Vung Tau: Ho Chi Minh City’s Tranquil Coastal Haven
When you think of Ho Chi Minh City, it’s the buzz of motorbikes, the glittering skyscrapers, and the never-ending hum of life that comes to mind. Yet just 100 kilometers southeast lies Vung Tau, a coastal sanctuary that now falls under the city’s expanding administrative umbrella. It’s a place where the rush of the city gives way to the rhythmic whispers of the sea—a serene escape that feels like pressing pause on the whirlwind of modern life.
Your journey begins in the early morning light as you leave behind the urban chaos. The Saigon–Vung Tau Expressway promises a smooth and swift drive, but here’s the catch: the expressway is reserved for cars only, so motorbikes still have to take the old route, winding through rural backroads and charming countryside scenes. The gradual transformation of landscapes—towering glass buildings fading into emerald rice fields dotted with water buffalo—is a gentle reminder that you’re on the way to somewhere different, somewhere slower.
Arriving in Vung Tau feels like exhaling after holding your breath for too long. The city stretches along 20 kilometers of sunlit coastline, its air thick with the salty perfume of the sea. Your first stop is Front Beach, known locally as Bãi Trước, where gentle waves lap the shore and fishing boats drift like scattered petals on a jade-green canvas. There’s something meditative in the simplicity: locals practicing tai chi, children splashing in the shallows, and the distant hum of boat engines merging with the sound of the surf.
By midday, you find yourself meandering along narrow streets shaded by tamarind trees. Here, Vung Tau reveals its quieter face. Artisans craft pottery by hand, their fingers stained with clay. Elderly vendors in conical hats serve bowls of fresh coconut and sticky rice. Life flows at a pace dictated not by clocks but by the sun overhead. You stop for lunch at a seaside stall where grilled seafood—prawns, scallops, and squid—arrive fresh from the water, seasoned with garlic, lime, and a touch of chili.
In the afternoon, you head to Back Beach, or Bãi Sau, where the waves are livelier and the breeze carries the thrill of adventure. Surfers dot the water, children fly kites in the salty wind, and parasails soar above the sparkling sea. You rent a lounge chair, sink your toes into the warm sand, and let the hours slip by. The sea’s endless motion has a way of quieting the mind, washing away the relentless noise of city life.
As the sun begins its descent, you make your way to Nghinh Phong Cape and climb towards the Vung Tau Lighthouse. The view is breathtaking: the coastline curves gracefully, golden light bathes the water, and boats return from their daily journeys. Near the summit stands the towering statue of Jesus Christ, arms wide in an embrace of sky and sea. It’s a place for reflection—a moment where the vastness of the ocean mirrors the quiet depths within.
Evening brings a gentle liveliness to Vung Tau. The streets come alive with lanterns, seafood stalls, and the soft strumming of guitars. You stroll the promenade, savoring skewers of grilled squid and sweet sticky rice. The city’s nightlife is spirited but never overwhelming—just enough to make you feel connected yet still at peace. You slip into a small café, order a cup of robust Vietnamese coffee, and watch the world pass by under the glow of soft yellow lights.
Night in Vung Tau is a lullaby of waves and distant laughter. You fall asleep to the gentle breeze rustling through palm fronds, the rhythmic hush of the sea never far away. By dawn, you rise to catch the sunrise over Bãi Trước—the sky painted in soft hues of pink and gold. Fishermen push off into the calm waters, their boats casting long shadows on the glassy surface. It is a scene so timeless, so deeply rooted in the land’s rhythm, that for a moment, the pressures of modern life feel like a distant memory.
As you journey back to Ho Chi Minh City, whether by car on the expressway or by motorbike on the winding old road, you carry with you something rare—a piece of stillness, a breath of ocean air, and the memory of a place where time, for just a while, stood still. Vung Tau is not just an escape; it is a gentle reminder that life’s true richness is often found in its simplest moments.
