After crossing the Cambodian-Vietnamese border overland we travelled back on ourselves by boat to the island of Phu Quoc. The ownership of this archipelago, which we could see from Kampot, has long been contested by the two nations. Phu Quoc is bigger and more developed than Koh Rong, where we stayed in Cambodia, but once again we had an atypical experience as we stayed in the island’s undeveloped interior. We chose to do a homestay with a lady named Jenny and her family, providing an authentic introduction to Vietnam. The family’s main business was running a pepper farm, where we stayed in amongst the rows of tall conical plants.
Jenny had two incredibly cute children, three-year-old Tiger and seven-year-old An, who had an insatiable appetite for games. Upon our arrival An gave us a tour of the family’s farm and impressed us with her English when she pointed out pineapples, limes and lemongrass that were growing on the family’s land. It was interesting to see how these familiar ingredients actually grow. Our tour had barely finished before An covered both big brown eyes with her small hands and propositioned us with the words, “one, two, three?”, expectantly. We understood the universal language of Hide and Seek and Laurence began to count while I hid with Tiger and An. Tiger held my hand and tugged me down until I was crouching at his level. Each time we hid, he put a finger up to his mouth and ordered me to “shhhh”, excitably, whether I was making a noise or not. To him, it was an essential part of the game. We’d “hide” in the most visible places while Laurence pretended he couldn’t see us. When finally “found” Tiger giggled uncontrollably at the thrill before pointing at me or An, indicating it was our turn to count (it was never his). We played for what felt like hours. Laurence and I grew sweaty and our legs were beginning to ache from constantly crouching to please Tiger, but his and An’s enthusiasm never ceased. The announcement of dinner was our only saviour.
After mixed food in Cambodia, we were looking forward to the Vietnamese cuisine and were not disappointed as we were force-fed crab after crab, vast quantities of barbecued squid, and small deep-fried fish. All were served with plenty of rice, an amazing variety of fragrant herbs, and Jenny’s delicious homemade pepper and lime dip. Jenny’s husband demonstrated their custom of wrapping all of the ingredients in rice paper before dipping the parcel in the zingy sauce. As we chatted about the cultural differences between our countries, we were plied with sickly sweet homemade myrtle wine – so sweet that their children seemed to have developed a taste for it as well.
The pepper farm was remote and so our only way to explore was on the family’s brand new motorbike. It was quite a responsibility but Laurence soon got the hang of the island’s bumpy dirt tracks. We spent a day visiting the more remote beaches of the north, stopping to cool off in the sea and for refreshment breaks. It was here we had our first taste of the famous Vietnamese coffee. Although Laurence in particular was sceptical, the intense bitterness of the Robusta coffee made an altogether different drink when iced and accompanied with condensed milk. In fact, he was not too sad to ditch his single origin Arabica in place of the ubiquitous and cheap iced coffee, which hence became part of our daily routine. The beaches were empty but their beauty was scarred by massive concrete construction sites as they begin to develop. When we mentioned this at dinner, Jenny lamented the privatisation of beaches for resorts like these and wondered whether, by the time Tiger had grown up, there’d be any public beach left for him and his friends to enjoy. As a tourist, the prospect of a private beach is always enticing so it was good to be reminded of the flip side of such a luxury.
The next day, Jenny took us snorkelling with Tiger while An was at school. This was homestay-style snorkelling. We arrived at the spot where a local fisherman had agreed to pick us up and take us out in his boat, only to find out that all the fisherman were drunk on rice wine (at 10 o’clock in morning!) We followed Jenny round the village as she asked acquaintances if anyone could step in. Luckily, a friend offered up their daughter who could row us to the coral. We were welcomed, stooping, into their rickety wooden house, which lay on stilts across the water. The girl waded out back to bring the boat in, while we sat in a hammock watching the lapping water through gaping cracks in the floorboards. Her mother was keen to protect my much envied white skin so gave me a traditional Vietnamese hat for the day. We were surprised to see how widely used they were in Vietnam, having assumed nowadays they’d just be worn for show. In the intense sun I understood how impossible a day’s work out in the rice paddies would be without one. It was like having a tree with me all day!
We set off at a snail’s pace in the ancient rocky boat, with improvised fishing-net oar hooks. When finally we reached the coral, Jenny invited us to jump in – harder than it sounds when the water is shallow and the boat is barely seaworthy. As Laurence braved the manoeuvre, Jenny shouted “mind the sea urchins!” a little too late… He got painfully spiked by five spines in one foot. We later saw Jenny instructing Tiger to wee all over her spiked foot but Laurence didn’t much fancy the alternative Vietnamese treatment! The snorkelling was ok but I think the mention of coral had conjured tropical images of brightly coloured angel and clown fish, stingrays and turtles in our minds. Unfortunately all were absent, as was the concept of responsible snorkelling. Rather than not touching the coral, we had to jump out the boat directly onto it, and instead of simply observing and taking nothing from the site, Jenny hacked sea urchins off the rocks and caught tropical fish! This highlighted the lack of education the locals have towards the fragile nature of the reefs here and, while we really enjoyed our day, we were left with a slightly guilty feeling that trips like ours were partly responsible for the lack of marine life we witnessed.
Foodies as we are, the most memorable experience was lunch. We had a barbecue on the beach of freshly caught squid and fish. Eating the unprepared squid was a messy operation, the ink blackening our hands and faces to the amusement of our Vietnamese hosts, who managed effortlessly. Then, Jenny and the skipper donned our snorkelling masks and caught some sea urchins for us to try. Any guilt we may have felt was eradicated by the pain in Laurence’s foot and we ate a stack of around fifteen with Jenny’s chilli-lime sauce to exact revenge! They were sweet and succulent with a hint of salt from the brine but also rich and creamy with a luxuriant texture, similar to that of scallop roe. Freshly plucked from the sea, it was a special way to experience a new food, especially being able to indulge in a limitless supply. I dread to think what fifteen of them would cost in the UK!
Wanderlust to Wonderment 