I Lived 7 Days with a Local Family

The address I had written down didn’t exist. It was pouring rain in Ha Giang, and my supposed guesthouse was nowhere to be found. A woman sweeping the porch of her wooden stilt house saw me standing confused in the mud.

She waved me over, offered me a towel, and poured me a cup of strong green tea. When she realized I had nowhere to go, she pointed to a spare mat on the floor loft.

I ended up staying for a week. We communicated through gestures, smiles, and the universal language of cooking. The tourism industry sells us ‘authentic experiences’ for hundreds of dollars, but the most authentic experiences cannot be bought.