It’s about relationships, I think.
Not just museums, not just experiences, not just restaurants. History, culture—it’s all important, but relationships seem to bring it all together.
First, a friend of a friend of a friend first put Malaysia on my travel itinerary, resulting in a chain of events I would have otherwise never experienced. Then another three connections starting from the same person send me on a six-hour bus drive with a good reason to drag myself out of Ho Chi Minh City for the weekend. I’m on the bus home now, after a day and a half of sun, sand beaches, and wind—two of which HCMC definitely does not have.
But it would have been a very different experience in Mui Ne, a coastal town in south-central Vietnam, without the three local guides. Three lovely local ladies took it upon themselves to host a couple of North Americans, taking us for ocean-side seafood away from the tourist area, followed by coffee, smoothies, and coconut ice cream at a coffee shop (we’d say café) with live local music—guitar and voice singing mostly Vietnamese with optional international karaoke.
Then yesterday, we motorbiked along the scenic coast to the white sand dunes and almost had the rolling hills to ourselves to roll down, run up, and comb (ever since “Spaceballs: The Movie” I’ve liked the idea of “combing” the desert…).
We were dropped off at a Fairy Stream of red sand where we waded up to a small waterfall.
And since the three connections were through a friend from Newfoundland, I had the rock I grew up on on my mind. It was incredible how the motorbike ride was exactly like winding along the road out to Flatrock. Hills in the background, sparse trees in a windswept countryside. But then you’d see the sand and remember that it wasn’t home. It’s incredibly beautiful, though my heart was back in Canada.
The wind in Mui Ne. It’s incredible. It’s like the Wreckhouse Winds. Your hair whips everywhere. But unlike Newfoundland, the sun burns you here. And you can have a meal at a restaurant in the 9pm heat without thinking about needing a sweater. You should avoid having picnics, though, as, like in Newfoundland, your food will blow away if not eaten in a protected area.
We successfully managed to eat noodles and seafood, grilled shrimp, and rice paper rolls with green mango, cucumber, zucchini, mint, lettuce, and steamed mackerel dipped in nam pla sweet and spicy fish-based sauce without everything blowing away, though.
And we bought boiled peanuts unshelled from hawkers, along with cherries that weren’t cherries and unripe mango with chili salt.
We saw the town where people actually live in Mui Ne, not just the resort areas. We hung out with Tran, Miumiu Ruby, and Chinh’s husband, boyfriend, and friends, even though many didn’t speak English. We took pictures and laughed and saw and experienced.
Because that’s all part of it. And the sum of all parts is the feeling of gratitude and respect and appreciation I have for these ladies. Out of the kindness of their hearts they made us feel welcome, not just more tourists there for the beach. Nothing made us special besides one mutual friend. Maybe some day they’ll come to Canada, and I’ll give them the best in the house. Just like any Newfoundlander would.
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