Honeymoon for One

DAY: 22
LOCATION: Ho Chi Minh City, Phu Quoc

When deciding where to go in Southeast Asia, I naturally asked Tim for recommendations. He’d been a few years back, and gave me a rundown of his faves:

Tim: Laos is dreamy by all accounts
Tim: Avoid da nang
Tim: Hoi an is Disney but fxcking cute af, SUPER TOURISTY
Tim: I didn’t love HCMC
Tim: Google phu quoc – that was my fave

Well, I Googled, and it looked picturesque, but even if I hadn’t I would’ve booked it on Tim’s word alone. Warm aquamarine waters, fresh coconuts, and massages on the beach awaited.

Word of advice: when flying out of HCMC, leave for the airport early. I got an Uber at 7am, allowing two and a half hours before my flight, but even that caused me stress. The driver didn’t know what he was doing, the check-in line was interminable, and security took ages. Gahhhhh. I tried to maintain perspective - the worst thing that might happen was a missed flight; I wasn’t being poisoned with dioxin.

As soon as we landed on the island, the energy shifted. Byron and Cairns had been sleepy and wonderful, but Phu Quoc was another level. Like, honeymoon level.

“You’re here alone?” The cherub faced receptionist at La Mer Resort asked innocently as I checked in. “Where is your boyfriend?”

I glanced around the garden setting, the stone walkway leading back to the charming bungalows. If I was with Levi, we’d probably have double doors opening on to the beach, or even be out on the water, but for $40 a night this was everything I’d hoped it would be.

“Just me!” I replied cheerfully.

My room wasn’t ready yet, so I threw on my suit in the massage area and strolled down to the beach. Open air restaurants and general stores lined the tiny 300m road. Aside from the name brand snacks and goods ($7 for a mini bottle of Banana Boat??) and a hostel devoted to everyone’s favorite Minions, it felt remarkably undeveloped and rustic. This is perfect, I smiled to myself, rounding the corner to the beach.

It wasn’t exactly what I expected, but that doesn’t mean anything. How boring would the world be if everything conformed to my expectations? I was mainly surprised at the width of the sand. It wasn’t Waikiki, but it was quite narrow.* The water was also greener than I imagined, and there were a lot of Russians, but none of these things were actually negatives (except the cigarette smoke from the Russians- not my fave.)

I found a place to lay my towel and asked the woman near me for help with the sunscreen. A vendor passed by with coconuts and I bought one, then drifted into my thoughts.

Alright, here I am, on this island, sipping a coconut, alone. Doing the thing. Thinking the thoughts, being an independent woman. Totally alone. All good. I wonder what Levi’s doing, maybe I should text him– no stop! Be with yourself. Myself. Stop talking to yourself like I’m not you. Wait, I’m doing it again. Shit… I gave up trying to exist in a meditative state and read some Guenon instead.

After getting checked into my room, a second floor unit with a clean and minimalist tropical vibe, I ventured up to the main road for an ATM. My millions had gone fast. The one the hotel told me to go to was being worked on, and I was directed down the road - “past temple.”

I passed said temple but found no ATM. What if I can’t get money out? What if no where accepts credit cards and I can’t eat?? What was I thinking coming here alone with no cash??? All sorts of ludicrous stories were being spun in my head. I asked a hotel receptionist and they pointed me across the street to a machine inside of another hotel. Saved!

Except I couldn’t get money out. Not only that, it appeared as if the machine has registered my request for 3 million dong, but decided to issue nothing. Had I just lost $130 to this ATM? And if I had, who could help me? Who would believe me?

I asked the worker in the hotel, but he spoke very little English and had no idea. He told me to wait for the manager. I sat down outside, hating how much I wished I were in the US at that moment. The joys of travel.

The manager didn’t speak much English either, but he used the machine to pull out a million dong. He gestured for me to use my card, but I was nervous the same thing would happen as before, and I’d somehow lose more money. Finally I understood what he was trying to tell me.

“Ohhh, I can’t take out more than a million!” I laugh/cringed, both relieved the problem was solved and embarrassed by my mini internal meltdown. I wondered how I looked to them- the spoiled rich Westerner freaking out about the ATM. I forgave myself though- nobody would be very happy in that situation, regardless of position on the financial ladder.

I cut down to the beach and walked the two miles or so into the main part of town for lunch at Khanh Ly. It was another vegan buffet for a dollar, only this one was self-serve. I watched the locals come in and out, buying plastic baggies of soup, veggies, and rice. There was a rhythm and routine to all of it, like buying baguettes from the boulangerie, or coffee at the corner cafe.

I spent the rest of the afternoon in and around the water. It was so peaceful, so undisturbed, so… lonely. Watching the junks motor their way across the orange and purple sky, I longed for someone to share the moment with. My mango shake wasn’t cutting it. This is what I wanted, I reminded myself. To be enough for myself.

As if to drive the point home, I tortured myself by having dinner at possibly the most romantic restaurant along Duong To- The Spice House at Cassia Cottage. I just couldn’t help myself, the setting was so divine.

“Only for one?” The hostess gave me a pitiful look. I nodded, and she sat me overlooking the pool and illuminated palm trees. I listened to some Americans chat about nothing in particular next to me. It was the best location with the least flavorful food I had so far in Vietnam - go figure.

Walking along the water later, the beach empty and sky dark, I felt weightless. Time melted into the black ocean. I sat on a resort chaise, one I wouldn’t be allowed on during the day, and closed my eyes. The quiet lapping of the waves intensified into a roar. This was the reason I’d come…

A mosquito interrupted my reverie. It had gotten me three times on one shin before I’d realized it.

“Dammit,” I rubbed it lightly, resisting a full-on scratch attack. I slipped my sandals back on and looked out over the salty infinitude. “I’ll see you again tomorrow.”

• I later learned it was due to the seasonal tide, and would get wider in the summer months, and much hotter. Thank you, Google.