Sapa began life as a hilltop retreat for the French rulers desperate to escape the heat of the Vietnamese plains. They chose the lofty cool of Fansipan's surrounds and it's easy to see why -- the heat and hustle and bustle of Vietnam seems to drop away from the mountains peaks -- their nether regions skirted with finely sculptured emerald green rice terraces stretching away towards the coast.

Here you can come into close contact with a multitude of ethnic minorities -- Red Dao, Thai, H'mong, Muong and other minorities who have built their lives between the horns of the mountains, the colossus of China and the rapidly encroaching lowland Vietnamese. Staggeringly basic, these people's lives and lifestyles can offer a fascinating glimpse seemingly stolen from history and for many first-time visitors to Vietnam, the time spent in Sapa and its surrounds form an absolute highlight of their trip.

While the town is undoubtably overtouristed, there's nevertheless an appeal to Sapa which even the most jaded traveller will grudgingly acknowledge. The villagers, often having trudged for miles to get into Sapa, pound the streets -- day in, day out -- selling handfuls of bracelets made of cloth, quilts humped over arms and volumes of woven fabrics to a seemingly never-ending strem of backpackers and tourists. It's a touristic experience, and there's simply no avoiding it.

In their striking dress, full red or black with vampire like capes, curled and piled hair or thronged jewellery these villagers surprise with both their ruthless selling prowess and sudden candour -- be assured, their cunning and well developed sales routines come just as naturally as their giggles and smiles.

Such facts are both charming and infuriating. At times it can be near impossible to move for squads of diminutive women and children thrusting brocade into your unwilling hands and get used to having the serenity of a moment's contemplation interupted by the insistent mantra -- "you buy for me", "you buy for me". Escape lies in the hotel bars, restaurants, swimming pools and dramatically hung balconies that will entrap you just as sugared milk snares weary flies.