OK, I know even though I’m on a desert island, it’s not quite the same as the TV programme. But today, despite being in a mini van with a driver and a guide, we were lost! I can only assume that they don’t do the tour of the North part of the island very often. It started fine, a 20 kms drive through the dense forest where the guide informed me there were many, many snakes, monkeys and wild boar. To his next question, did I want to get out and walk in the forest, he got the predictable answer – no!
Then on to a remote fishing village in a beautiful bay – more ramshackle boats and a plate of raw seafood on display in the searing heat – did I want to eat – yet another predictable answer – no!
The whole of the North is a verdant green mountainous interior, fringed by mile after mile of deserted white beach. We drive along stopping every so often for a paddle and a photo – but the good news is that this guide is not a David Bailey – so no pics of me! We pass the mangrove forest and the roads get worse (we left behind tarmac roads in Duong Dong – we had been on dirt tracks for the rest of the time). But then the roads got even worse – we arrive at a “junction” and no road signs here. My sense of direction said turn right – their’s obviously said turn left which we did. My Vietnamese still isn’t good, but it’s surprising what you can understand by tone of voice. The guide’s tone of voice was saying “what the hell is going on, have you any idea of where we are” and the driver‘s was saying “no, I haven’t a clue but if we keep going confidently on, the old bird in the back may not notice….”. We reach a river down a track with no way to cross it, so we carry on in completely the wrong direction, back into the forest. I had visions of the Mekong again, sleeping in a mini van this time rather than a boat. Both my escorts were looking a little worried – there was no other traffic and apart from a few pepper plantations, no other life to be seen. But suddenly (a few seconds after I had realised that we were back the road we had already covered on the way out), the guide triumphantly pointed to the map – they knew where we were…. But we had seen the wider, north part of the island. Due to the forest, there is very little population here, in fact 90% lives in and around Duong Dong, the small capital. We had stopped at another beautiful crescent bay which was the home of a tiny fishing village, and the land we could see five kilometres away was Cambodia. Very close, but no border crossing, to get to Cambodia (legally, that is) you have to go back to the Vietnamese mainland. The boats gathered in the bay, along with a few floating houses all looked very ramshackle.
I’m still amazed at the amount of white beach surrounding this island where up to now, only a few kilometres have any sign of tourist life. The beaches of the long east coast are apparently equally beautiful, but there’s no access, not because of tall cliffs, just that there is no road! The roads (well tracks really, the only roads that we would recognise as such are around Duong Dong) were all laid by the Americans when they were here, and no more have been built since.
We make a stop at the town market – a bustling place full of colourful fruit and veg, some dodgy clothes stalls, some material stalls selling fabric by the metre – but it all seemed to be the stretchy, highly patterned bri-nylon that the pyjama type outfits the women wear are made of. There is no sign of the traditional ao dai here apart from the school uniforms. As usual, I walk rapidly through the fly blown meat section hoping not to see any dog, and find myself in the fish section – just as gory. Huge fish are being filleted and I discover the sound of banging is a young woman who is bashing a huge fish on the head with a mallet. There are fish of every description and size, squid everywhere and even a sad looking pile of baby shark – it seems the waters are plentiful here. I had been to the night market the evening before – this day market was a lot more colourful. The night market was a string of small fish restaurant stalls and a couple of shoe stalls. The only tourist tat was a stall selling plastic shells and plastic lobsters that light up…. I see a marketing opportunity here!
The sun had been shining all day, but it did feel especially hot and humid in the early evening. Just after it got dark I thought there were a few people taking flash pictures on the beach, but that was a precursor to a monumental storm that broke just I had ordered dinner in the semi open air beach restaurant. Suddenly it was all hands on deck as my table was moved to the centre under cover where I had to wait for the torrential rain to stop before I could get my food. The food is all prepared in the main restaurant (a soulless place reminiscent of a Communist era dining room) and then walked down the 100 metres or so to the beach. But luckily the restaurant did have its supply of the local Dalat wine, so I was happy!
My meal eventually arrived and as usual, I was the only person in the restaurant. It’s an odd place, it seems full, there are lights on in most of the bungalows, but you never really see anyone, even the beach in the day is mostly deserted. Perhaps the island is like the one in “Lost” – and has a sinister presence is lurking somewhere keeping people hidden away……
Then on to a remote fishing village in a beautiful bay – more ramshackle boats and a plate of raw seafood on display in the searing heat – did I want to eat – yet another predictable answer – no!
The whole of the North is a verdant green mountainous interior, fringed by mile after mile of deserted white beach. We drive along stopping every so often for a paddle and a photo – but the good news is that this guide is not a David Bailey – so no pics of me! We pass the mangrove forest and the roads get worse (we left behind tarmac roads in Duong Dong – we had been on dirt tracks for the rest of the time). But then the roads got even worse – we arrive at a “junction” and no road signs here. My sense of direction said turn right – their’s obviously said turn left which we did. My Vietnamese still isn’t good, but it’s surprising what you can understand by tone of voice. The guide’s tone of voice was saying “what the hell is going on, have you any idea of where we are” and the driver‘s was saying “no, I haven’t a clue but if we keep going confidently on, the old bird in the back may not notice….”. We reach a river down a track with no way to cross it, so we carry on in completely the wrong direction, back into the forest. I had visions of the Mekong again, sleeping in a mini van this time rather than a boat. Both my escorts were looking a little worried – there was no other traffic and apart from a few pepper plantations, no other life to be seen. But suddenly (a few seconds after I had realised that we were back the road we had already covered on the way out), the guide triumphantly pointed to the map – they knew where we were…. But we had seen the wider, north part of the island. Due to the forest, there is very little population here, in fact 90% lives in and around Duong Dong, the small capital. We had stopped at another beautiful crescent bay which was the home of a tiny fishing village, and the land we could see five kilometres away was Cambodia. Very close, but no border crossing, to get to Cambodia (legally, that is) you have to go back to the Vietnamese mainland. The boats gathered in the bay, along with a few floating houses all looked very ramshackle.
I’m still amazed at the amount of white beach surrounding this island where up to now, only a few kilometres have any sign of tourist life. The beaches of the long east coast are apparently equally beautiful, but there’s no access, not because of tall cliffs, just that there is no road! The roads (well tracks really, the only roads that we would recognise as such are around Duong Dong) were all laid by the Americans when they were here, and no more have been built since.
We make a stop at the town market – a bustling place full of colourful fruit and veg, some dodgy clothes stalls, some material stalls selling fabric by the metre – but it all seemed to be the stretchy, highly patterned bri-nylon that the pyjama type outfits the women wear are made of. There is no sign of the traditional ao dai here apart from the school uniforms. As usual, I walk rapidly through the fly blown meat section hoping not to see any dog, and find myself in the fish section – just as gory. Huge fish are being filleted and I discover the sound of banging is a young woman who is bashing a huge fish on the head with a mallet. There are fish of every description and size, squid everywhere and even a sad looking pile of baby shark – it seems the waters are plentiful here. I had been to the night market the evening before – this day market was a lot more colourful. The night market was a string of small fish restaurant stalls and a couple of shoe stalls. The only tourist tat was a stall selling plastic shells and plastic lobsters that light up…. I see a marketing opportunity here!
The sun had been shining all day, but it did feel especially hot and humid in the early evening. Just after it got dark I thought there were a few people taking flash pictures on the beach, but that was a precursor to a monumental storm that broke just I had ordered dinner in the semi open air beach restaurant. Suddenly it was all hands on deck as my table was moved to the centre under cover where I had to wait for the torrential rain to stop before I could get my food. The food is all prepared in the main restaurant (a soulless place reminiscent of a Communist era dining room) and then walked down the 100 metres or so to the beach. But luckily the restaurant did have its supply of the local Dalat wine, so I was happy!
My meal eventually arrived and as usual, I was the only person in the restaurant. It’s an odd place, it seems full, there are lights on in most of the bungalows, but you never really see anyone, even the beach in the day is mostly deserted. Perhaps the island is like the one in “Lost” – and has a sinister presence is lurking somewhere keeping people hidden away……
