Vietnam II

After the passport debacle, we made it onto the plane and safely landed in Phu Quoc.  Flying in over the island was completely surreal – like seeing something out of a movie.  The beaches were white, the water was clear and blue, and I could not have been more excited.  The place we were staying, Freedomland, had arranged for a driver to pick us up from the airport (again, because of rampant scamming of tourists), but I wasn’t sure if they had received my panicky and very last minute email letting them know we would be arriving on a later flight.

Fortunately, we landed and a very nice Vietnamese guy had a sign with our names on it right as we exited the gate.  It was really nice to not have to worry about that detail.  As we drove through Duong Dong town (the largest city on Phu Quoc), the reality of what life is like for probably the vast majority of Vietnamese people dawned on me.  They live quite poorly.  Along one stretch of road, there were lots of shops in a row, many with trash heaped outside their entrances, the boundary between dirt outside and tile inside blurred over time, and so many people, including tons of kids. I would later learn from the owner of our hotel that many kids on Phu Quoc don’t go to school at all, and that many that do don’t even finish middle school.  He told me that when he hires new staff, he almost always has to train them how to think, because for most of them, education is something that just wasn’t achievable. 

We took a turn at one point onto a dirt road (I’d later learn that 99% of the roads on Phu Quoc are like this) and bumped along for at least 15 minutes past people on motorbikes, bicycles, and on foot.  The red clay stuck to absolutely everything, and as we were there on the tail end of the rainy season, everything was still fairly muddy.  We emerged onto a two-lane road, only to turn down another nondescript dirt/rock/mud road about a mile later.  At one point, our taxi simply stopped in front of a random house in the middle of a jungle.  And he rolled down the windows and waited.  A couple of little kids in the house came out and stared at us curiously, barraging the driver with questions.  He kept gesturing at us, so I assume the questions had something to do with us.  This is when I wish I spoke some Vietnamese. But, at the end of the day, a smile is the shortest distance between two people, so I did that.

  A few minutes later, a couple of girls came walking up, hefted Lillian’s suitcase from the trunk and led us down another dirt road.  I was seriously worried at this point that we’d been led into some random jungle, only to have our story turn into something that would be featured on some travel safety PSA years down the road, but just as true panic was setting in, we saw the Freedomland sign.  And I knew all was good.  We were greeted by Peter and Rita, the owner/operators, shown around and led to our bungalow. 

I can say that I have never been super tolerant of bugs and being hot, so I was slightly concerned about how this experience would be considering 1) there was no air conditioning, and 2) the “bungalow” was open air in places letting in just about anything that wanted to come in.  A mosquito net was provided, so sleeping would at least not be a problem.  (And I can say after being there that it was not a problem at all). We settled in and decided to visit the local beach.  Fortunately, they had bikes that we could borrow, and we did, bumping up another clay road to a freshly paved road that seemed to lead nowhere.  It was one of the more amazing beaches I’ve been to in recent times, and we soaked it in (literally.)  

 That evening, we attended one of Freedomland’s famous community dinners where we were served a 5-course meal.  It was absolutely incredible.  We got to know Peter and Rita better, and apparently, Peter, who is Vietnamese, has always loved to cook and has learned lots of different techniques from living all over the world.  The food was on par with some of the nicest restaurants I have ever been to, and the dishes were all prepared in a quite rudimentary kitchen with only two burners.  Dish after dish blew me away. 

 

The next day, Peter arranged a taxi to drive us around the island for 8 hours for just about $40 USD.  It was a total steal, and we got to see so much more of the island than we ever would have on our own.  We visited the “market” which was basically just a crowded, polluted wet market by the river.  It was nothing really spectacular, and we decided to leave about 4 minutes after arriving.  As we headed back across the river to our waiting taxi, we discovered that a barge with part of the road on it had been swung parallel with the shore on the other side.  We were stuck.  As we stood there waiting, I had a chance to observe the boats going by, and the crowd that gathered (mostly on motorbikes) to await the barge’s return.  To our left was a parked boat with a guy scooping water out of a large storage tank on deck “showering”.  There was a little boy in a soccer jersey very proudly working with his family to move the gate that held back traffic, and anxiously waiting the opportunity to contribute when it came time to move the gate again.  There was an old lady with a sad look in her eyes selling produce to the right.  And behind us was an ever-growing mass of people on motorbikes. 


 

We eventually did cross and made our way back to the taxi.  From there we visited a waterfall, took about another hour ride on dirt roads through the middle of the island to the Southern part of the island where we reached a beach that was supposed to be awesome, but had unfortunately choppy water.  We ate lunch there and decided to try our luck at another beach.

Piling back into the cab, we drove on yet another set of dirt roads to a pearl farm where Lillian did enough shopping to gift every one of her relatives a beautiful pearl of some sort.  I bought nothing, instead talked to the owner and heard his pretty racist views on Vietnamese people and tourists.   Always a new adventure! We asked our driver to take us to Long Beach, but instead he drove us to the Long Beach Resort.  We walked through the resort like we belonged there, bought a drink at the bar, and staked out a spot under one of the cabanas.  At one point I thought we were totally busted when a security guard came 

up to us and said, “Long Beach”?  At which point I nodded.  He then radioed something, and a few minutes later, towels were brought out to us.  Phew.  I’m by nature a rule follower so I was a little stressed about being there and most certainly not being a guest!  We spent the rest of our lazy afternoon there, and arrived back at Freedomland just in time to hike to another beach for a barbeque provided by Peter and his crew.  We arrived just as the sun was setting, and it was fabulous.

 

 On our last day, we revisited the beach from the first day, laid out in the sun, had a great lunch on their deck, and just enjoyed ourselves.  That evening we had yet another spectacular dinner made by Peter and his crew.  On our last morning there, Lillian and I both had a massage by one of Peter’s staff members who they sent to massage school so they could offer it to their guests.  It was the perfect way to finish up our trip. 

I am glad I visited Vietnam for a number of reasons – as my boss’s wife so wisely said before I left, “It is always good to go away, because when you come back, Hong Kong really feels like home”.  And she was so right.  It was fantastic to come back to HK through the “residents” line, get on straightforward public transportation with signs in English, and to observe the ordered nature of my life here.

It was also good because I got a much better view of the “real Asia”.  Prior to moving to Hong Kong, I had never been anywhere in Asia.  So, of course, Hong Kong felt very Asian indeed.  But in reality, Hong Kong, especially where I live, is way more Western than Asian. It was great to be able to compare and contrast, and to realize that the things that drive me insane about Hong Kong are actually quite efficient and organized when compared to the rest of Asia.  This is what is great about traveling - hopefully, it helps you adjust your worldview and teaches you things that you never would have known.  Vietnam certainly did this for me.  I can't wait to see more of this beautiful region I now call home.

Til next time,

The Adventurer

(ps, living above a strip club is very entertaining.  For example, I could host a dance party in my living room and not even need a sub because I can hear the bass from the club.  8 stories up!)