#22 - Hammocks and hairy bridges

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Phu Quoc Island, 19-21 Feb 2008
Here is a place where we really feel on holidays. Everything seems a million miles away and there’s nothing here but zen. We’ve heard this place compared to Phuket 20 years ago, and it’s difficult to see it any other way. Writing this, I feel caught in a dilemma, because I want to write so many good things about it, but I feel that the less the world knows about it the better. But that would be selfish. Certainly, it is the sort of place that I’d love to come back to again, when next I feel like a cheap beach holiday.
Maybe we were lucky to arrive after the crowds have moved on, but we felt like we had it more or less to ourselves. Roughly the size of Phuket, where we spent Christmas (almost 2 months ago, I can’t believe it!), the place is largely rural with fishing the main industry. Compared to Kangaroo Island (for those at home) it’s about a third the size with 20 times the population. But it is anything but crowded. Avoiding the most hyped beach, Bai Soi, we spend two days exploring the entire northern half on a scooter, traversing dusty red dirt roads and some hairy makeshift bridges. The best thing is that, although the island seems made for tourism, you get the feeling that people are happy with sticking to their traditional way of life. We were never hassled or harassed, as has been common in the popular parts of Vietnam, and we got a fair price every time.
Most of the Western coastline is one beach, and watching the sun set from it was a real treat. The easterly breeze kept it cool and glassy, while the sun gave us more than enough reason to enjoy a few dips, after dining at some excellent beach restaurants.
The real highlight was exploring some of the lesser known, less accessible beaches by moto. Following part instinct, part luck, we came across a gorgeous white sandy beach at the end of a sand track, deserted of foreigners and home to a quaint fishing village. I had to ask Julie if I was dreaming. The villagers had just finished lunch and were either belly up in a hammock slung between palm trees (no kidding), fixing fishing nets or enjoying a game of cards in the shade. It was hard to describe their reaction to two white people strolling through their village wide-eyed. It was something between surprise at having been discovered, curiosity at who we were hostile suspicion as to whether more will follow. I doubt it even occurred to them that they could make money from us with a bowl of noodles or something, and we had to say goodbye and find a larger town to get something to eat. Good for them, I think now, looking back. I wouldn’t want to share that slice of paradise with anyone either.
I hope they never improve the roads and tracks.

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