We’ve been in Vietnam for a week now and made it about ⅔ of the way down its long coastline. Travelling through Vietnam is a relatively linear process. There is one train line that runs along the coast from Hanoi to Ho Chi Minh City (more commonly known as Saigon) with only a few minor spurs going off of it. Our trip so far hasn’t deviated much more than 10 miles from this main line. This is great for seeing the full extent of Vietnam from north to south - you don’t have to neglect any areas of the country and Vietnam makes for a perfect land bridge from China to the rest of southeast Asia, or vice-versa. The down-side to the simplicity of navigating Vietnam’s transportation corridor is that you have to share it with everyone else. Because there is only one significant rail-line linking all of the major cities, any movement between those cities relies on that one line. It’s been pretty difficult to get tickets for some of the legs of our journey. For example, I’m writing this post from a seat on an overnight train instead of a bed on an overnight train because they were all booked up. Not ideal for a good night’s rest, but we’ll deal.
Our strategy for visiting Vietnam was to spend a day or two in the bookend cities of Hanoi and Saigon to see Vietnam urban life (and because they are nearly impossible to avoid when travelling through Vietnam) but spend the bulk of our time somewhere in the middle of the country - preferably in a smaller, quieter seaside town. We found that exact match in Quy Nhon, a mid-size port town located about ⅔ of the way down the coast between the larger cities of Danang and Nha Trang. A lot of Vietnamese from the cities vacation in Quy Nhon and it has a very bustling port that we visited Thursday morning - I’ll tell that story in a bit.
In a lot of ways, Quy Nhon is the perfect city. It has the kind of topography that you’d expect to see in a Sim City game. A stretch of land about 2 miles wide nestled between the ocean to the east and mountains to the west. There’s an excellent natural harbor just north of town that extends into a sizable bay - almost like San Francisco’s layout, actually, just on a smaller scale.
Our first day there, we rented scooters and headed south along the coast line hugging the mountains for what made a beautiful ride. Every once in awhile we’d turn off downhill towards the beach and ride through a little coastal village and find a deserted beach or, in one case, an elephant standing on the side of the road eating needles out of a pine tree. It’s amazing what you find once you get off of the trains and buses and start exploring little nooks and crannies on your own.
We approached the second day a bit different. Realizing that the beaches were deserted because it was way too hot and the sun was way too direct to be enjoyable, we got started at 6am instead of 8am. Still, as we were leaving the hotel, Vietnamese families were finishing up their morning swim and heading back to the hotel. It gets really hot here really fast. We were up at the port by 6:30am and the shade was already quickly disappearing. We had decided to call it a morning by 11am and exile ourselves to shade for the entire afternoon.
Walking into the port in Quy Nhon was what I imagine it was like to walk into a port 200 years ago. Wooden fishing boats were all crowded around the docks unloading baskets full of fish that were carried off on bicycles or by hand to a covered area 30 feet from the water. There, the fish were cleaned and either set out to dry on reed mats behind the covered area or packed in ice and loaded into trucks. I suppose that last step put us more squarely in the present. There were plenty of wholesale buyers carrying off baskets by hand though, so it wasn’t hard to imagine you were in the 19th century. I think that in a lot of ways, travelling in developing countries is like going back in time. Fishing ports in the west are so mechanized, huge and disjointed that it’s hard to see the whole process - nevermind the fact that a visitor to a western port would unlikely get to just wander around at his leisure among the melee like we did in Quy Nhon.
Despite the chaos, rotting fish smell and a glaring sun before 7am, we were able to see the whole process very neatly and transparently; the way it would be laid out in one of those illustrated encyclopedias of “how things work”. On the other side of that, of course, is that even I, a lay mariner at best, could see obvious ways to improve the port facilities. How about enclosing the fish processing center and refrigerating it to reduce the need to truck ice in on a daily basis? Or even better than that, make the ice on the premises instead of driving it across town? The crudeness of the operation was beneficial to us, but I’m sure the port operators aren’t striving for quaintness. Who knows what the place will look like in 20 years - or if it will even exist - as capital investments improve and complicate the port. That’s why you have to see it now and then compare it to the future when it comes. Actually, I read later that Quy Nhon had been a significant port since the 2nd century AD, so chances are it’ll survive the next 20 years.
After the fishing port, we drove about another mile down the road and found the boatyards. When we arrived, two crews were building two separate fishing boats out of wood. It was amazing to watch the process. Twenty year old boys in plastic shower slippers were scrambling along a make-shift scaffold fitting freshly milled wood planks around the rib of the keel. I’m not the best with boating terms, so forgive me if I slip up. As far as I could tell, the guys were cutting boards about 20 feet long and attaching those planks to the frame of the boat (also wood) using vice grips. Then they drilled holes into the ribs, stuck iron pegs into the holes, and used those pegs as braces to force the wooden planks into place with vice grips. I thought it was cool that they use wooden pegs to attach the outer planks to the ribs of the frame. There was very little metal used in the whole process. In fact, if it weren’t for the electric circular saw and the electric drill, the boatyard scene could have also taken place two centuries ago. The vice grips were key to putting the planks in place though. I’m not sure if vice grips were around in the 19th century. And again, how many boatyards in the west would let you walk around freely, looking over the workers’ shoulders? I’m sure OSHA would not approve.
So, Quy Nhon was a success. It was the kind of place where you can just unpack your bags for a few days and go find an adventure. Compared to China, it was a breeze. People were much more friendly, spoke more English and seemed more open to foreigners. This also made me happy that I spent the time I had in China. Seeing how easy southeast Asia can be, I’m happy we opted for the more challenging route.
By the time I post this, we will have arrived in Saigon and be back in city life. I’m operating under the assumption that Saigon will be just like New Orleans (major port city at the mouth of a major river system; French influence; prostitutes, etc.) and that the only difference will be that songs will refer to the “Mekong Delta Blues” instead of the “Mississippi Delta Blues”.
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