From its sandy beachside retreats to its grand, historic monuments, Vietnam’s picturesque port city of Da Nang is an adventure through space and time.
MENTION Vietnam, and your friends are likely to start blabbing about their experiences in Hanoi or Ho Chi Minh City – of their to-die-for coffee, the chaotic streets, and the honking, raging motorcycles that almost always miss hitting pedestrians by a whisker.
But ask them about Da Nang, and they would probably go: “Where?”
I must admit, I hadn’t heard much about the place myself. Thinking it would be hot and humid, and with Sarah Jessica Parker in mind, I went with a suitcase packed with mostly sundresses and shorts. Big mistake.
I soon found myself shivering, even in a long-sleeved blouse and jeans as cold gusts of December wind stroked my bare neck. I discovered only later that temperatures can go as low as 18°C-24°C in the rainy months, from November to January.
Its drier months are between February and April, with temperatures from 19°C-31°C, while its hottest months are in May, June and July (24°C–34°C). In spite of my wardrobe mix-up, I was determined to make the best of my first trip to Vietnam.
Wedged between Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh City, Da Nang is the country’s third largest city. Located on the picturesque central coast, it is a major port city. It may have neither the atmosphere of Hanoi nor the heady rush of Ho Chi Minh, but it has its share of sights.
If Ho Chi Minh is marked by its lively ballyhoo, then lush Da Nang is the mellow cousin with lots of R&R to offer. One of its biggest attractions is its beach. The white, sandy coastline lapped by the South China Sea has become a thriving locale for tourists.
Hovering at the edge of the ocean at the luxurious Hyatt Regency Danang Resort and Spa Hotel, I felt the icy-cold air against my skin. Unfazed, I shrugged off my urban shroud and made my way towards the chilly waters. The splashing waves, coupled with the soothingly cool weather as I dipped my feet in the ocean, yielded a calming effect.
Another night at the upscale Nam Hai Villa Resort proved to be a similarly lavish experience. The resort was built on the Hoi An beach based on feng shui principles. There, my travel companions and I (all 18 of us media folks) were chauffered to and fro in golf buggies to our welcome dinner (and what felt unsettlingly like the umpteenth eight-course meal of the day).
Like little kings and queens, we were serenaded by Vietnamese folk tunes throughout. The breezy luxury, amplified by the ocean humming relentlessly outside, made our stay seem somewhat surreal. But the most spectacular beachview in Da Nang, I thought, was the Non Nuoc Beach.
During the Vietnam War (1959-1975), American GI Joes who sought respite at the idyllic coast called the place China Beach. Mist-shrouded and with verdant plains that rolled out to what seemed like infinity, the beach took on the guise of an epic fantasy film. Bamboo boats in quaint, round shapes dotted the shore.
Known by locals as the thuyen thung (pronounced “twin tung”), the boat is an iconic symbol of Da Nang. Today, the humble creation is still used to shuttle fishermen to and from larger vessel anchored in deep waters.
Da Nang’s location also connects travellers to Vietnam’s three Unesco Heritage Sites: Hoi An Ancient Town, the Complex of Hue Monuments and My Son Sanctuary.
Trendy commercial tinsel and old world charms meet beautifully in Hoi An (pronounced Ho Yarn). Nestled about 30km south of Da Nang, Hoi An is a sleepy town with a laidback air. Previously occupied by the Chinese and the Japanese, the town now sees a colourful cross-cultural marriage with its winding lanes of Sino-Japanese styled shophouses. Most are over 300 years old and all still retain their original architecture, with many shops now catering to the tourist trade.
You should really keep a lookout for the made-to-measure shirts, blouses, dresses and suits offered here. It is estimated that there are over 400 such outlets. Me, I got a fitted, lantern-red silk cheongsam that was miraculously completed in just half a day! At US$55 (RM173), it is also comparatively cheaper than the rates in Malaysia.
Another must-see attraction in Hoi An is the Japanese Covered Bridge on the west end of Tran Phu Street. It was built in the early 1600s by the Japanese, roughly 40 years before they made an egress from the city, and was renovated in 1986. The bridge connects two sides of the town and bears numerous Japanese and Chinese influences, including beautifully-carved dragon and phoenix motives.
Come evening, food vendors flock at the stretches on both ends, offering mouth-watering meals of rice noodles and grilled dishes. As the sun sets, Hoi An comes to life as hundreds of glowing, balloon-shaped lanterns light up the facades of homes and shops.
As English is not widely spoken, it’s probably a good idea to engage a tour guide to help you get around. Our guide Hung, a stocky man in his 50s, told us adamantly: “We are not Chinese or Japanese. We see ourselves as purely Vietnamese.”
Then he added cheekily: “But I can speak a little Chinese, like wo ai ni (I love you).”
The Complex of Hue Monuments provides a gateway to the nation’s past. Also known as the Imperial City of Hue, this landmark in the north of Central Vietnam was built by the Nguyen Dynasty in the 19th century. Between 1802 and 1945, Hue was the imperial capital of the Nguyen Dynasty, not to mention the capital of Vietnam until the communist government made Hanoi the capital city.
We arrived at the main entrance called the Ngo Mon Gate on a rainy afternoon and were guided into the Forbidden City – once accessible only to the emperors and his entourage. The punishment for trespassing was death.
The white-stone path led to the administrative areas – the palace of supreme harmony, where coronations and other important meetings took place. The tall, sturdy walls whispered hints of an opulent past. To hobble across the drenched stone-steps in the rain, however, entailed the possibility of tumbling down to a mucky, moss-encrusted death. I treaded with fearful caution, clinging onto my travel companion, a travel writer, for dear life.
Most of the original structure still stands, including furniture, the throne and four red lacquer columns. The private quarters of the Forbidden City, however, show evidence of structural damage from the wars. Though it paints a tranquil picture today, the site has seen darker times.
In 1968, Hue witnessed a massacre when it was controlled by the Viet Cong for 28 days. In the months and years that followed the bloody battle, dozens of mass graves were discovered in and around Hue. Victims were found bound, tortured and sometimes, buried alive. Hue suffered further damaged when the Americans bombed the city in an effort to recapture it from the Viet Cong.
Another one of Vietnam’s monumental relics is My Son (pronounced Mei Sheng, which means “beautiful mountain”). Located at the Quang Nam province 69km southwest of Da Nang, My Son is a cluster of abandoned and partially ruined Hindu temples constructed between the 4th and the 14th century by the kings of Champa. However, due to the incessant downpour, we did not get to go there.
Nevertheless, here is the lowdown on majestic My Son – its temples were dedicated to the worship of Shiva, or Bhadresvara to locals. While My Son served as a site for religious ceremonies for the kings of the ruling dynasties, it was also a burial ground for Cham royalties and national heroes.
At the height of the Champa dynasty, over 70 temples, as well as numerous stele bearing historical inscriptions in Sanskrit and Cham, graced the site. The temples sat on a 2km-wide valley surrounded by two mountain ranges. Today, it is hailed as the longest inhabited archaeological site in Indochina, though a large part of its architecture was destroyed by US carpet bombing.
My Son is often compared to other historical temple complexes in South-East Asia, like Borobudur, Angkor Wat, Bagan and Ayutthaya. Adding to its mystique, archaeologists have discovered that the Champa did not use mortar at all to glue the bricks together. Their building secrets remain a ancient mystery.
As a whole, Da Nang makes the perfect escapade. Its laidback culture and voluminous landscapes bode especially well for urban dwellers who just want to kick back and relax. From its pristine shores to its grand, historical relics, Da Nang takes the traveller on an breezy adventure through space and time.
AirAsia flies from Kuala Lumpur to Da Nang, Vietnam, four times per week. For more details, log on to www.airasia.com. The writer’s trip was at the invitation of AirAsia.
