The beach is that way

The central province of Quang Binh is home to some of Vietnam’s most enchanting coastal areas with a string of beautiful beaches that could also help reverse the province’s economic fortunes

With the pace of development comes a price. Popular beach destinations become too crowded, too built up, too much of a hassle. For those who like to flop around on a quiet beach and forget about the world, the most popular ‘holiday’ beaches become contradictions. Who can feel relaxed on a public holiday if you’re surrounded by thousands of screaming kids and perpetually hassled by vendors? Inevitably, you move on. You seek new horizons far from the madding crowds.

For now, my tip is Quang Binh province in the ‘north’ of Central Vietnam. South of Ha Tinh and bordering Laos, this is one of the country’s poorest provinces. The average annual per capita income is one of the lowest in Vietnam. But the province’s tourism industry might be the main key to boosting the local economy. The UNESCO heritage site of Phong Nha- Ke Bang cave has flown the flag so far.

Now the province is looking to the white sandy beaches with a great deal of justifiable expectation. The bewitching sight of Nhat Le would certainly convince any developer that this is a stretch of coast worth banking on. But for now, I am also delighted to bask in the peace and tranquility that remains on offer before the bulldozers and master builders roll in. It’s a breathtaking spot and in my humblest opinion one of the country’s most beautiful beaches. Inspired by the prospect of discovering more unknown beaches, I recently decided to explore more of the coast by motorbike. And there is plenty to discover.

In Quang Trach district, I came across Quang Phu beach, which is popular with locals but yet to be tapped by the tourism moguls. It’s only five or 10 minutes drive from Nhat Le beach and utterly pristine. The water is refreshingly clear. As you swim around, you can see scallops beneath your feet. It’s a wonderful spot to spend a morning or afternoon lolling around in the sunshine, happily contemplating life.

Further along the coast, you will find Hai Ninh beach and fishing village. The views around are wonderful with imposing mountains to the west and a deep blue sea to the east. After arriving in the late afternoon, I decided to stay until sunset – yes, I’m an old romantic at heart.

The next morning I headed for Dong Hoi market to enjoy the bustling atmosphere. The fishermen, traders and customers convene over the catch of the day. The market might be the only hectic spot you will come across on the coastline.

There are already some resorts taking advantage of Quang Binh’s stunning shores and sweeping sea views. The Sun Spa Resort is leading the pack. Set on a picturesque peninsular the resort boasts 234 international standard rooms. The overall design is wonderfully harmonious and tranquil with fern-trunk thatching, private tropical gardens overlooking the ocean, private swimming pools and spacious, elegantly designed rooms.

Sun Spa Resort is the perfect gateway to discover the World Natural Heritage Site of Phong Nha – Ke Bang Reserve – though the resort is a natural wonder in its own right, set amidst a spacious 29 hectares of landscaped garden alongside the pristine white sands of Bao Ninh beach.

Further up the coast, there may be more to come. Development plans have been made for Da Nhay beach, another wonderful spot, 40km north of Dong Hoi. In Vietnamese ‘da nhay’ means ‘the rocks that jump’. As you might guess by that name, this is a rugged, rocky spot but there are also sandy coves for bathing on.

You can find more modest accommodation than the Sun Spa Resort with rooms available in family-run hotels for VND150,000 to VND200,00. Either way searching the coast for quiet spots to have a dip in the sea is a wonderful way to spend a couple of days (rather than being dragged around by a tour guide). Everywhere in Quang Binh people are hospitable, helpful and happy to share the incredible natural scenery with people from out of town. I guess they want the word to spread.

The Battle for Hue

Nguyen Pham Thien Huy seems a most unlikely conservationist. A cocky 25-year-old who favors faded jeans and tight T-shirts, he spent six months in prison a few years back for admitted "bar brawling."

Nguyen Pham Thien Huy in one of his workshops

Tom That Loi in his nha ruong, built by his father

Tom That Loi's place as seen from the lily pond

Ngoc Son, formerly a retreat for a princess and now a home for a historian, was restored with funding from the French senate.

The gateway to the traditional nha ruong An Hien, in the Kim Long district

Inside An Hien

Ton That Sa, in his pajamas, bids welcome to his nha ruong.

But looking for a vocation after his release, he was hired by some friends to relocate and restore a complex of traditional wooden ancestral halls, called nha ruong, that had belonged to a wife of a 19th-century emperor. It launched a lucrative contracting career.
Today Mr. Huy has four workshops and a staff of other ex-convicts—rehabilitation through renovation—mentored by a few elder craftsmen ("still easy to find," he says). He has become a local television personality pitching "a younger generation's appreciation for our city's beautiful legacy," though these days he does more business creating reproductions of the old-style buildings than in fixing up the real things.

On numerous leafy side streets within sight of the Citadel—one of Vietnam's best-protected monuments, though still marked with bullet holes from the war with the U.S.—rusted gates and crumbling balustrades mask lesser-known architectural trademarks of this former royal capital: the handmade, nail-less one-room nha ruong and nha vuon, elegantly landscaped garden houses built for the elite of Vietnam's Nguyen Dynasty (1802-1945). They reflect what Nguyen Xuan Hoa, director of the biennial Hue Festival, calls "a refined style of life that is the essence of Hue."

But there's not even agreement on how many remain, though all counts point to the same trend: the rapid dwindling of a once-ample heritage. When World War II broke out, there may have been as many as 20,000 nha ruong in Hue, says Nguyen Huu Thong, author of a new study of the city's architecture. As few as several hundred survive.

Most of the world remembers Hue, a city of 330,000 on the banks of the Perfume River, as site of the Vietnam War's fiercest battle, in which U.S. troops unleashed their firepower on the Vietcong who seized its ancient battlements during the 1968 Tet Offensive. Now the remaining symbols of peaceful, contemplative life in the country's cultural capital face a fresh threat: development.

Today, a traditional Hue home is likely to turn up as a transplant in Ho Chi Minh City or Hanoi, serving as a restaurant or nightclub in front of a more modern structure, or as rooftop gazebo atop one. (The first ones that Mr. Huy restored were for gift shops, though they came from the outskirts of Hue into the city.) While this does keep the historical buildings intact, Hue officials don't consider it an ideal solution. Where other places in Asia worry about a "brain drain," they speak of a phenomenon that translates roughly as a "house drain."

Under sloping tile roofs (the tiles now often loose), the interiors of the nha ruong are divided by rows of sturdy jackfruit-wood columns and intricately carved braces that demarcate symmetrical vestibules crammed with ancestral photos and altars.

But a look inside one shows dilapidation, with bare light bulbs and linoleum replacing lanterns and terra-cotta floors. The main resident, Le Chi Nghe, is a street-food vendor who hardly has funds for restoration, hasn't been informed of numerous foreign preservation projects and is too suspicious of the government to apply for its loans. Besides, as is often the case, the other owners are spread around the globe, part of Vietnam's postwar diaspora.

"It would bring shame on us to sell this place of our ancestors, but to agree how to repair it is too big a headache," he says. Despite the common belief that selling is a betrayal of ancestral spirits, owners are more tempted to do so: The value of an intact nha ruong has increased 100-fold over the past decade, according to experts, and the cost of repair is likewise rising.

And for those who actually live in them, selling can be a chance to move out of homes that seem more suited to altars and offerings than air-conditioning, plumbing or privacy.

"Vietnam is moving from country to city at a quicker pace than any other place on earth," says Paul Schuttenbelt of Urban Solutions, a Dutch nongovernmental organization advising the government's undermanned Hue Monuments Conservation Centre. Since Unesco declared the city's imperial monuments a World Heritage site in 1993, international aid has financed the clearing of some illegal buildings and care (however uneven and seemingly haphazard) for the Forbidden City and outlying royal tombs, but Mr. Schuttenbelt says much remains undone: "Hue's 60 protected historic sites have yet to be centrally mapped, and the next 15-year plan for conserving the city, along with limits on demolition of heritage, has been delayed and remain unapproved."

While development here isn't yet the boom it is in Ho Chi Minh City, Hanoi or nearby Danang, Hue nonetheless shows the strains of unchecked urbanization. By some estimates, land prices have tripled in the past several years. Crowded with 100,000 people, the confines of the imperial city walls have sprouted an unsightly hodgepodge of construction.

Across the river, French colonial villas are being bulldozed and tree-cloaked streets are being widened for shopping malls and office blocks, while luxury hotels are flouting height limits recommended to maintain the royal palace's original sight lines.

But no element of Hue's heritage is more vulnerable than the scattered and unsupervised nha ruong—which Mr. Hoa, the cultural festival's director, declares "no less important than the Citadel and the tombs," explaining that the style dates to the 16th century.

As for the nha vuon, often similar but set on plots measuring up to 2,400 square yards and studded with lotus ponds, herbal plantings and decorative barriers, they "are organs in the cultural body of Hue," says the head of the province's Department of Culture, Sports and Tourism, Phan Tien Dzung. "They are like a small version of the royal palace for each family, and they display a model of harmony between humans and the natural environment."

Vietnam's law dividing inheritance equally among heirs—enacted to uphold the rights of women—generally works against the interests of preservation. Some garden houses' large lots have been subdivided into tiny areas, often leading to the construction of new concrete houses beside the nha vuon. But the divided ownership can also work to preservationists' advantage, Mr. Schuttenbelt says: "The lack of consensus among many relatives has also helped keep many of these houses standing."

An ambitious Ford Foundation program launched a decade ago in conjunction with Hue Heritage House, an organization founded under Unesco's auspices, aimed to encourage preservation by providing repair manuals and "raising awareness of the homes' values," recounts program director Michael DiGregorio. But it foundered in the face of inheritance and subdivision issues and ran out of funding with barely a single structure saved.

More successful was a smaller-scale program that Hue's sister city of Lille, France, began the same year. It returned some 15 old Hue houses to pristine condition, walls repainted in original ocean blue, termites checked and foundations raised to cope with frequent floods. Plaques on them attest to the support of the "Sénat du France."

In return, residents merely had to pledge to refrain from selling the homes for a profit. They weren't required to open them to visitors, though many do. The most often displayed is Ngoc Son, a former retreat of a princess now inhabited in messily archive-crammed fashion by Hue's leading historian, Phan Thuan An.

In Kim Long, a green area just beyond the city walls that was the favored neighborhood of scholars and senior government officials, some of the city's biggest and best-preserved garden houses are readily open for view—for a "donation" of 50,000 dong ($2.60) to the aging residents. A quick survey reveals these were restored by owners themselves, too proud to relinquish the abodes of forebears and too wary of accepting public funds.

Tourism is a big part of the region's economy, and Hue's visitor numbers have slipped as those for Central Vietnam's other World Heritage site, the port of Hoi An—now a boutique-laden tourist zoo—have risen. With as many as 40 resorts planned along Danang's adjoining China Beach, Hue faces more challenges.

"World Heritage sites either adapt as living places or become tourist museums," says Urban Solutions head Mr. Schuttenbelt. His advice to Hue is to allow modern adaptations of its architecture while curbing overt commercialization, billboards and big hotels.

As for the Monuments Conservation Centre, its director, Phung Phu, has proposed expanding buffer zones meant to keep modern structures and signs from encroaching on monuments, tougher height limits and an effort to make Hue "a model eco city." He vows, "We must have new policies that meet the challenge of development." But no part of his next master plan has been approved.

More than any NGO or government initiative, the hope for Hue's old houses may lie with self-appointed saviors like the youthful Mr. Huy—who says he shares "a natural appreciation for gardens with all Hue people." (His mother fostered it by bringing him "architecture books for me to study while I was in prison.")

"It's ordinary people who are showing much greater care for these houses than five years ago," says the crusading ex-convict, adding, "there are not many left and we don't want the most precious part of our culture to vanish."

Tourists enjoy purity, pristine beauty of Quan Lan Beach

The pristine beauty of Quan Lan Beach has yet to be spoiled and is a mecca for tourists. The deep blue waters, strong waves and white sandy beaches span over several kilometres. Wild, green pines flank the beach, which adds charm to the pristine location.

Rockin': The beautiful landscape of Bai Tu Long Bay as seen from Quan Lan Island. — File Photos

All to yourself: Tourists are able to enjoy a pristine atmosphere that has yet to be overdeveloped at Quan Lan Beach.

The beach is on Quan Lan in Bai Tu Long Bay, which is 55km away from Ha Long City.

Stilted guest houses hide under the lush foliage of casuarinas. A brick-paved road leads tourists from their bungalows to Quan Lan Beach.

Among the network of inhabited islands, the beautiful isle of Quan Lan still remains largely unexplored. The undeveloped island and its gorgeous white sand beaches have been tagged by major investments that are aiming to expand its shaky tourist infrastructure.

The sand on Quan Lan Beach is stranger than the sand on other beaches I have visited. It's white, tiny, pure and smooth. The transparent water allows my eyes to gaze at the bottom of the sea where I can watch fish swim around colourful coral.

Visitors can stay in bungalows on the beach or with locals in a quiet village. In the future, tourists are bound to discover the gorgeous shores of this island paradise, and its unsullied beaches are likely not to stay isolated for too much longer.

Since the 11th century, Quan Lan had been a centre along the commercial route. In the 12th century, Quan Lan was the first trading port of Viet Nam built under Ly dynasty.

In 1149, King Ly Anh Tong took this place to set up Van Don town and Van Don trading port in order to speed up commercial relationships between Viet Nam and South East Asian countries. Relics of former trading port have been discovered with traces of ancient architecture, well, and grazed terra-cotta of meters thick to prove that this place used to be a crowded urban.

During the fifth and sixth lunar months, the area annually celebrates religious ceremonies to remember the area's former king, and residents also hold boat rowing festivals.

In 1288, the beach was also the site of the well-known defeat of invading Mongol troops, who were destroyed by General Tran Khanh Du's army. Tourists in Quan Lan can visit a temple dedicated to the General, where they can learn about the history of the region and the achievements of the commander. The temple's roof is hidden under pine canopies. Approximately 100 steps lead to the temple's entrance that is halfway up a mountain.

Because Quan Lan is a strategically important seaport, the French built a lighthouse on its shores in the 19th century in order to protect the beach and to signal to passing merchant ships.

For tourists resting on the beach in evening, the illuminations from the lighthouse look like a twinkling star.

The dearth of post-midnight electricity makes night life a wee bit difficult to sustain in this town. During the evening hours, locals and a few tourists stroll along the village's main street, where sugarcane juice vendors and a few cafes stay open. The only sounds that dare to disturb the island are the melodic vibrations of karaoke bursting from living rooms and local cafes.

Sa sung (kind of sea worm) is a speciality of the region. It's used in cooking soup, which helps provide a wonderful taste and adds nutritional sustenance to dishes. Fishing for sa sung with the locals is a popular activity for tourists.

"While men in the village go fishing in the sea, we catch sa sung and sell them to tourists and businesses on the main land as our secondary job," says a local woman.

There are no five-star hotels at Quan Lan Beach, but tourists are able to enjoy a pristine atmosphere that has yet to be overdeveloped.

A verdant rooftop

Beyond the well-known and colourful markets of Sapa, Bac Ha and Can Cau, the northwest mountainous area of Vietnam is bewitched with the wild town and market of Sin Ho, the roof of Lai Chau province.

My friend said that it would be a pity if you travelled to the northwest mountains of Vietnam without stopping off at Sin Ho market. I didn’t give his claim much credence at first, until I stepped foot into the market—known as Cho huyen Sin Ho, and open every Sunday.

Situated imposingly on the Sin Ho plateau of Lai Chau province, Sin Ho town is located on the highest peak, over 2,000 metres above sea level and surrounded by verdant mountain ranges and clouds.

Locals call it: The Roof of Lai Chau province. The small town is also well-known as the second Sapa of the northwest area. But the climate in Sin Ho is even more sour and scornful than that of Sapa. Suddenly, you can be standing in a sea of white clouds, then, just several minutes later, the rain will rumble down like a waterfall. But right after the last rain drop falls, the sun will rise brilliantly and a cool wind will blow over the small town.

It takes me four hours to drive up the zigzagging road from Phong Tho town, at the junction between National Road No. 4D from Sapa and National Road No.12 towards Muong Lay town. The mountain road has been smoothly paved over, but it’s still a slow and winding drive. Therefore, I decide to spend a night at Sin Ho town and wait for the market until the next morning.

In the late afternoon, Sin Ho town looks small, deserted and gloomy, with simple and sparse wooden houses roofed with dark grey cement tiles and only a few shops and restaurants. It’s lucky that there are several modern guesthouses and mini hotels with reasonable prices. For only VND250, 000 per twin room, I check into the Thanh Binh guesthouse. It’s not an overstatement to say that at such a cost, this is the best hotel outside of Sapa in the northwestern area. It has spacious rooms, good facilities and a friendly staff.

On Sunday morning, the sleepy town comes alive. From all paths up and down leading to the town centre, waves of tribes people walk or ride horses and motorbikes, all loaded with many kinds of farm products, toward the market. These tribes come from many distant villages up and down the mountains. They are Flower Hmong, Blue Hmong, Black Hmong, Lu, Black Dao and Red Dao, among others.

After a morning at the market, I take a trekking tour to Pha Xo Lin II village, just three kilometres from the town centre. The village is home to the Dao Khau tribe, also known as the Sewing Dao, or the Black Dao, who wear black trousers richly embroidered with signature flower, tree and star patterns seen on many Dao costumes. They also wear a front hanging black apron with a wide, plain blue band around its outside, together with a plain black turban.

The village is very beautiful and poetic, with dark wooden houses roofed with black stone tiles and fenced in with stone hedges. This season, the peach and mango orchards are ripening in a riot of red and yellow. It’s mouthwatering to walk in the village, where you can take a seat under the fruit trees to enjoy lovely lanterns swinging in the cool winds and their fresh and sweet tastes. Pha Xo Lin village is very famous for its special golden red mangoes, with their sweet taste and jackfruit-like flavour.

Besides its delicious fruits, Pha Xo Lin village is a shopping paradise of brocades and embroidery products. It’s common to see Dao women sitting at their thresholds in their front yards or under the fruit trees sewing passionately. While you’re there, don’t miss out on buying some clothes, scarves or other decorous things from the tribes people. Their products are very sophisticated and beautiful, as befitting of their name—the Sewing Dao tribe.

Green fingers raise living standards

For centuries, Tra Que village has made a name for itself through its greenery. Lan Hieu finds out more.

A small lane leading to Tra Que

Chairs for visitors to relax with herb spa after a hard working time on the field

Farmers fertilize soil with algae taken from a nearby lagoon

Foreign tourists at Tra Que

The sweet aroma of Tra Que vegetables and herbs has spiced up the everyday meals of people in Hoi An since a very long time ago with Special dishes like Cao Lau, My Quang, Banh Xeo, and more.

Located near the banks of the De Vong River, the village is now home to nearly 200 households who engage in cultivating vegetables on a total area of 40 hectares.

According to old farmers, Tra Que has been famous for its vast vegetable plantations for about 400 years. The first villagers here were all fishermen but they soon discovered that the land here was very suitable for growing vegetable. With skills and experience, farmers here have been producing some of the country’s most celebrated greens, which have been become a trademark.

A walk around the village reveals small, green, edible plants spread out in all directions, giving off a natural aromatic fragrance.

Talking with the farmers here, we learn that it takes a lot of hard work to have such green fingers.

“We have to learn how to till the land, sow the seeds and then how to nurture the plants,” Manh Hung, an old farmer while wiping his sweaty face, “This work may be easy for farmers in other places but extremely difficult for us here because we do not use chemical boosters and fertilizers."

This is also one reason why Tra Que vegetables are being chosen by not only Hoi An’s locals, but also families and supermarkets from neighbouring areas like Danang City, Duy Xuyen and Hoa Vang Districts. They are healthier than those grown using chemicals and provide a distinctive flavor that has earned a loyal following.

“Our land here is enriched by the alluvium of the De Vong River,” said Tran Minh Nhu, a local guide who has a large onion plantation. “We fertilize it with algae from a nearby lagoon. That may be the reason why our herbs are so green and tasty.”

Among the more than 20 kinds of vegetables and herbs grown here are cabbage, colza or rape, celery, kohlrabi, and perhaps the most famous, savoury. Similar to basil and mint, Tra Que savoury is very popular in many restaurants and hotels in Hoi An for its special fragrance.

In recognition of the local farmers skills, people here all refer to them as “artistes”. Thanks to their special products, the village has become an attractive destination for tourists. It has been a highlight for visitors to Hoi An since the first tour to the village was opened in 2004.

From Hoi An’s centre, Hoi An Travel Company takes visitors on one-day or half-day tours to Tra Que, which gives them a chance to discover the daily life of farmers and try their hands out at actual farming. Visitors can participate in such activities like tilling the land, sowing the seeds, watering, fertilizing, harvesting and so on.

This tour is attracting a lot of people, especially foreign tourists. In recent years, Hoi An Travel has been taking more than 1,000 tourists to visit Tra Que Village annually, gaining hundreds of million of Dong.

Visitors to the village will be welcomed at two guest-houses before being taken to the plantation by a local farmer to see and join his work. If they stay for a whole day, lunch will be served at the guest house with Hoi An’s special dishes. After that, visitors can relax with a foot massage using medical herbs before saying goodbye to the farmers.

"I really enjoy the work as I never have worked on a farm before," shared on Irish visitor joining in a full-day tour with us. “Besides learning the work of farmers in Vietnam, I can relax and do exercise at the same time.”

With a steady income from both farming and tourism, living standards for residents has improved significantly, all thanks to the humble herb.

Vietnamese food: Lively, lighthearted, lovely

Last fall, I was in Hong Kong, Vietnam and Cambodia, but my heart belonged to Vietnam, especially its food. (Hong Kong’s food is pretty well represented in Vancouver and as for Cambodia ... well, it’s not known for its gustatory delights.)

Inflated rice balls make a big impression.

A market in Hanoi.

Vietnam’s Can Tho market offers an amazing array of fruits and vegetables.

A woman in Hanoi hawks pho from gigantic cooking pots.

I’ve always yearned for more exciting Vietnamese food in Vancouver, but knew I’d have to follow it to its source for the thrills.

Vietnam confirmed my belief that Vietnamese food is a lot like its people — lively, light-hearted, lovely. And good-humoured. (How else would you describe a giant, golden, inflated rice balloon with a rice pattycake hiding inside?) Somehow, that buoyant nature has survived in the people and the food through the bloodiest of wars. A grandmother toothily laughs. A translator tells us she’s asking if we understand her babbling baby grandson in English because he’s sure not speaking Vietnamese.

I was smitten. Even the city traffic, which seems more like a national suicide pact (motorbikes, bicycles, cars, people, tuk-tuks darting in every conceivable direction without the logic of lanes, traffic lights, or rules of the road) won’t deter me from going back.

Going from Hanoi in the north to Central Vietnam and down to Ho Chi Minh City (still referred to as Saigon by most locals) and the Mekong Delta, the food changed with the geography and climate which morphs from temperate to tropical.

Vancouver’s Vietnamese restaurants only skim the surface of regional variations of food in that country. We don’t see the amazing produce or taste the intensity of herbs or variations of the nuoc nam , the fermented fish sauce, a signature taste in so many Vietnamese dishes.

In Hanoi, we had to try the one-dish restaurant, Cha Cha La Vong. The dish? It’s called cha cha — monkfish fried with dill, turmeric, rice noodles and peanuts. They bring a charcoal hibachi to the table and you cook the fish and a pile o’ greens yourself. The restaurant has been there for several generations and the staff is said to be gruff (unusual in Vietnam, but the matriarch took a shine to us and came and cooked ours for us in between counting out dongs (Vietnamese currency) at the next table, their evening’s take. It’s grungy (Molly Maids would have heart attacks), but it’s so famous that copycat restaurants have sprung up, messing with your mind. The cha cha was delicious.

It would be unforgivable to wimp out on trying street food for fear of gut-wrenching illness. We searched for ones that came recommended (my neighbour, who’d been to Vietnam a year earlier, recommended a pho seller, for instance).

One night, we went to a place that sold great pork patties and shrimp spring rolls. Gratefully, we sat at a table, not on the plastic toddler stools that Westerners look ridiculous on, at some of these places. The food was good and my stomach inflated like that rice balloon.

My husband, however, didn’t want to miss out one chance to try the street pho that our neighbour, Karen, had recommended. I watched in amazement as he went in search of it, sat down with the locals and slurped back a heaping bowl of pho. Mom and son threw enormous cuts of meat to each other, sliced off thin slices and threw slices into steaming bowls. Locals looked astonished when they thought a stranger reached out for my husband’s pho (it was me) and took a big, noisy slurp. It was, despite the optics, delicious.

Wild Lotus, in Hanoi, is in a gorgeous French colonial building. (The French left behind beautiful buildings and A something of their food culture, unlike the Americans, who left bomb craters.) We followed a marble staircase and passed by a fountain en route to the second-floor restaurant with a modern tropical feel. Slender female servers (they’re all small and pretty) wore ao dai (those silky, side-slit tops) and males wore suits. Astonishingly, main dishes were an average $6 Cdn. Deep-fried prawns bundled in vermicelli, served with plum sauce; grilled sea bass; morning glory leaves, sauteed in garlic; pork loin with cashews, mushrooms, dried chili, spring rolls in shredded rice noodles — and the bill came to about $60 with wine.

You should use a guidebook because you’ll run into horrid food just like anywhere. We ducked into a nice-looking place for breakfast one morning and “shirred eggs” turned out to be an eggy sauce with a lid of goopy cheese and bits of ham. Yech!

In Central Vietnam, at Hoi An (where my husband had the equivalent of a Zegna suit tailored for $350), we ate at a string of food stalls along the Thu Bon River, returning to “Mr. Dong’s” a few times for the “white rose,” a regional specialty of shrimp dumplings in clear rice dough. But the banana pancakes and noodles were just as good. (Dong is also the word for Vietnamese currency, a challenge to say for an inhibited North American.) Breakfast was included at the hotels we stayed in and at Hoi An, we could have had a sumptuous Vietnamese buffet every morning with dim sum-like dishes that changed daily.

Cafe des Amis came recommended in guide books and was a heck of a deal with seven courses for about $12, but it was most memorable for the owner, a Mr. Kim, decked out in black leather pants and jacket, a smoking bon vivant, strutting among guests, telling stories he must have told a thousand times.

A young couple we met from London led us through the dark alleys of Hoi An and to their discovery, a restaurant called Secret Garden, not in guide books. We ended up taking group photos with the friendly staff after a meal of star anise soup, pork and fish tamarind hotpot and pork skewers.

In Ho Chi Minh City, I’d stand, each morning, at the fourth-floor window of our hotel, looking down at a woman who made rounds on her bicycle, draped with bags and bags of produce, eggs, fish, meat. Women from shops would saunter out, leisurely check out the fare and buy a little bit of this and a little bit of that. (And no, it wasn’t refrigerated.) Then she’d move on, plastic bags rustling.

Vietnamese supermarkets don’t exist. Food is bought at markets or vendors on the street. The floating markets are very cool. We put-put-putted around the boats early one morning before taking off down the Mekong on a “Heart of Darkness” journey to an eco-lodge.

At Ho Chi Minh City, my all-time favourite spot was Quan An Ng, a brilliant idea. Cooking stations circle the perimeter of an elegant French colonial-style restaurant; each one is a stall with cooks making street foods from all over Vietnam. You can walk around, check out all the regional specialties at the stations and point and order or order off the menu. Can they please open one in Vancouver?

The most modern Vietnamese meal was at the sleekly modern Xu restaurant in Ho Chi Minh City. A four-course tasting menu was about $27; an eight-course went for $44. The menu features dishes like tuna spring roll and black sesame seared tuna; steamed rice flour roll with fish, bean shoots and roasted shallots; tamarind-braised beef cheeks with pumpkin mash and pumpkin flower; crab soup with boiled quail egg, peanut and chili; scallops with green mango noodle salad and lemongrass dressing. Desserts? Durian cream puff and chocolate caramel tart.

I had a dramatically memorable dish from along the Mekong Delta. On a bike trip, we had a lunch of elephant ear fish which was deep-fried whole and mounted like a trophy on a wooden stand, dramatic as heck.

What I won’t dwell on here is the part of Vietnamese cuisine I can’t bear. Even the thought of a snake farm at one of the towns we biked was enough to send me on a detour. At an outdoor coconut candy factory, I bought some of the taffy-like confections, trying not to look into the eyes of the coiled vipers, trapped in bottles of rice wine, said to invigourate libidos.

In the same shop, lots of alligator purses, perhaps siblings of the ones we saw in a muddy pond?

But getting back to the good stuff, another unforgettable Vietnamese culinary tradition is their insanely good coffee. It’s intense and delicious, dripped slowly into condensed milk if you don’t want it neat. We brought a few bags home, but I think you have to be Vietnamese to make it so good.

And dare I say, I think that to be true of the food, too.

Phu Quoc Island becomes world-famous tourist destination

Vietnamese Prime Minister recently released Decision 633/QD-TTg stating that Phu Quoc would become a special economic and administrative center for Vietnam.

Making fish sauce on Phu Quoc Island ( Photo: SGGP)

Following the prime minister-approved adjusted master plan to develop Phu Quoc Island through 2030, the island would also become the home for domestic and international resorts, urban development, as well as a forest and marine preservation center.

The Phu Quoc Island, also known as Dao Ngoc ( Pearl Island ), for its famous pearls, has the potential to become a major tourist centre within the country. Located in southwestern Kien Giang Province, 45km from the mainland, the 565sq.km island owns 32,000 hectares of pristine forests, beautiful and clean beaches, and undamaged coral reefs. ABC News selected Bai Dai Beach (Long Beach) as one of the five most beautiful and clean beaches in the world, though it is not well known outside Vietnam.

A taste of the old days

With a close proximity to the World Natural Heritage Site Phong Nha – Ke Bang National Park, Chay Lap is firmly on the tourist map. The village offers visitors a "hands-on" experience of rural Vietnam.

Some might define the perfect getaway from the city as a country retreat on the doorstep of a celebrated national park, with mountain biking, forest trekking, or kayaking along majestic rivers all as feasable options. So far, Chay Lap Village in Bo Trach District, Quang Binh Province fits the bill, but we are in Vietnam, so what better way to top it off with than some cultural authenticity?

The village offers tourists the chance to live the life of a Vietnamese farmer, sharing an old traditional house and helping farmers plant vegetables and feed the livestock. Visitors can fish in the river and plough the fields with a buffalo.

The homestay service was introduced at the village about a year ago and organized by the community with the Green Future Fund, which supports local people with capital and guidance. The project has a very altruistic side. Many of the families involved used to make a living illegally exploiting the forest around the heritage site for timber and wild animals. The homestays provided the farmers with an alternative means to subsidize their meager incomes. Now, most of the wooden houses in the village have been refurnished to welcome tourists.

Even when you want a break from working the land, a simple bicycle tour will find you retracing the steps of Vietnam’s history. One can follow a winding road past a forest management station and find themself meandering along a section of the historic Ho Chi Minh Trail, witness to many fierce battles during the American War, the scars of which can still be seen today. It is very humbling to look up from the historic trail at the timeless backdrop of mountains, unchanged for centuries.

After about 10km, the trail leads past a steep slope and into an immense field. You will find yourself at a river bank where a boat waits to take you back to Chay Lap. Those who like kayaking can explore the surrounding on a different route. Rowing along Chay River, you can visit Toi Cave and admire the breathtaking beauty of mountain cliffs and catch a glimpse of the many grey Langur (Voọc duoi dai) and other endangered animals and birds that live in Phong Nha-Ke Bang National Park.

A number of tour agents work with the village to promote their homestay service. Tourists can also organise their own trip with the help of Phuc Trach Commune’s Board of Community Tourism Management.

Enjoy some more pictures of the village, taken by photographer Jang Shilly

On the Ho Chi Minh Trail today

Thirty five years after the American War, I had an opportunity to travel on the old Ho Chi Minh Trail with some friends from Ha Noi. The scenery is breathtaking and the atmosphere is peaceful and poetic. This reminds me how beautiful the country is.

Transporting goods along Ho Chi Minh trail to a Southern war zone in the 60’s

New road replacing Ho Chi Minh trail

General Giap’s headquarters

Part of Dien Bien Phu’s cemetery, with tombs of unknown soldiers

The 1600 km long trail is known by the Vietnamese as the Truong Son Trail. Built in 1959, it became a network of tracks, roads, and waterways running from North to South Viet Nam, passing through Laos and Cambodia. It provided logistical support to the National Liberation Front (Viet Cong) and the North Vietnamese Army. In the early days it would take about six months to go between North to South, on foot or by bicycles or ponies. Throughout the American War the trail had carried more than one million North Vietnamese soldiers and vast quantities of war supplies to battlefields in the Southern war zones.

As we passed by a series of mountains along the Truong Son Range, I was told the Americans had dropped at least four million tons of bombs along the trail during the war. The numbers of Vietnamese deaths and wounded were also in the millions. Aside from Agent Orange, the Americans also sprayed other types of chemical defoliants. In addition, they created rain by seeding clouds, in turn producing mudflows -- attempting to destroy the jungle path.

It was in the 90's, when Prime Minister Vo Van Kiet authorized the construction of the entire trail with concrete materials. Its width was increased up to four times. The newly built road also became highly beneficial to tribal Hmong families as it enabled them to travel from the remote mountain sites to towns and cities. Many Hmongs could do direct trading with the Kinh people, which is the majority ethnic group in Vietnam.

After nearly four hours of smooth travelling and admiring the beauty of the wilderness, we arrived in Thanh Hoa. There, we attended the ceremony of the 100th day following the re-burial of the 22nd emperor of the Le dynasty, Le Du Tong, who had reigned from 1705 to1729. Like all the 27 Le emperors, Du Tong had been buried in a secret location in Thanh Hoa. Forty six years ago, when a farmer was digging up the soil, he accidentally un-earthed the emperor's tomb. The government decided to keep the remains inside the National History Museum in Ha Noi for research. When Du Tong was first buried in 1731, his body was embalmed and dressed in 13 layers of silk gowns containing preservatives. Finally, last spring he was returned to Thanh Hoa, with a grand ceremony. His new tomb will become one of the great memorial sites. To prepare for the second burial, the local authorities had to widen the village roads to allow the 400 cars and trucks into the site. On the date of the burial, many young children climbed up into the trees to watch the coffin being lowered into the ground. Overloaded with the children, many branches fell and broke. Miraculously, nobody was injured. The locals said the emperor had protected them.

The 100th day ceremony was scheduled to begin at 3pm. However, the monks had decided to wait for us as we did not arrive until 4pm. At this ceremony, I was given the rare honor to present a scroll written in calligraphy by a Buddhist monk containing my personal wish to the Emperor's spirit. He is called "the elder gentleman". Something strange would happen soon. In that same week, I was invited to Dien Bien Phu for the commemoration of the 56th anniversary of the Battle of Dien Bien Phu. The trip would take 4 days by road, with stopovers in Moc Chau and Lai Chau. The Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs, Nguyen Thanh Son, would lead the group. I badly wanted to visit the great old battlefield. However, I had already scheduled another trip to the Mekong Delta, concerning my charity. It would not be possible for me to include Dien Bien Phu. While feeling the anxiety, I made a prayer to "the elder gentleman". To my pleasant surprise, the dates for Dien Bien Phu were suddenly changed and we would leave Ha Noi two days earlier. The revised departure date was perfect for me, as I would be able to make the trip to the Mekong Delta after returning from Dien Bien Phu. Did the "elder gentleman" answer my prayer or was it pure chance? In either case, I felt that some spiritual force had blessed me for having committed myself to the charity.

We left the burial site in the evening. On the way back to Ha Noi, we stopped at a little restaurant near a mountain site for dinner. The pleasant waitress served us charcoal grilled wild boar. This was accompanied by fried farmer chicken, steamed fish with green bananas, and boiled wild vegetables. That was an exceptionally delicious meal. We returned to the comfortable car and were driven smoothly along. I enjoyed listening to many heart-felt war songs. The long trail circling the Truong Son mountains was most serene and one could hear the whispering of the night wind. The sky was pitch dark: mysterious, calm, and melancholic.

My journey to Dien Bien Phu a few days later included another series of scenic routes and also rough and muddy roads. The group enjoyed various local cuisines, including wild boar and buffalo meat. Early morning the next day we arrived at a hilltop overlooking the old battlefield. The grand ceremony for the deceased soldiers was solemn and powerful. The event was organized by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the National Buddhist Association. Nearly 100 monks and nuns were present, with a huge crowd attending each day. The great altar was filled with many varieties of fresh fruits, prepared food, and drinks. Lots of beautiful orchids and chrysanthemums were on display. Together with other overseas Vietnamese, I visited the large cemetery of the unknown soldiers. At each tomb, we lit incense for the deceased. One of the most moving aspects of the whole occasion was the consideration shown to the soldiers on both sides of the war who had died for their countries. On our last day at Dien Bien Phu, we went up to General Vo Nguyen Giap's old headquarters on top of a very steep hill. Climbing was hard physical labor. I wondered about the task of pulling the many heavy cannons uphill. I thought of the thousands of Vietnamese, known and unknown, who had lost their lives at this battle. We owe them our way of life.

As soon as I returned from Dien Bien Phu, I made a second trip to Thanh Hoa, this time with Brooke Balza, an American documentary photographer. A devoted member of the charity, she wanted to obtain many photographs of the children victims of Agent Orange. They are of the third generation of those originally infected. Witnessing their physical deformity was most disturbing. With the photos, we will hold international exhibitions to raise money in order to build therapy and skill centres in Thanh Hoa and other provinces. During the American War, a large number of young men and women from Thanh Hoa had gone South to join the nationalist forces. Of these, at least 22,000 were infected by Agent Orange. Thanh Hoa itself had also suffered massive bombing raids. In the mid 60's, when the United States started their seven year campaign against North Viet Nam with "Operation Rolling Thunder", the Thanh Hoa Bridge was a strategic target for repeated attacks. So many B-52 bombers were shot down from this bridge that the proud local residents changed its name to "Dragon's Jaw Bridge".

I now anticipate many future trips to Thanh Hoa. And I would love to travel along the Ho Chi Minh trail again. One day I would like to go along the trail all the way to the Mekong Delta.

Portland restaurateurs lead two-week culinary adventure around Vietnam

In fact, if you didn't mind the skinny legs, you might not even have noticed that you were eating grasshoppers. After the grasshopper appetizer, there were choices of grilled goat teat or raw cobra heart.

This was just another typical meal in Vietnam, especially when you're traveling with Portland restaurateurs Lam Van and Elizabeth Nguyen, owners of Portland's Pho Van and Silk restaurants.

Last March, they led a group of seven couples, along with their favorite wine distributor, Holly Wing, on a two-week culinary adventure through Vietnam.

Starting in the French-influenced capital of Hanoi, we stopped in Halong Bay to the north; Hue and Ho An in central Vietnam; and finished in Ho Chi Minh City and the Mekong Delta. Along the way, Lam and Elizabeth made sure that the meals were a constant -- and sometimes startling -- highlight.

Northern Vietnam

Rooftop restaurant Highway 4 was our first foray into full-contact adventure eating. With crunchy grasshoppers, fried softshell crabs, spicy squid, baby fish and seasoned mountain vegetables, our first meal in Hanoi was one of our best.

Along with dinner, we sampled a variety of Vietnamese snake wines, which have the smoky taste of a weak Scotch and are essentially the same as Japanese Habu Sake -- with the addition of a fermented snake in the bottle. We also tried scorpion and cobra wine.

Seated on the floor under a teak trellis, with a Buddhist altar behind us and piles of Vietnamese delicacies in front of us, we felt alone in the mountains of northern Vietnam. But the snake wine can make it tough to get off the floor. (5 Hang Tre St., 84 43 926 0639, http://highway4.com)

After a day spent touring the Perfume Pagoda outside Hanoi, our second dinner was far more traditional, and one that Lam and Elizabeth were particularly excited about. We enjoyed a late-night dinner at Le Verticale, where we took over the entire third floor of an elegantly restored four-story French colonial villa. With wide plank floors, gentle candlelight and ultramodern dinnerware, the room could have just as easily been in a townhouse in Ile Saint-Louis in Paris as Hanoi.

Brittany native Didier Corlu started Le Verticale two years ago after several years as the executive chef at Hanoi's Sofitel Metropole. He has artistically melded his native French cooking with the rich flavors and ingredients of Vietnam to produce one of Hanoi's top restaurants. In fact, the first floor of the villa is an elaborate spice shop.

Our six-course tasting menu included wild prawns with spring roll and sweet and sour apple, Corlu's signature ocean escabeche, pan-fried duck liver foie gras with Daikon turnip and tamarind juice, red tuna with citronella and passion fruit, Didier's own "le Corlu" cheese and soft cake of chocolate and cinnamon. Each course was as artistically presented as it was exquisitely prepared. While we just enjoyed Didier's handiwork, he also offers cooking classes every Sunday. (19 Ngo Van So St., 84 43 944 6317, http://verticale-hanoi.com)

Central Vietnam

From Hanoi, we headed to Hue, where we toured the remains of the old Imperial Citadel. The palace, being restored, was badly damaged during the Vietnam War, and bullet marks scar much of the stonework.

At a Royal Hue dinner at Restaurant Royal Park, our entire group dressed in Vietnamese imperial costumes. Peter Bishop and Janet Williamson presided as the Emperor and Empress of the Court. While the "ancient banquet" was not the culinary highlight of our adventures, traditional song, dance and instruments, as well as the elaborate decorative presentation of the dishes, provided a glimpse of Vietnamese royal life 100 years ago. (38-43 Nguyen Sinh Sac St., Vi Da, 84 54 389 7202)

From Hue, we headed to the resort town of Hoi An, almost as famous for its tailors, who can produce virtually anything overnight, as it is for its beaches. Our group spent several hours at the Yaly tailor (47 Nguyen Thai Hoc, 84 510 391 4995), having suits, saris and caftans custom-made. Hoi An was the perfect place to relax before the excitement awaiting us in Saigon.

Southern Vietnam

On our first night there, we went to rooftop restaurant 3T Vietnamese Barbecue, which was teeming with young Vietnamese, occasional expatriates and a few other tourists. The roof deck has a retractable roof, and every table has its own small propane-operated grill.

For the first course, we grilled seasoned boar, venison and goat breast to our liking, and then finished our skewers with fermented tofu dipping sauces. While the goat was a little chewy, the venison was absolutely delicious. Charred fresh okra made for a crispy side dish. Smoke engulfed the open-air restaurant, adding further ambience, and heat, to Saigon's tropical humidity. The meat course was followed by shrimp, which were brought out skewered alive, wiggling and ready to grill. With plenty of ice-cold Vietnamese beer, we spent hours enjoying the smoky rooftop. (29 Ton That Thiep, District 1, 84 83 821 1631)

We also spent a day on the famous Mekong Delta, which has been the scene of so many American movies about the Vietnam War. Today, it is a busy commercial waterway and site of fish farming. We toured several of the smaller islands in the delta and sampled the local coconut candy and rice wine.

Returning from the delta, we had our final dinner in Ho Chi Minh City at the Quan An Bistro, which offered a more traditional colonial Vietnam setting, in stark contrast to most of the city's sleek modern restaurants. But the food offered the same rich diversity of tastes and textures that are one of the hallmarks of Vietnam.