All along Vung Tau’s main drag there were plenty of reverie-inspiring vantage points, and it was hard not to find a view of the ocean.
Leaving Con Dao left us a bit wistful, but three days of doing not much at all had also left us itching to get back to civilization. Saigon was calling.
When we traveled back to the airport via motorbike to extend our flight a day (at no extra charge), the parking lot was deserted, but they still made us park in the designated motorbike area.
Much of Con Son’s coastline — we not tapering off to secluded beaches — dropped off sharply into the crashing blue waves below.
Less than 1,000 yards from the airport was one of the most pristine and secluded beaches I’ve ever seen. A few shacks served up beer, coconuts, surprisingly good fare.
Looking out at Con Son’s main harbor. A new port was slowly taking shape and it appeared heavier development was on its way.
The coastal roads ringing Con Son were a pleasure to drive, and the views weren’t bad either.
Con Son’s main town proper, as seen from our third-floor balcony.
This little kid — couldn’t have been older than four — knew how to navigate my smart phone better than me — and managed a decent score on Angry Birds to boot.
At the Saigon airport we took a minibus out onto the tarmac and boarded our plane to the Con Dao islands the old-fashioned way. Not gonna lie: my first first time on a propeller-powered plane and I was a little leery.
Offering up “a bit of what you fancy,” this was Con Son’s hippest bar by far. The owner was a young Vietnamese man who spoke pretty good English and had great taste in music.