I clung to the back of the moped as the tiny Vietnamese lady threw it over ruts in the road. She was about half my size and I thought if I held on to her she might topple off. Theo was back at the tourist office about a mile ot two back and I was, well, panicking slightly.
After establishing that the guesthouse she had been planning to take me to was full the lady drove me round in circles down empty roads, stopping to ask people on corners if they knew of anywhere I could stay. Eventually after being left standing by the bike a few times, watching stray dogs come and go, we found a family with a couple of basic rooms. After a very confusing conversation about how far away the beach was (how do you mime how far?) I took it and sat on the patio to wait for Theo, watching the family’s little girl cycle around on her pink bike. I was pretty sure in a few short years she’d be on a moped as well, she tipped the bike over a couple of times, it wasn’t very reassuring.
We had arrived at Phu Quoc only an hour or so earlier. The short flight from Saigon had been bumpy and I had sat in my seat groaning while a gang of small children in the seats in front screamed in delight and put their hands in the air. When we landed we walked straight through the airport before we ever noticed we’d gone into it and hopped into a waiting cab.
Sun, sea, sand and for goodness sake there’s another enormous spider
Phu Quoc is a moderately large island belonging to Vietnam but actually off the coast of Cambodia. It’s main town Duong Dong is pretty small, our taxi zipped past shops and cafes and over a small bridge from which we could see the port filled with fishing boats. All along the road ladies sold mussels and squid and crab from massive plastic tubs.
The whole area here is essentially given over to tourists, but outside the town, down on Long Beach, the deserted roads give way to a genuine paradise. Restaurants, shops and internet cafes littler the lanes while he beach is lined with more restaurants and massage places with sun loungers and umbrellas.
We would do the 100 yard stroll from our room to the beach in the morning and have breakfast and lie in the sun or stroll along Long Beach (aptly named, we walked to the rocky headline and it stretched before us for miles) between lunch and dinner. Occasionally we would visit a restaurant in the lanes for a change but mostly we spent our days barefoot and semi-dressed on the shore.
We wandered around wooden decked bars playing pool in swimming stuff and tatty shirts, a beer cooler never far from reach. When it got hot we swam, although the sea was quite rough and seemed to be full of an odd jellyish substance that stuck to you and got in your clothes.
The temperature barely changes and you could stay comfortably on the beach as the sun went down. Eating diner on the beach with out chairs sinking into the sand you can see the foam on the shore in the lights of the restaurant then nothing but black until the dotted lamps of the squid fishing vessels far out to sea. In the pitch black we had to stumble around the lanes with a torch dodging the multitude of dogs as we made our way back to our room.
Our peace and quite was broken only by the large number of giant spiders residing on Phu Quoc, which is mostly forest, and the somewhat holey nature of our accommodation. The worst spider experience of our whole trip saw me hiding in the bathroom as Theo attempted to flatten the biggest spider I have ever seen with a flipflop. The plan back fired somewhat when he missed and the spider fled straight under the bathroom door. The people in the room next door must have thought I was being murdered.
A hard road to paradise
For a change of scenery we decided to spend one day renting a moped (given how well it went last time, sorry parents) and driving over to the other side of the island. We were told it wasn’t too far and we set off hopefully. After a few hundred yards or tarmac however, the roads gave way to dirt and stayed that way for the whole journey. The lady in the moped place told us that the road has been under construction for more than two years, and the certainly haven’t got very far with it. What that means as well is that at one point you have to drive through a construction site, balancing the wheels of the bike on fragile banks of dried mud and precarious wooden bridges.
The road hugs the coastline and with Long Beach tapering to the end the sea is almost beside the road. Not that we saw much of it as we tried to navigate the potholes. In places we had to slow down to a few miles an hour just to get through. After stopping to get petrol and asking for directions by shouting ‘Sao’ and using sign language we arrived as the beach, orange from the dust of the road. It was packed with Vietnamese tourists and we had to snake our way through endless tables and stalls with tanks of live seafood before we found the shoreline. The beach was incredible. It looked as though it was taken straight out of a holiday brochure. White sands stretched down to the clear, tranquil sea and craggy peaks topped with trees enclosed the quiet bay. We swam and relaxed on loungers and Theo played on a giant inflatable obstacle course tethered in the bay. As the evening drew in we watched the locals catching star fish before heading back.
A town built on fish
We spent our last day and night on Phu Quoc in Duong Dong to be closer to the airport and to see what the centre had to offer. The answer was not a lot. Down on the shore front the beach is dirtier than the bit the tourists see and a strange half lighthouse, half temple sits atop the rocks. We walked around the town for a bit and went over a terrifying rickety bridge over the river, wooden planks bouncing up and down under the motorbikes. The market on the other side was heaving with bikes all puling in at stalls and weaving around each other. People sold vast vats of seafood; crabs and scallops and squid. One lady had a whole cart of live chickens and ducks. Dried fish lay on racks in the sun. Along the river front long thin sheds seemed to act as houses, the back dropping straight into the river, the front open with wares laid out in shallow baskets. Later the night market was just as crazy, endless stalls selling all manner of seafood that they would fry up for you on a barbecue. There were shiney squid draped over the edge of the stalls watching you with bulbous eyes, shellfish of all varieties, huge sea snails and large, glistening vacant-eyed fish. Locals sat out on plastic stools watching a Chelsea v Man City football match on a huge projector screen.
We took the opportunity of trying the local legendary fish sauce (although we sadly didn’t find the time to visit the fish sauce factory) and discovered, to our amazement, that it was absolutely delicious. Phu Quoc certainly knows how to do seafood. We resisted taking any home, blanching at the thought of a bottle of fish sauce breaking in our bags, and reluctantly made our way back to the airport.
Emma Pocklington 