Up, Down, and Around Phan Thiet City

“One hundred steps left!” I muttered, stopping momentarily to catch my breath. Sneaking a peek at Nga, my new Vietnamese friend, I noticed that she had beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who lacked exercise.

Glancing behind us, I saw a small family stopping by a cashew tree to take photos. Their huge grins made it seem as though going up 300 steps was an easy feat. My guess was that they were having too much fun to mind the climb or the warm morning sun. Plodding on, we continued with the climb while engaged in a light banter. Engrossed with our conversation, I didn't realize that we had reached the final step. I looked up and saw it at last—the largest reclining Buddha in Vietnam.

One step closer to the sky

Lying atop TaCu Mountain of Phan Thiet City in Binh Thuan Province, the 49-meter statue receives a regular stream of visitors, particularly during holidays and important festivals when many Buddhists stay in the pagoda dormitories overnight. Accessible by foot through a trail or via a cable car ride, the reclining Buddha is one of the more popular spots in Binh Thuan Province. Believers pray for good health, financial blessings, and even for a husband or wife. Surrounded by forest trees and ensconced in the solitude of the mountaintop, they burn their incense and let their hearts' desires float to the skies.

Apart from its significant part in Buddhism, TaCu Mountain rewards the patient climber with a panoramic view of Phan Thiet City. From the peak, I peered down into the surrounding landscape defined by rice fields and orchards, winding pavements, and a smattering of roofs. And, looking over to the opposite end, I reveled in the spectacular view of the glistening white sand and sparkling blue waters of the South China Sea. Working with a tight schedule meant I did not have enough time to explore every corner of the city. But the eagle's eye view from the mountain more than made up for that.

Descending the steps, we passed by a man with a wrinkled face and white hair creeping up his temples. He gazed at the Buddha with a solemn expression, waving incense sticks in the air. I wondered what it was he was praying for and silently hoped that his wishes would be granted.

Down the road we go

As the car drove away from the mountain-top pagoda, I stared out the window and watched the scenery speed by. I saw dragon fruit trees with the rare flash of red peeking out from behind its lush green leaves. The huge cacti fruits abundant in area were easier to spot by the roadside where they sat piled up in baskets in all their red glory.

We turned into a wider road and more houses came into view. Despite the varied hues, the houses had one thing in common—their wide-open doors and windows. Facing the street, the houses looked truly inviting, as though beckoning the weary traveler to stop by and sit down for a cup of coffee. It was, I soon realized, a taste of what awaited visitors in the seaport city.

A bite of Vietnamese cuisine

It was easy to tell that we have arrived in the city proper. The greens of the orchards gave way to multi-colored shops. The houses, spaced closer together, generally had closed doors and windows. And as a bonus clue, buildings were now in sight.

Still, I did not get the same hurried vibe that I felt in Ho Chi Minh City. Phan Thiet was a quieter version with fewer motorcycles traversing the road. I immediately felt at ease and the usual worry that came with crossing Saigon's streets was forgotten.

With the noontime sun beating down, we decided to grab a bite before taking to the streets. I requested Nga to pick the place. My only request was that it be a restaurant where the locals dined. It was a request that she took to heart because instead of bringing me to a fancy diner, I followed her into a corner eatery reminiscent of food stalls back home. Cooked meals in steel trays were lined up behind the glass counter, ready for the picking. If I was on my own, I would've just proceeded to point at them randomly, fingers crossed that I wouldn't end up with something too spicy. But because I was lucky enough to be with someone who spoke the language, ordering was a breeze. In fact, ordering was so easy for Nga that we ended up with more dishes than we could eat.

The small aluminum table was just about covered with plates by the time the food was served. We had lemongrass chicken, sautéed vegetables with meat, pork with pepper, and fried fish. Everything was flavorful and I am happy to report that not a single dish proved too spicy for my tastes. My favorite however was Mắm chưng, which was similar to quiche in texture but more savory in my opinion. We ate family-style, sharing the dishes between us and nodding in appreciation with every bite. As I sat there in the eatery and wielded my chopsticks, I suddenly felt truly at home in Vietnam.

Around the sleepy city

With filled tummies, we were recharged batteries ready for the next leg of our adventure. First stop was the fishing port where rows of boats in bright reds and blues lingered over the waters. Done for the day and resting before they set out for the evening sail, most of the fishermen napped in the shade of their boats.

The smell of fish hung heavily in the air like a constant reminder of where we were. I could just imagine the flurry that ensues in the early mornings when all the fish and seafood come in. It was undeniably the go-to place for all things fish in Phan Thiet City. I was no longer surprised to find out that the town is said to be home to the best fish sauce in the country.

From the port, we drove to the Van Thuy Tu Vestige, a temple-like structure that is like a second home to the city's fishermen. Inside its walls can be found the remains of the largest whale ever found in Southeast Asia. To say that the skeleton is imposing would be an understatement. The first time I laid eyes on its gaping jaw, I almost stepped back in awe. It was huge and I honestly could not fathom how the creature looked like when it was alive.

Venerated by fishermen, the whale is treated with great honor in the city. Whenever a whale is found dead in the waters, the fisherman who found it would bring it back to Thuy Tu where a ceremony would be performed. The body is burned, and the skeleton would be kept in the vestige. As Nga puts it, it was a ceremony reserved for a family member who passes on to the next life.

Before leaving the place, I said thank you to the building's caretaker. He had followed us around, opening doors and lights wherever we went. With a sun-weathered face and browned skin, I could only guess that he too once spent many hours at sea. Perhaps this was his way of giving back to the great creatures who have blessed his nautical journeys. He rewarded my feeble attempt at pronouncing cảm ơn correctly with a nod and a smile. It was one of the many little things I remember most about my brief encounter with the city that sleeps by the sea.

Originally published in asianTraveler Magazine