Peace Season in Moc Chau Plateau
This land looks beautiful everywhere. The age-old tea gardens there, though green in spring or bare in winter, branches still eerily charming.
I have ever been to Moc Chau (Son La) do not know how many times, but every time seems most obvious sense: in order to get a bit of peace after the months days rush.
I do not like cars on this land, that I like drive on the old motorbike, slowly crawling into the valley. Like the feeling of cold air rushing back side burning, numb hands and quickly wrap scarf round the neck warm again.
Moc Chau always is colder than other place. Overcome Thung Khe Pass to the Son La land, the cold has always surrounded self. Blue sky on short breaks, sunshine yellow as honey and sprinkled on the road ahead ders swathes bloom.
In the female flowers white the hillsides, native sound thrones sleepy and incessantly buzzing bees, the port offers full wild sunflowers blooming brilliant orange, warm themselves in the sun. There, the white flower blooming plum sky, the sound of children playing noisily under the plum tree compatible mold, moss.
There, tea hills hugging cicle the plateau land, the steep red dirt road hun smoking, has a lush green splendor of the hills around the high tea and low tea fragrant aroma throughout the highlands. There, after the crab ders sleeve running from the hill to the other valley, the landscape constantly on rotation, each turning to a different beauty. 
I do not like cars on this land, that I like drive on the old motorbike, slowly crawling into the valley. Like the feeling of cold air rushing back side burning, numb hands and quickly wrap scarf round the neck warm again.
Moc Chau always is colder than other place. Overcome Thung Khe Pass to the Son La land, the cold has always surrounded self. Blue sky on short breaks, sunshine yellow as honey and sprinkled on the road ahead ders swathes bloom.
In the female flowers white the hillsides, native sound thrones sleepy and incessantly buzzing bees, the port offers full wild sunflowers blooming brilliant orange, warm themselves in the sun. There, the white flower blooming plum sky, the sound of children playing noisily under the plum tree compatible mold, moss.
There, tea hills hugging cicle the plateau land, the steep red dirt road hun smoking, has a lush green splendor of the hills around the high tea and low tea fragrant aroma throughout the highlands. There, after the crab ders sleeve running from the hill to the other valley, the landscape constantly on rotation, each turning to a different beauty.
The lovely ethnic girls
I can sit for hours watching the peace was not bored. When the dawn and the dew still glistening on the branches standing, everything is still in a sleepy state, ambiguous. Floods was grasshoppers in the grass stepped woke revenue jumped radiation disturbances.
The air limpid and cool. Between the lush tea gardens, hills leisurely sit down, sip afternoon tea a sweet mouth, gentle sunrise distance. Sometimes, I wander aimlessly in the fields of flowers blooming weeds, chasing the moment came to the heaven, the earth, of nature.
After the rush of daily life, I always dreamed of this place each-way stop, into the night listening to the valley, the sound of gentle sunset, a day gradually. My peaceful place in darkness, slow, bland and quiet.
The air limpid and cool. Between the lush tea gardens, hills leisurely sit down, sip afternoon tea a sweet mouth, gentle sunrise distance. Sometimes, I wander aimlessly in the fields of flowers blooming weeds, chasing the moment came to the heaven, the earth, of nature.
After the rush of daily life, I always dreamed of this place each-way stop, into the night listening to the valley, the sound of gentle sunset, a day gradually. My peaceful place in darkness, slow, bland and quiet.
The floating flower beds
Autumn, I was about to Moc Chau, to my heart calm, to not be bored wandering between limpid nature and warm smile soul behind.
Source: Collection
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