Phan Thiet
The first exhausting day in Saigon was wonderful but, well, exhausting. I had a trip planned with Maggie and Boyle to go south a little further to a place called Phan Thiet, about which I knew nothing except it was on a beach. That's pretty much it. So, since Shipboard activities had already taken my money for the trip, I decided to go ahead and claim my place on the bus, and see what this place called Phan Theit was like. Our four hour bus ride was another journey, a window journey. I saw so much. The city, the outskirts, the country... strange and beautiful places, hollows and gutters, fields and ghettos. Bicycles over old stone bridges sheltered fleets of brightly painted fishing boats. Squatting women over weathered blue tarps dried jackfruit in the sun; boys and dogs a rag tag soccer team in a bumpy field. Schoolgirls in the city, their white uniforms floating like silk in the exhaust from our intruding bus. Rice patties, like you would expect... people like you wouldn't.
Stepping off the stuffy bus into the shoreline breeze, I could hear the palms rattling their coconuts in conversation. The welcome foyer offered quenching water and an open breezeway, a tunnel of flowering plumeria leading to the beginnings of a corner of a paradisiacal place. It was exquisite. Pineapple and mango, white sand, story birds, a quiet swing. My beach towel and a still, still pool. A pina colada made with a coconut from the tree beside the bar. My journal and a good pen, and two hours to myself in a lovely place. Three days with all the time in the world to forget about everything except for the hushed murmuring of a secret in a shady place, a tranquil beauty that captivates and silences. A sorrow, a song, a glimpse at death, a ride on the wind.
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Phan Thiet Hotels
