The joys of Phú Quốc island are many. And for me, on this particular visit, it was a tourist paradise sans tourists.
I flew a quick and painless 40 minutes from Saigon, slightly apprehensive about my first air travel experience after COVID-19 hit, and was quickly greeted by warm salt water, freshly plucked steamed squids, signs advertising deep-sea diving excursions in Russian, and burning sunsets. I read fiction by Thom Jones, waltzed along the beaches while dodging unpredictable surf, and listened to ‘The Nightfly’ and Khruangbin’s ‘The Universe Smiles Upon You,’ two records which suit themselves well to tropical climes (but for different reasons).
It’s certainly striking to see a place normally so adapted to tourism be, in large part, free of it. Cruising the deserted side streets by motorbike in search of a famous stretch of beach on the northwest coast, I routinely thought I must have taken a wrong turn. Not to worry, though, as things were just quiet in these parts. At first I was concerned about this quiet—is it disconcerting, strange, even a little depressing? Not in the slightest. A little quiet goes a long way, and while Saigon chugs ahead and returns to pre-pandemic normalcy I’m thankful to get some solitude. Here’s to weekend travel.