A Disappointing Mary Poppins

Monday 4th January 2010, 10.35pm, Phuong Thanh Guest House - Dalat

One thing I have learnt on my travels so far is to remember that someone else's opinion on a place is always just their opinion. Even his Lordship the Lonely Planet is only a collection of opinions by whichever travel writers were sent to be the intrepid explorers of that destination. I'd heard many mixed reviews on Mui Ne before boarding the bus there from Saigon on Saturday morning; from the glowing, 'great beach resort, best kite surfing in Asia - a must', to the damning, 'smells bad, dirty water, nothing to do there - bypass', both of these critiques from friends whose opinions I value. In the spirit of discovery and adventure, and wanting to be able to add my own critique to the pile for future travellers' reference, I took the advice of the former friend and hopped on down to Mui Ne, on Vietnam's South Eastern coast.

I can wholeheartedly agree with him on two things, number one: the sand is 7km long, cotton wool soft under aching, pavement pounding city feet, sunshine yellow and spread wide from the beach bars to the frothy surf - it's a great beach resort. Number two: if you like kite surfing, you will REALLY like Mui Ne. Approaching the beach on the afternoon we arrived I told Ella that I felt like an extra in that scene at the end of Mary Poppins. A somewhat redundant extra however, standing open-mouthed and staring at the daredevils on surfboards being pulled 10 metres above the waves by the roaring wind filling the kites attached to their waists by harnesses. Watching other people kite surf is fun for about an hour (N.B. positive frame of mind and breezy disposition necessary to last whole 60 minutes). It was kind of the Mary Poppins equivalent of being cast as a chimney sweep and being made to stand out the way on the roof while everyone else flies their damn kite...'up to the highest heights!'.

Nevertheless I am neither brave nor patient enough to be dragged through rough seas on the back of a foam plank by a glorified piece of tarpaulin and Mother Nature's wrath. So we gave kite surfing a miss. After spending that evening in bars full of 'kite surf bums' - I'm not being derogatory, this is what they have cheerily termed themselves - I was even more relieved to have not plumped for lessons that afternoon. I don't like to generalise, but I'm human, and we do, so I will... kite surfers are dull, or stoned, or both. They do not understand why anyone would want to live anywhere other than the beach getting tossed around like a ragdoll for 8 hours a day. They dress like a 10 year old Avril Lavigne fan who has spent the entirety of his school summer holidays perfecting skateboard tricks on the kerb outside his house. They also have over inflated confidence in their attractiveness to the opposite sex and react with visible shock and puzzlement if told by two astute, streetwise, city-dwelling girls 'No thanks mate.' Clearly I will not be marrying in to kite surfing stock any time soon. I'd rather eat my own hand.

Anyway, these matters aside, I didn't like Mui Ne. Not because I'm rubbish at water sports, or because the men had ego dysmorphia issues, it just didn't suit me. My attitude and Mui Ne's atmosphere travel on parallel paths in opposite directions - we were just never going to meet in the middle, not even to pass each other by and exchange pleasantries. Incidentally Ella concurs with my dislike of Mui Ne, as my second friend correctly observed, there is nothing to do there. The main problem I would say it has is that it doesn't know what it wants to be or who it wants to cater for, lack of focus has made it directionless so that it floats adrift amongst a sea of other nearby beach resorts who know and play to their market, it has a little bit for everyone but not much of anything for anyone. Hey, that's only my humble opinion though.

On our second evening there the two of us were so disheartened with the place that we avoided going out altogether. Ella was missing a friend from home and had promised this girl to find a lookalike for her on our night out and take a photo. Having failed on her mission the previous evening, I offered to be made up as Ella's friend and have my picture taken. So we spent some time playing fancy dress, we took "comedy" photos of me throwing my hair straighteners in the bin (they are the size of a pencil and unsurprisingly, on trying them out for the first time that evening, we discovered that even at 200°C, they made precisely zero difference to the current state of my untameable locks, they are still in afore-mentioned bin), we fussed about examining our clothes and jewellery, we de-matted Ella's windswept tresses, we danced around to MGMT, we filed our nails, we gossiped about boys (the good, the bad and the ugly) and then to top off our evening of self-made entertainment I went to the mini-mart, bought us Coca Cola and Oreos, and we sat in bed and watched the X Files movie. Slumber Parties R' Us. We both secretly yet thoroughly relished having a little temper tantrum over our disappointment in the place, had a giggle later about the way we had seized the first opportunity in over a month to find a viable excuse for said temper tantrum that wasn't hair related, and we created our own fun. Despite not being Mui Ne aficionados, we definitely managed to enjoy ourselves.

You know what, it's alright that I didn't particularly like it there, there's no rule that says you have to love every place you visit (jeez, I've lived in Essex for 23 years, there's not even a rule that says you have to love where you live) but I think there is a duty that I give everywhere I can a chance. I don't know when I will next be lucky enough, if ever, to find myself in Vietnam again, and what if Mui Ne and it's arrogant young bums had been my Mecca, my home from home, and I'd not bothered to give it the benefit of the doubt? Friends' valued critiques are helpful, but not your own, and if you don't get on the bus with an open mind and eager feet then you will only ever have other people's opinions to talk about, you will only ever speak with someone else's voice. And that would make you even less interesting than a kite surfer*.

*In the spirit of anti-generalisation I would like to offer my sincere apologies to any kite surfing enthusiasts reading this who may be neither dull nor stoned. Congrats, you broke the mould.