Top 8 Essays About the Northwest You Should Read

The Northwest forests are entering the Chit season.

Those who have been in the forest are no strangers to the Chit plant. Chit bushes can grow in many places, from lush creek beds to barren hillsides scorched by the dry wind, from cliffs beside winding mountain roads to tangled patches of grass, even flourishing in the shade. The tiny Chit seeds are easily carried by the wind, and when they land on moist soil, the seeds quietly sprout and grow. In the early days, they are just fragile green shoots, but after a season of rain, the plants grow into large, pointed leaves, each 7 to 9 centimeters wide, with a length of about two forearms. Chit plants belong to the rice family and can spread rapidly through seeds or by sprouting new shoots from broken clusters. As a result, Chit is one of the first plants to regenerate and cover lands that were previously barren due to landslides or fires.

For the people of the mountains, Chit is an integral part of daily life.

Mountain children, busy collecting firewood or wild vegetables, often find themselves hungry and thirsty after a day’s work. In these moments, they dive into the Chit bushes, quickly picking tender shoots and peeling off the earth-covered skin to chew. The sweet, refreshing sap of the Chit plant quenches their thirst, and the tender leaves offer a satisfying snack. With their stomachs filled, they laugh, throwing their bundles of wood or wild greens over their shoulders, heading home.

The girls in the village gather dried Chit stalks, which, once dried, turn a shiny golden color. They cut them into 10-centimeter sections and use them to play their version of hopscotch, tossing a fruit or ball while chanting rhymes. The boys cut the older Chit stalks into shorter segments and use them to make birdcages or to fish for wild animals. Their eyes sparkle as they chase after wild birds, sometimes getting scolded for their mischief.

The leaves of the Chit plant are mild and easily found throughout the year. In the winter, when fields are bare and there is no grass for cattle, Chit leaves become a lifeline for feeding livestock.

Women in the family use Chit leaves to make traditional rice cakes, wrapping sticky rice in the pointed, vibrant green leaves. The cakes are boiled until they become translucent, their sweet aroma mixing with the earthy scent of the Chit leaves. Once cooked, the cakes are soft, chewy, and infused with the sweetness of honey.

The Chit plant is most commonly harvested between January and March, when the flowers begin to bloom on the hillsides.

The flowers, though not particularly beautiful, are eagerly awaited by the people of the Northwest. The delicate green blossoms gradually open, with their tiny seeds clinging to the long, flowing stalks. The locals harvest these flowers carefully, often picking them in the early morning or late afternoon to sell to broom makers. The Chit flowers are used to make brooms, which are preferred because they don't require bending too deeply when used, unlike traditional straw brooms. People return from the forest carrying bundles of Chit flowers, which are boiled and sun-dried before being sold.

In recent years, the larvae found inside the Chit stalks have become a local delicacy. From November, the search for the golden Chit larvae begins. These larvae, with their pale yellow bodies and distinctive orange stripes, live inside the Chit plant, feeding on its shoots. When the plant is infected, the top of the stalk swells, and the plant will no longer flower. People carefully harvest the stalks, extract the larvae, and prepare them for cooking, medicinal use, or drying for sale. The larvae are said to be nutritious, with many believing they have healing properties similar to Chinese “dong chong xia cao” (cordyceps). This local delicacy is becoming more popular even in the lowlands, where people eagerly await the Chit season as a gift from the mountains.

The people of the Northwest continue to cherish the Chit plant, and in return, the plant continues to nourish them, year after year.

Sơn Nữ

Reading the title of this article, you can almost smell the distinct, spicy fragrance of wild pepper that is cherished in the Northwest. The spice loved by the locals, which adds an unforgettable flavor to their dishes, is known as Mắc Khén. This small, grayish-yellow fruit is harvested in October and November, primarily from the regions of Sơn La, Lai Châu, and Điện Biên. Mắc Khén is carefully dried, roasted, and then ground or pounded to be used in a variety of dishes, from marinating meat to making the famous Tây Bắc dipping sauce called Chẳm Chéo.

To truly appreciate the taste of Mắc Khén, it’s essential to enjoy it in local dishes like grilled fish or a unique dish made from mountain moss. The moss used in these dishes grows naturally along clean, fast-flowing streams and is harvested in late autumn. After cleaning the moss thoroughly, it is prepared in different ways: as a refreshing soup, a salad, or grilled with spices such as Mắc Khén, garlic, chili, ginger, and lemongrass, wrapped in leaves and grilled over hot coals. Eating this grilled moss is an unforgettable experience.

Besides moss, fish is another integral part of the local cuisine. The locals use natural spices like Mắc Khén and wild herbs to prepare their fish, creating flavors that are distinct, aromatic, and full of nutrition. One such dish is Pa Pỉnh Tộp, a grilled fish dish made with river fish like carp or tilapia, marinated with ingredients like fish sauce, Mắc Khén, lemongrass, and chili. The fish is grilled until golden and aromatic, then served with a spicy, salty Chẳm Chéo sauce. This dish is often the centerpiece of wedding feasts and important gatherings in the region.

During the Mắc Khén season, the locals harvest and dry these fruits, hanging them in their kitchens to preserve them for later use. The unique dishes from the Northwest, combined with such special spices, make the region’s culinary culture rich and memorable. A single taste of these delicacies will leave an everlasting impression of the mountain and forest flavors of this beautiful area.

Đặng Thùy Tiên

She loves to call the autumn sunshine of the Northwestern region of Vietnam like that. It is the golden sunshine, dazzling like intricate embroidery under the autumn sky. The sunshine shimmers in colors, a sight that one can only encounter in the highlands of the Northwest. To put it another way, she enjoys recognizing the hues of the autumn sun as resembling the colors of traditional ethnic fabrics. This is the time when orchards are laden with ripe, golden fruits, and the sweet fragrance drifts through the air, inviting all to partake. The sunshine weaves magical floral patterns on the slopes of empty hills, dancing and playing with the wild winds. It illuminates the golden ripeness of rice on terraced fields, shines on the hair of the girls from the highlands, and reddens the cheeks of young faces. The sunlight also reflects the pinkish tint on the lips, the purple glow on baskets of sticky rice, and the deep black tones of the traditional blue garments worn by the H'mong people. That is the shimmering, colorful sunshine of the Northwest, a stark contrast to the oppressive heat of summer. Autumn, with its cool breeze and the scent of fresh green rice cakes, has arrived. Let’s journey together to the Northwest and listen to the sunshine sing. The sunlight brings distant journeys closer, painting a vibrant trail of flowers and colors with every step you take. The sunlight has nourished fruits from spring to summer, and by autumn, they are ripe and fragrant. The autumn fruits—bright orange, golden, or red—are plentiful, their colors like lanterns glowing in the breeze. The aroma of ripe guavas, bananas, and jackfruits mingle with the scent of persimmons. On every road leading to the Northwest, the winding paths make the autumn sunshine seem even more magical, as though in a dream. When the sky is filled with the brilliant glow of embroidered fabrics, the fragrance of fruits fills the air, calling forth the golden seasons of harvest. The autumn sun gleams across the hills, calling to the sun on the other side. The autumn sun is opening up a world of lush, fragrant beauty before your eyes. The ethnic groups of the Northwest celebrate their independence festival on National Day (September 2), a time of festive excitement, especially for the young men and women who come down from the mountains to join in the celebrations and find companionship. The Northwest is beautiful in every season! Each season brings a unique, rich fragrance and color. The shimmering, warm, intimate, glowing, and nostalgic sunshine of the Northwest will captivate your heart. Follow the course of the Red River to experience the beauty of the land. From the heart of Vietnam’s land, the Red River will whisper to you countless stories, unveiling its secrets. One day, she allowed herself to fly and sing along the Red River, soaring on the wings of poetry. Returning to her homeland in Lao Cai, overwhelmed by an unending longing, it was like a beautiful and surreal journey. It was like a movie opening in her imagination. She went back to her childhood, walking along the river and gazing at the little bridges that she had known since she was young. She found herself in those magical golden autumn sunbeams, which shone brightly on the old roads, on the old hills, on the familiar old faces. The golden autumn light was reflected on the faces of the mountain women, who, despite the passing years, remained youthful, simple, and innocent. Their smiles had no age. The sunlight of the Northwest, bright and iridescent, was a reality in her soul. The sunshine was both warm and radiant, sparkling like an illusion. The mountain town of Sapa in Lao Cai is always waiting for her return. She felt as though she was flying through the sea of clouds, journeying back to her childhood memories. She sought the old, swaying suspension bridge, still trembling in her memory. The bridge crossed over a small stream, its clear waters and sandy banks sparkling in the sun. That bridge had carried her childhood dreams, and memories of walking across it when it was slippery from the rain rushed back. She recalled the days when she used to walk to school during the years of evacuation (1969-1970), holding onto the ropes of the suspension bridge with her tiny hands, trembling with each step. Below, the stream was murky, swollen by the rains of the monsoon. It was an innocent and naive time. The hills, lying in the soft mist, seemed to be dreaming. The terraced rice fields on the mountainside glistened with ripe golden crops, waiting for the harvest season. She vividly remembered the steep slope she had to climb to reach Sapa, shrouded in fog, where the old, tall pine trees stood against the sky. The winding path made the stream below look like it was gazing up at the mountain. Was it the laughter of the H'mong girls carried on the wind, or the sound of the church bell ringing in the distance? Could it be the footsteps of young men and women walking their horses to the market? She could hear the tinkling of silver bracelets as the women walked along, their steps in harmony with the rhythm of nature. Journeying deeper into the distant highlands, she admired the lush forests and remembered the sound of the wind playing through the bamboo flutes. Do the H'mong men still call their lovers through the wind? The stream murmured, telling its tales as the waterfall crashed with a roar, sending a mist of white foam into the air. The autumn sunlight sparkled on the leaves. Her homeland, Lao Cai, was filled with endless passion and beauty. Singing a tune of “Stone Age Blues,” she pondered how old the moss-covered rocks were. She reminisced about the times when the wind turned the colors of her hair to green. The mountains, standing silently, waited as the clouds rolled by. The marketplace was soon to close, but the terraced fields under the distant hills were still bathed in the green sunlight, waiting for the golden harvest. At night, she dreamed of green autumns, remembering the girls of the past who used to weave sunlight from the golden fabric of the autumn rays. The sunshine of the Northwest still shimmered in her heart, its love and memories entwined in every thread of her life. Sunshine, sparkling through the trees, carries the sound of birds in the late afternoon. Love remains, green in the eyes of the mountains. The endless green of the borderlands! This is the beloved land of Lao Cai, her childhood homeland, where the mountains and forests stand tall, where the land and people are deeply intertwined, where the soul of the plateau thrives, and where the people live in harmony with nature. This is the borderland, the source of the Red River as it flows into Vietnam. Here, small streams run like veins of life, always clear and pure. The streams of her childhood still flow in her heart, echoing with the sweet sounds of autumn sunshine.

After waiting for so long, I finally made my way to the beloved land of the Northwest. The road to Hà Nội – Lào Cai highway felt endless as we raced forward, with an overwhelming sense of openness I had never encountered before. Gradually, the bustling villages and crowded cities faded away, and the Northwest appeared, veiled in mist, vast and mysterious like a young maiden dreaming through spring, lying serenely and invitingly in the arms of the mountains. The thatched-roof stilt houses peeked out from the slopes, and the whispers of the forest leaves and the murmurs of the streams filled the air, creating a sensation that tingled on my skin and a feeling that tightened my chest.

Sa Pa welcomed me on a misty day, as winter was slowly letting go of its grip and bidding farewell. The winding road between the skies was shrouded in a mist that seemed reluctant to part with the last traces of the cold season.

My emotions fluctuated like a symphony of changing notes as I ventured into a land that had previously only existed in my dreams. Walking through the misty veil, I felt like I had stepped into a romantic love story. The soft drizzle gently kissed the young buds, and the air was thick with the scent of the earth transitioning between seasons. Despite the chill, I could still feel the tender touch of spring arriving in the wind.

At times, we passed through clear patches where, through the car window, I could see the peach blossoms perched on the cliffs, floating between heaven and earth in a delicate dance with the lingering mist. Spring in the highlands always starts with a gentle step on the fragile peach petals, and the sight of the pale pink blossoms made me forget the dizzying twists and turns of the mountain roads.

For anyone, the first meeting is always unforgettable. As I sat in the cable car climbing to the peak of Fansipan, the drizzle around me thickened, and the white mist surrounded us, narrowing the space into a pure white curtain. In that moment, I imagined the women beside me in the cabin as modern-day versions of Thúy Vân and Thúy Kiều, rising up to Sa Pa to experience the serene beauty of the mist. This fleeting thought vanished as the mist cleared, and the cable car ascended above the valley. The view before me, with the forest, waterfalls, and layers of clouds descending from the peak, was so mesmerizing that it could be compared to the feeling of holding hands for the first time with the one you love.

As we climbed the long slope, the clouds seemed to wrap themselves around our feet as we ascended to the peak of Fansipan. We decided to skip the modern convenience of the cable car and hike up to experience the feeling of conquering the roof of Indochina. The Bích Vân Zen Temple emerged in the vastness, and the sound of the temple bell echoed faintly, mixing with the incense fragrance, evoking a sense of nostalgia for a distant, sacred land. The mist and spring rain on the over 3,000-meter-high mountain helped clear my soul, washing away the everyday hustle and bustle and replacing it with a profound sense of pride in the beauty that nature had bestowed upon my homeland.

Spring in Sa Pa is a festival of flowers. The mountains of Hàm Rồng are covered in blossoms of every color, with vivid red flowers resembling lips or lanterns hanging in front of restaurants and hotels. Bright red banana flowers bloom at the base of the towering green mountains. The wild orchids seem to hang carelessly on the old, gnarled trees, releasing their fragrant perfume. The most vibrant of all are the flowers embroidered on the dresses of the local girls. Their intricate patterns, bursting with color, seem to draw butterflies to flutter around them, as if life itself were caught in the delicate movement of the flowers. I walked around the local market, picking up two lovely orchid stems as souvenirs. A writer friend who had lived in Sa Pa for decades remarked, 'These orchids will wither if you take them back home.' The wild orchids cannot live away from the mountains; once separated from Sa Pa’s mist and clouds, they lose their essence, withering away as if their tears have dried up. They cling to the clouds and mountains, offering their beauty and fragrance to the world.

If life were like this—if we could stay forever in the places or with the people we love most—I would choose to remain here, watching the white clouds rest gently in the sky over the Northwest. But life is a journey of continuous departures, and we must part even from the most cherished loves. Back in the bustling city, even in the midst of the noise, a part of my soul still lingers in the white clouds high above the Northwest.

Collected

The golden hues before my eyes, the shimmering, captivating beauty of autumn. It's the color of sunlight, golden like poured honey, blending with the rich, warm yellow that blankets the terraced rice fields, flowing and gentle, stretching across the vast land. Yên Bái in autumn is simply breathtaking! I want to capture every moment of it in my eyes, I want to soar with the sky and earth, Yên Bái!

I have visited the Northwest many times, each time challenged by the high passes, deep valleys, and winding roads that take my breath away, but I have fallen in love with the Northwest. In Moc Chau, Son La, summer brings cool, endless hills, with ripe, sweet plums like a girl in full bloom, enticing in the peak of ripeness. Then there’s Sapa, misty and ethereal, half-hidden in the clouds, as enchanting as a shy bride under her veil on her wedding day... But this is my first time experiencing Yên Bái in the autumn.

The song 'The Road to the Northwest' by composer Văn An echoes through my journey: 'The road to the Northwest is far, the stilt houses appear... Together to protect the homeland, with the strength of youth, we fight on...' I remember the lines of poet Bùi Minh Quốc, written after the liberation of Điện Biên: '...To the far Northwest, across the thousand hills/ ...Down below, they speak with hesitation/ As we leave, the fire in our hearts still burns.' The emotions of the songwriter and poet still resonate within me. After more than 400 kilometers, passing through fields, towns, and villages, across steep mountain ridges, and rivers flowing in the opposite direction, I finally reached this land. I was in awe of the unspoiled natural beauty, wild and majestic. Before me lay peaceful yet fierce streams, winding through stone crevices, playing an endless forest melody. There were dense, mysterious forests and the melodic calls of birds echoing in the vast mountains, weaving a magical symphony.

The town of Nghĩa Lộ appeared, nestled within the Mường Lò valley. The homestay stilt houses stood humbly, like the welcoming smile of the host, who greeted us with warmth and joy. A feast of local specialties awaited, accompanied by the fragrant, intoxicating aroma of corn wine. The joy of meeting friends from the press and the exhilarating thrill of being in the sacred gateway to the Northwest, where the earth and sky meet, filled the air.

That night, we attended the Mường Lò Festival, a gathering of thirty ethnic groups, celebrating the rich cultural heritage of Yên Bái. The festival was a kaleidoscope of colors, showcasing the diverse traditions of the Mông, Dao, Tày, Nùng, Giáy, Thái, Mường, and other ethnic communities, shining in their vibrant glory.

The sound of drums, gongs, flutes, and the high-pitched sound of the khèn filled the air, drifting through the forest of ban trees, urging the dancers’ feet to move in time with the Xòe flower dance, as colorful scarves fluttered in the breeze. Her lips were as red as ripe cardamom in the winter. My soul was swept away by the songs of the highlands, like 'Thu Khau Phạ,' intoxicated by the rhythm of the Xòe dance with her hand in mine...

The winding road led me to the La Pán Tẩn plateau, with its stunning landscapes that captivate the heart. The golden rice terraces on the high mountain passes and deep valleys, the terraces nestled against the mountainside, curve gracefully under the soft autumn sun and breeze. The mountain ranges, painted in vibrant hues of yellow, shimmered with the reflection of the sun. The terraced fields, sculpted by generations of mountain people, are not just agricultural marvels; they are living cultural heritage that has stood the test of time. The Mù Cang Chải terraced fields, now a National Heritage site, are a place where every autumn, photographers, artists, and travelers converge to capture the magical essence of this place. Lost in the dazzling yellow of the rice fields and mesmerized by the soft mist resting on the shoulders of the village girls, I wish I could stay forever, to catch that fleeting moment when the sun sets behind the hills, when the sky turns a dreamy purple, leaving me with an indelible memory of autumn in this beautiful land.

The sun casts a golden glow over the Khau Phạ Pass. Tourists stand on the steep, dangerous pass, delighted by the sight of colorful paragliders soaring high, like moons pulling stars through the autumn breeze. The sky is vast and endless, as is the green of the terraced rice fields, the forests, and the mountains below. Watching the paragliders, I too long to soar high, to explore the skies, to test my limits with this thrilling sport.

Below, in the Tú Lệ valley, the rice terraces of the Thái and Mông people look like soft, flowing silk. The scent of young sticky rice mingles with the distant rhythm of pounding rice, as the Thái girls, their faces rosy by the fire, delicately sift through the rice grains. With each bite of fresh green rice, I tasted the bittersweet beginning that transformed into a sweet, smooth flavor, like my heart melting with the taste of autumn. The rice, offered to ancestors in gratitude for their labor, is not just a delicacy, but a cultural symbol, a living memory passed down through generations. It’s the pride of the people of Tú Lệ.

Climbing up the winding road, we reached the village of Lìm Mông, hidden among the clouds. Here, the ancient plum and peach trees stand proudly, with terraced fields at their best during harvest season. Lìm Mông is a beautiful picture of peaceful life, with Mông girls wearing blushes of pink and radiant smiles, surrounded by gentle clouds drifting across the sky and birds flying above the quiet fields.

The ancient tea trees of Suối Giàng, hundreds of years old, stand tall and green. The leaves, fresh and tender, give off a fragrant aroma. I sipped the tea, feeling the bitter taste at first, before the sweetness took over, lingering in my mouth like a memory that wouldn’t fade.

Leaving Yên Bái, my heart is full of longing for this land, rich in history and culture. I will never forget the warm smile of the host, the fragrance of black sticky rice, or the smoothness of the wooden stairs in the stilt house where I sat, listening to the Mông boy’s folk song: 'The night has passed, the circle changes/ I walk home/ But my soul still lingers with your áo dài.'

Collected from various sources

My love for the Northwest began in my childhood when I first heard the song “Song of the Northwest” by composer Bui Duc Hanh, based on the poem by Cam Giang, sung by singers Kieu Hung and Thu Hien. At that time, I didn’t know who wrote the song, but I knew I loved listening to it. The lyrics were beautiful, the melody lively, and the song vividly captured the enchanting beauty of the Northwest that captivates the soul. The charm of the song made me feel the dreamlike beauty of the Northwest, yet its authenticity was undeniable. I believe anyone who listens to this song would share the same feeling about the Northwest.

“The trees are green, and flowers bloom, greeting the spring’s arrival.

Joyful in the golden sunlight, butterflies fluttering around the blooming flowers.

The river murmurs, as if a thousand melodies are playing beside me.

A gentle melancholy stirs in the air, as a flute plays a vibrant song...”

The Northwest has inspired many beautiful songs and poems. As I grew older, my admiration for the region deepened. I became eager to hear every song or read every poem about the Northwest. I loved the Northwest, with its sacred forests, its deep mountains, its vibrant wildlife, its clear blue skies, and soft white clouds. The region is filled with fragrant forests, winding rivers, and gentle breezes guiding the way. It’s a place where one feels the beauty and spirit of the land, a place of memories and longing...

“…I am the Ma River, and you are the Mường Hung Mountain
Let my boat sail upstream, the wind bringing me to the mountain
Come, wait by the stream, I will be by the riverbank
I will nourish the land, and you will bring joy to the village...”

I see mist rising, the mountain pass hidden in clouds, winding roads full of bends. I see the Thai girls carrying the wind and the clouds, walking through endless fields, tracing the footsteps of nature... On the other side, a sheer cliff, and on this side, a deep abyss. Oh, Ma River, oh Mường Hung Mountain! Since its creation, this poem has quickly evolved into a song with sweet lyrics and a melody full of emotion, at times joyful and at times poignant. The words are beautiful, and the melody is simply mesmerizing. What’s remarkable is that composer Bui Duc Hanh managed to weave the essence of Thai folk music and the regional flavor into the song, which, in 1957, became a masterpiece of vivid imagery and lyrical beauty. The creator perfectly captured something that seemed to foretell the future.

“…I am the Ma River
You are the Mường Hung Mountain…”

Decades later, people from Son La are incredibly proud that the Mường Hung hydropower plant was built on the very Ma River from the song. This river now sings its own song, bringing electricity to light up homes and dreams, changing lives in the villages along the river’s banks.

Oh, Northwest… I long to explore the entire Hoàng Liên Sơn range, where Sapa lies like a heavenly paradise in the early morning. Time may pass, but Sapa remains timeless, like a soft silk ribbon, like a landscape from a dream. I miss the love market, where souls are lost in passion, intoxicated by the moment, and when leaving, forgetting the days and months... I want to travel the length of the region, gaze far and wide at the sweeping scenery of the Northwest, a land filled with love, a land full of longing... I stand atop the majestic Fansipan mountain, silent as I take in the scene—where clouds merge with the sky, where the mist meets the earth, and I feel at one with the universe, my heart floating in the boundless skies.

The seasons here are like colorful garments, draped over the Northwest throughout the year. Each season has its own unique beauty, and anyone who visits never wants to leave. My love for the Northwest began long ago, and it has become a part of me. The region is grand and powerful, yet has a quiet, gentle beauty all its own. The Northwest has taught me that love does not always require possession, as true love simply exists as it is. The Northwest, with its strength and grace, remains forever beautiful in my heart.

Oh, those tireless mothers, working all day and night, carrying their children on their backs, taking them to the fields. Oh, these mothers, who forget their exhaustion, their backs bent under the weight of the world, yet they still carry the night’s moon and their children home. I hope that one day all the children will go to school, to learn and appreciate the beauty of knowledge. It is crucial to nurture their hearts and minds, to open them to the world.

The Northwest is vast and majestic, full of beauty and life. The great mother nature embraces it, protecting the land, ensuring it remains forever peaceful and vibrant. A lush green landscape, stretching far and wide, where life flourishes...

“…In the forest, birds sing joyfully, the sound fills the air
The clear waters reflect both you and me
Together we live happily, side by side with the mountains and rivers
The country is at peace, and happiness is like the spring...”

Lê Minh

I find myself floating gently, walking through a white plum blossom forest under the clear sky. The tiny, pure white petals are falling, scattered by the wind, floating gracefully in the breeze. A whole forest of white plum blossoms drifts, beautiful like a celestial dream. The white plum blossoms of spring bloom brightly across the hills and mountains of the Northwest. Winding paths from the mountain town lead visitors on foot, guiding them towards the foot of the mountain. The sweet fragrance of spring flowers fills the air! My daughter has found the perfect orchard where I can fulfill my dream of admiring the white plum blossoms. Suddenly, I find myself lost in a garden of white blossoms, how beautiful it is! A fairytale garden, glowing under the evening sun. The white plum blossoms, radiant in the golden light of the late afternoon, are real. There are flowers, fruits, and tender buds on the branches, and especially, a deep emotional connection when I look at the ancient plum trees. The trunks, weathered and cracked, stand firm like wise old beings. The young buds stretch their hands, welcoming the breeze. These trees are full of life, joyously releasing their sap into the spring air. The tiny, green plums are peeking out from the branches. I adore these sweet, young fruits of the season! Walking hand-in-hand with Cu Bi in the orchard, I remember the verse: 'Children are like buds on branches…' so meaningful! I gaze at the shy, young fruits, still covered in a layer of fine white powder. I can already feel the arrival of spring in the gentle breeze. The spring of the Northwest and the memories of white plum blossoms from my childhood are returning. My dream opens up to a forest of blooming plum blossoms at the foot of the mountain. The spring of the Northwest is not only beautiful for the typical colors of peach and ban flowers that embellish the beauty of the mountains and forests. These flowers have been immortalized in poetry and songs for so long. Right now, my thoughts are drifting to the memories of my childhood in a faraway borderland in Lao Cai. That place, where the spring of the Northwest always comes alive with entire forests. My childhood memories cannot be complete without the sight of blooming plum and peach trees, those white, pure blossoms that are always magical. The spring of the Northwest always blooms and fills my thoughts, especially during these days of Tet. The memories of the mountains are inseparable from the dreams of my youth. I once longed for those white, pristine plum blossoms that would bloom brightly amid countless emotions. Their purity and simplicity have stayed with me throughout my life. White plum blossoms harmonize perfectly with the hills, the land, and the rivers of the highlands, making the mountains brighter. The forest of white plum blossoms will look even more enchanting and mystical through the lens of photographers. It seems that everyone feels less burdened when they are surrounded by flowers. Standing in front of flowers, one's heart feels lighter. It is during these moments that people tend to reflect on life, think about the struggles of those who are battling the hardships of survival, especially after the pandemic of the century, Covid-19. When the practical, competitive, and dishonest ways of life dominate, the world becomes more tiring and chaotic, and flowers become rarer. It seems that the colder the weather, the more ethereal and dazzling the plum blossoms become. In the cold spring air, their beauty is simply heartbreaking. The flowers of the Northwest mountains absorb the cold mist of the earth and sky, creating a fragile, pure beauty. Each cluster of flowers opens quietly and modestly. The flowers bloom innocently in the deep valleys or in garden orchards that look like a dream. The plum blossoms still quietly release their fragrance, a pure scent that travels far into the distant highlands. It does not matter if anyone cares about the fragile fate of the flowers or not. Every time I gaze at the blooming plum blossoms during spring, my heart is filled with nostalgia. The white petals, along with the green leaves, bloom beautifully in the sunlight. The flowers always bring back childhood memories. It is a pity that the orchards of white plum blossoms in the Northwest are becoming more and more sparse. Later, when I grew up and had the chance to travel to various places, I would occasionally spot a plum tree in full bloom. It would feel like a joyful coincidence. I often stand there for a long time, admiring the white plum blossoms with an indescribable passion. My childhood memories would return, and emotions would overflow in the sight of the white plum blossoms. These pure, white flowers bloom on the mountains, in the yards of houses, and in the gardens of friends, always captivating me. When the plum blossoms bloom, spring has arrived. The spring in the highlands becomes as dazzling as the magical landscape of a celestial realm. I have walked to many places, and I consider myself fortunate to have visited almost every corner of the country. Plum trees are a characteristic plant of the Northwest, which is home to many varieties of plum. If nature has blessed the cherry blossom trees with bright pink flowers, the plum trees have been gifted with pure white, innocent blossoms. Plum blossoms have woven the spring tapestry, bringing freshness to the hearts of many people. I also consider myself lucky to have experienced the untouched beauty of many wild flowers. In the magical afternoon light, blooming right at the foot of the distant mountain, the peach and plum flowers shine. Sometimes, I long for the spring of the Northwest, especially when I vaguely hear the distant call of a bird from the forest, echoing in my memory. The rolling hills of Moc Chau today look even more radiant under the glowing blanket of plum blossoms. Only the white plum blossoms remain pure and full of nostalgia, scattered into the depths of my memories, blooming every spring. The dream of these white plum blossoms, from some distant day, still feels real yet surreal. It is when my feet touch a plum orchard, blossoming in the springtime on the mountainside. I feel a deep longing for my hometown in Lao Cai, and I miss the lands of Sa Pa, Bac Ha, Bao Thang... These places, where plum blossoms decorate the spring landscape with vibrant beauty. These flowers keep the spirit of the Northwest alive, drawing those who have left to quickly return home during Tet. The flowers bloom as the years go by. The path that leads me back to my roots is always beautiful and pure, like walking under the canopy of white plum blossoms whenever spring arrives. That is the path that every person, when they leave, will eventually wish to return, to be closer to their homeland and their loved ones. This dream, so sacred and pure, is nourished by memories that have been planted deep, overflowing with nostalgia. No matter the circumstances, this dream of flowers will always guide me back to the orchard of my distant childhood. There, in those dreams, my soul is nourished, even when shrouded in cold mist and harsh winds. There, the white plum blossoms bloom, full of hope, no matter how fierce the storm. PHAM THI PHUONG THAO

The Northwest always carries a serene beauty within. Each season here brings new experiences, connecting us with both nature and the people. Perhaps the most special thing about the Northwest is the peace it offers.

Sometimes, peace comes from simple moments, like the cold weather, when we sit leisurely on the porch and breathe in the fresh air of the trees, mist, and earth. Each breath feels like a gentle melody of life, and we can sense the tranquility surrounding us.

But peace doesn't only come from such moments. It also arises from the natural beauty of the land, where each gust of wind brings with it vivid scenes of blooming flowers. Whether it's the golden rice fields of the Northwest in autumn or the white buckwheat flower hills on the highlands, the beauty is striking.

The people who live in the Northwest are also a part of this peace. They live simply, happily embracing the everyday moments of life. As you pass by a small village, you can feel the warmth and sincerity of the locals. People come and go, as is the way of life, nothing strange or out of place.

The Northwest is not a place that's isolated or detached from the world. Yet, it retains the beautiful values of both its people and nature. The peace of the Northwest awakens a sense of contentment and calm in one's soul—something that is hard to find anywhere else in the world. In the Northwest, we can experience a peaceful existence amid the rush of modern life. Here, we can enjoy the captivating beauty of nature while living simply and authentically.

The Northwest is full of vibrant colors and diverse cultures, where traditions and customs are preserved and passed down through generations. This reflects the unity and love between the people, as well as their respect for and protection of the nation's cultural heritage. The Northwest is also home to those who care for and protect the environment, preserving the biodiversity and scenic beauty of the country. The pristine forests, clean rivers, and winding mountain roads are all preserved and sustainably developed. This demonstrates the local people's responsibility and concern for their surrounding environment.

All of this makes the Northwest one of Vietnam's most attractive destinations, drawing visitors from around the world to experience and explore. Once you've set foot here, the peace and beauty of the Northwest will leave a lasting impression, becoming an unforgettable memory in your life.

In today's world, where everything is happening too fast and we live in haste, sometimes we need to seek the peaceful and simple aspects of life. And the Northwest is one of the best places to find this. Every trip to the Northwest brings unforgettable experiences, deep emotions, and most importantly, a renewed belief and hope in humanity and nature. On the winding roads of the Northwest, you can see the unity and love between the locals. The pictures of golden rice fields, colorful flower gardens, and beautiful traditional stilt houses all provide a sense of peace and the beauty of life.

The Northwest is also where we can feel the vibrancy of ethnic cultures. The cultures of the Mong, Dao, H'mong, and many other groups have created a rich and diverse cultural tapestry. Here, we can participate in festivals, traditional customs, and enjoy unique folk arts.

However, the Northwest also faces challenges in protecting and developing its cultural and natural values. That’s why it’s our responsibility to protect and preserve these values for future generations.

Looking back on our journey, we realize that the Northwest is not just a wonderful travel destination, but a lesson about life and love. It shows us human kindness, the love of nature, and self-love. The Northwest has helped us embrace and love ourselves more, while also teaching us the importance of unity and love.

This is the special and precious nature of the Northwest—where serene beauty and love coexist. Therefore, let us always cherish and preserve these values, so that the Northwest remains an amazing destination and an inspiration for our hearts. Finally, let the experiences and emotions from the Northwest inspire us in our lives, encouraging us to live and love life just as beautifully as the days spent in the Northwest.

Giang Pham