editorial

In the cloud-covered highlands of Ta Xua, a chance trip unveils soulful encounters and H’mong hospitality.
Photographs by Vera Ong
<figure id="attachment_144610" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-144610" style="width: 1200px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="wp-image-144610 size-full" src="https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/9.jpg" alt="Ta Xua is for the locals the “new” Sapa – one that is less touristic, expensive and crowded; the kingdom view from 1941M Homestay, my chosen lodge in Ta Xua. " width="1200" height="894" /><figcaption id="caption-attachment-144610" class="wp-caption-text">Left to right: Ta Xua is for the locals the “new” Sapa – one that is less touristic, expensive and crowded; the kingdom view from 1941M Homestay, my chosen lodge in Ta Xua.</figcaption></figure>
I had not been previously introduced to cloud hunting nor to Ta Xua in Vietnam, but a snapshot taken from the spine of a mountain that popped up in my social media feed expedited my plans. The photo lured me with the surreal phenomenon that Ta Xua is becoming known for – a bed of clouds so thick it appears to fill entire valleys, creating a stairway to the beyond. 
While not yet discovered by many foreigners, Ta Xua in the region of Bac Yen, has gained popularity amongst young Vietnamese who have found the more popular sister highland retreat, Sapa, ‘expensive’ and ‘crowded’ due to the influx of international tourists. Ta Xua is a highland commune on the border of Tram Tau (Yen Bai) and Bac Yen (Son La) districts, 240 km from Hanoi which translates to an approximately seven-hour private car ride up the mountain with the highest point reaching nearly 3,000 meters above sea level. 
Because of its relative obscurity to international tourists, Ta Xua has the privilege of keeping its culture, food and environs pristinely local. And it is exactly this about Ta Xua that makes it alluring beyond the natural beauty it presents. As a traveler who prefers unstructured itineraries over meticulously planned holidays, I intentionally avoided researching this unknown region, wanting instead to experience Ta Xua as she presented herself, and not through the lens or keyboards of Internet warriors. 
<figure id="attachment_144611" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-144611" style="width: 1200px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="wp-image-144611 size-full" src="https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Untitled-design.jpg" alt="A plaque marking the location of a national heritage tree in Vietnam; Minh possessed a joie de vivre that would not have been typically assigned to her station in life. " width="1200" height="894" srcset="https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Untitled-design.jpg 1200w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Untitled-design-300x224.jpg 300w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Untitled-design-1024x763.jpg 1024w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Untitled-design-768x572.jpg 768w" sizes="auto, (max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px" /><figcaption id="caption-attachment-144611" class="wp-caption-text">Left to right: A plaque marking the location of a national heritage tree in Vietnam; Minh possessed a joie de vivre that would not have been typically assigned to her station in life.</figcaption></figure>
Once in the town of Bac Yen, it was apparent that familiar comforts of international brand establishments are nowhere to be seen. Ta Xua offers only local homestay lodges for accommodation options. However, I soon discovered my homestay in the mountains, was also my conduit to the local community. During what became the most meaningful afternoon of the trip, its owner, Mr Tai, took me further up the mountain from his lodge on the back of his bike to show off what he proclaimed as his “kingdom”. Six years ago, Mr Tai moved from Hanoi to build the homestay and farm and the latter is now run successfully by a motley crew of youthful Hmong men; 11-year-old Minh and her mom looked like their roles were to take care of the daily needs of the farm hands. Minh was washing a huge stack of bowls and plates when I arrived, and during my afternoon there was manning a pot over fire. Understudying the operations was 12-year-old Tai An, Mr Tai’s son. He tells me he is doing independent learning on a laptop but is mostly expected to work on the farm to learn its ways. 
In a few hours of being present in their everyday routines, and communicating tirelessly through a translation app and animated gesturing, I was able to establish a connection to the two children from whom I could not remove my gaze. They possessed a joie de vivre that seemed to belie their living conditions and opportunities in life. If I were to help them, what would help look like? What did they need to make them more content? They were difficult questions I did not have answers for – they looked happier and more fulfilled than most kids I knew growing up in the city I call home. 
I had come to Ta Xua hoping to experience “cloud-hunting” and even to take some Instagram-worthy photos. Instead, what I got were new life perspectives and personal connections that could neither be posted nor even shared.

Ta Xua: Vietnam Undiscovered