalks of a bamboo forest; an intimate look at the meticulous process of sketching traditional geometric patterns for ethnic batik textiles. (Photo: Toh Ee Ming).

Left to right: An intimate portrait celebrating the enduring legacy and wisdom of a local Hmong elder; a display of handcrafted indigo textiles and drying corn crops reflecting traditional highland life in Lao Cai (3 hours from Sapa) (Photo: Mukul Bhatia).

Cultural encounters are integral to the resort experience, from brocade weaving workshops, herbal craft demonstrations, and sticky rice cake–making to village treks and storytelling sessions with neighboring Hmong communities. The resort says it sources directly from Hmong artisans and agricultural cooperatives, working with partners who continue ancestral techniques such as indigo dyeing and hemp weaving. More than 80 percent of its staff are hired locally, many trained from the ground up.

A key local partner is Na Na Cooperative, established in 2021 to offer community-based tours yielding deeper insights into the valley and its people. One evening, we’re welcomed into a traditional Hmong house for a home-cooked meal, and dig into herbal black chicken soup, wild vegetables, smoked pork, fish sauce with egg. The cooperative also trades in what the land produces: mulberry wine, black chickens and pigs raised by local families, and natural forest flower honey from hives tended by beekeepers.

After dinner, we gather round for the cultural performance “Butterflies in Flight,” presented by Hmong farmers from the cooperative. Khang shares how the butterfly is a powerful symbol of freedom, transformation, and the desire to live beyond limitation; but also of sorrow, loss, and sacrifice. One of Khang’s trainees, a reticent young man in his early twenties, is still taking an online class for his tour guide licence, and is deeply apologetic for holding up the start of the performance.

The show unfolds in three acts. First, the young man plays the flute, symbolizing the moment a child crosses into adulthood. The second act turns to traditional courtship rituals, where young lovebirds once communicated their feelings through song, even through the sound coaxed from a single leaf plucked from the path. The third centers on the qeej, the community’s most sacred instrument, whose sound guides the soul away from the body and back into the cycle of rebirth. Music here is not just art: it also serves a spiritual purpose.

Each excursion is a chance to learn more about Khang himself. Now 31, he grew up the eldest of six children in a farming family. I watch him move nimbly across the terrain, hopping between paddies or scaling trees with parkour-like ease. Thanks to his family’s sacrifices—his father did agricultural labour in China for years, and his back has never recovered—and the support of his community, he became the first Hmong student in Vietnam to attend the Hanoi University of Science and Technology, studying chemistry before dropping out when the fees became unmanageable. He later enrolled at Fulbright University Vietnam, and became a consultant at the United Nations Development Programme for two years.

But he always felt pulled back to his ancestral homeland. Together with his wife, a law graduate, he took on a community development manager role at Na Na Cooperative, building a network of local drivers and families that offers tourism experiences across the valley, channeling work to households putting their children through school and providing scholarships for local students.

Fiercely proud of his culture, Khang refers to visitors from what he calls the “lowlands” with a knowing affection. “Now, more tourists are coming, so more young people should come back,” he says. “I want to give back to the community, because I know how hard it is to send our kids to school, especially to university.”

The next day, we meet Ho Thi Bla, a 24-year-old Hmong farmer and mother of two young sons, at Mang Mu Village. Shy but bright-eyed, she began running beeswax workshops for visitors three years ago, teaching a technique she first learned from her mother and grandmother as a young girl. We clumsily attempt the tracing of intricate patterns in melted beeswax onto natural fabric, an ancient method used for making Hmong apparel.

These workshops are a way to earn income and share her culture, but also to revive a craft fast disappearing as mass production takes over and younger generations move on. To date, Ho’s visitors have come from France, Italy, New Zealand, and the United States. The work has made her more confident, and given her a way to express herself in English, which she learned in school and honed through YouTube and listening to artists like Adele. “When I didn’t do this job, I just stayed home,” she says. “But now I can talk with everyone around the world, share about my culture, tradition, many things. I’m very happy.”

She now has nearly 10,000 followers on Facebook, comprising fans from Vietnam who follow her content that brims with pastoral simplicity—daily reels of her leading tourists over waterfalls, foraging wild raspberries on the trail, attempting to introduce herself in French, every bit the rural influencer.

Ho wants to keep her corner of the valley intact, and is clear-eyed about what that means. In a video on her Facebook page, her voiceover is simple and unflinching: “This is my beautiful hometown where I was born and grew up. Many people ask me, do I want the place to be like a town or big city like Hanoi? But I say no. I just want to live in my hometown—the high mountains, the terraced rice fields, the peaceful life. Every morning when I wake up, I look at the sky, see the birds fly, see the clouds pass. That is my true life. In my hometown, everything is perfect.”

I get a taste of that, too, as we retreat into the hushed stillness of the Mu Chang Chai Bamboo Forest. There we lie on the cool ground, drinking in the green, watching the trees sway.

Slowing to the valley’s pace

Back at Garrya’s 8lements Spa, wellness is treated with the same intentionality as culture. The indoor hydrotherapy circuit alone is worth the journey. We start with a rain mist walk, then sample experiential showers that transport—from the gentle rainfall of a tropical rainforest, with a soundtrack of birds chirping overhead, into the full lashing fury of a Caribbean storm—then the infrared sauna, herbal steam room, ice fountain, silk baths, and cold plunge pools. In the snow room, my companion jokes that we feel like cheese in a cellar. Beyond this circuit, mornings begin with breathwork and grounding rituals, and guests can drift between aqua yoga, singing bowl sessions, and qi gong, all designed to do what the landscape outside already does naturally: reconnect you with the slow pulse of the highlands.

A split-screen lifestyle showcase for Garrya Mu Cang Chai eco-resort in Vietnam. On the left, a woman in white lounge attire carries a woven straw basket as she walks down a walkway beneath a massive, curving structural canopy made of natural golden bamboo poles. On the right, a close-up perspective from under a white shade umbrella looks out over a curved, turquoise tiled infinity swimming pool with stone handrails, revealing lush green valley ridges and misty mountain peaks under a clear sky. — Left to right: A stone pathway framed by the resort’s magnificent structural bamboo architecture (Photo: Mukul Bhatia), a tranquil view looking past the infinity pool steps toward the breathtaking mountain landscape of Lao Cai (3 hours from Sapa). (Photo: Elodie Gingast)

A split-screen wellness showcase for Garrya Mu Cang Chai eco-resort in Vietnam. On the left, a close-up shot shows a person in white clothing kneeling on a wooden floor, pouring hot herbal tea from a ribbed black teapot into a ceramic cup. Next to them is a wooden tray filled with natural wellness ingredients, including fresh ginger, cinnamon bark sticks, and small green citrus fruits. On the right, a serene spa scene shows a therapist performing a massage on a guest lying face-down on a massage table covered in white sheets, set against a floor-to-ceiling glass window overlooking lush, dense green trees. Both photographs are credited to Mukul Bhatia. — Left to right: A mindful herbal tea preparation featuring locally sourced ginger, cinnamon, and citrus ingredients, alongside a soothing holistic body massage therapy overlooking the resort’s lush, forested valley surroundings. (Photo: Mukul Bhatia).

A split-screen dining showcase at Garrya Mu Cang Chai eco-resort in Vietnam. On the left, a luxury restaurant interior features a soaring ceiling crafted entirely from natural golden bamboo poles, geometric tiled flooring, a curved white banquet sofa with ethnic Hmong-patterned pillows, and elegant wooden armchairs. On the right, a gourmet table setting features a selection of finely plated Vietnamese-inspired dishes, including seared duck breast with vegetables, a fresh stir-fry, a hot soup bowl, a fresh fruit platter with dragon fruit and watermelon, and a glass of red wine under warm sunlight. — Left to right: Inspired bamboo architecture inside the signature restaurant venue (Photo: Elodie Gingast); an elegant arrangement of private In-room Dining Moments featuring seasonal, locally sourced culinary delights.

A split-screen editorial feature for the "Presence of Place" series at Garrya Mu Cang Chai, photographed by Mukul Bhatia. On the left, a close-up portrait shows a young local Hmong woman with her eyes softly closed, wearing a magnificent traditional, intricate headdress adorned with dangling silver coins, large hoop earrings, and a heavy ceremonial silver necklace over a vibrant blue and black garment. On the right, a waiter in a neutral tunic holds a vibrant turquoise plate presenting a beautifully styled gourmet dish of braised pork or mushrooms on a bed of creamy purée, garnished with okra, garlic cloves, herbs, and edible flowers. — Left to right: A striking portrait celebrating the rich heritage of the local Hmong community; a masterfully plated wellness dish highlighting the seasonal, locally sourced gastronomy at Garrya Mu Cang Chai. (Photo: Mukul Bhatia)

In the comfort of my suite, each evening brings a ritual bath drawing on different traditions: from a delicate veil of rose petals on water infused with mountain honey to the ancestral forest herb recipes of the Red Dao people, said to soothe tired muscles and restore the body.

The kitchen at Refresh, the all-day dining venue, takes an equally considered approach that is plant-forward, rooted in regional recipes. I try the Cao Pha salmon noodle soup, a rich fish broth with local salmon, snail, and seafood paste; tofu and fresh noodles; and a grilled chicken served on bamboo with banana blossom salad and Tu Le green sticky rice.

On the cusp of change

Mu Cang Chai still feels blissfully uncrowded, the accommodation mostly homestays and guesthouses. Unlike Sapa—once Vietnam’s go-to highland destination—this district has not yet been scarred by overtourism. Local life continues uninterrupted: barefoot children call out hello, a small boy leads a herd of buffalo past, and locals pluck cicadas from trees and drop them into plastic bottles, presumably for frying a snack, Khang tells me. As we huff up a precariously steep slope, a group of Hmong women in traditional dress with woven baskets on their backs bolt past, laughingly giving us a push to help with the incline.

Positioning the area as a hub for adventure travel, eco-tourism, and nature-based retreats, local authorities have put forest preservation at the center of their strategy. Mu Cang Chai is home to nearly 83,000 hectares of forest, some 60,000 of which remain unspoiled. New events are emerging too. In May, over 300 runners descended on the valley for the district’s first terraced fields race, creating an unprecedented spectacle as they charged up paddies through thick mud, hauling themselves over terrace walls nearly as tall as themselves. In May 2025 alone, 34,500 tourists contributed nearly 33 billion VND to the local economy.

As tourism finds its way to one of Vietnam’s poorest districts, it promises to be a lifeline for families here. Khang is hopeful. New developments and infrastructure will come, and he welcomes that. But he’s also cautious. He’s seen what happened to Sapa: besieged by overcommercialization and land developers, price hikes, the Hmong there reduced to trailing tourists for money.

At home, Khang continues to teach his two children, aged four months and four years, the Hmong language, its festivals, its stories. But some things, he tells me, are not for outsiders to know. In his free time, he unwinds by watching over the buffalo, raising ducks, and playing frisbee. “We can preserve Hmong culture now, but we don’t know if it can remain the same,” he said. “Things are changing very fast.”

For Ho, the stakes are just as personal. She has a million dreams, she says, laughing, referencing one of the songs in the musical film The Greatest Showman. When we play it, she breaks into song. Dreams of good health, a good life, a future for her children. On Facebook, she once wrote: “A poor man is not a broke man. A poor man is a man without a dream. What if there are so many dreams?”

Mu Cang Chai: Northern Vietnam’s Secret Valley, Revealed