The embroidering ladies in Sapa

“Come sit down with us”, said the lady with a warm smile (the one looking at the camera in the photo here below). Rather, that’s what I concluded that she said since she gesticulated to me to sit down as she pulled out a traditional very low Vietnamese stool for me, like the ones they were sitting on. She was embroidering with a group of friends in the village Nam Cang, in the Sapa region.

The inhabitants in Nam Cang are of the Red Dao minority tribe. Ladies very often wear the traditional head dress you can see here and look at their pants: embroidered all over in a geometrical pattern. And they all seemed so welcoming.

Of course I accepted the invitation and sat down with the ladies. The verbal exchange was somewhat limited: I spoke to them in Swedish and English, and they addressed me in the Red Dao language. But they had no problems understanding what I wanted to know about their embroidery: yes, they had made their own pants and they often sat in that particular spot, central in the village, together. They sold a few items, including bags and purses (which they showed me and which I found difficult to resist buying), but no pants. At least they didn’t have any available there and then. I would have loved a pair.

On the previous day I had had my first encounter with a Red Dao lady with a warm smile. She was with some friends at a popular panoramic view stop on the road from Mu Cang Chai to Sapa. They sold a few items that they had embroidered and also other things such as ginseng roots.

On the way from Sapa town to Nam Cang there were ladies embroidering along the way and as we arrived at our lodge, the Riverside lodge, the ladies working there were sitting by the entrance, busy with embroidery.

One of my worse subjects in school was embroidery. I was very impressed by their skills.

After dinner there was a surprise concert for us six guests in the lodge. Three ladies were singing and three men played traditional instruments. The trumpeter had some issues with his mouthpiece, so he went to the kitchen to sort out the problem in order not to disturb. All the while the ladies were singing. He blew forcefully. His efforts were more than audible in the dining room and it was hard not to laugh at the cacophony when the wailing trumpet sounds mixed with the singing. I admire the ladies who just kept on, totally undisturbed. The mouthpiece problems were eventually sorted out and the performance could go on as planned, ending with us all, singers, musicians, staff and tourists, walking around the dining room in a procession.

 

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