TRAVELMAN IN VIETNAM: A Vacation From My Vacation on Phu Quoc Island- A Bum in the Sun.

There’s plenty to do on Phu Quoc Island and I’ve done very little of it. After two and a half months of non-stop new and exciting, it’s time for same-same and relaxing.

      “Well, I'm a bum in the sun and I'm having fun
      And I know you know I got no special plans (special plans)
      All the bills are paid I got it made in the shade”
                                                                      
                                     —Van Halen “Beautiful Girls”

I could rent a motorbike and explore the island, but hanging out at the beach, swimming in the ocean, and drinking smoothies has been more appealing.

I could book a snorkling trip to the Southern tip of the island, but the three minute walk to the beach has been so easy, and I can see fish on my dinner plate.

—Delicious Red Snapper—

There’s also a waterfall somewhere around here, but the hostel has great showers with flowing hot water you can stand under, and you don’t have to hike in the bug laden heat to get to it.

I could take a cooking class, but the breakfast buffet at the resort where I’ve been hanging out has pumpkin soup. I don’t have to know how to make it either, I just have to eat it. I don’t even have to eat it. I could just take it then leave it sitting on my table. But why would I do that? It’s delicious!

—Arcadia Beach Resort Breakfast Buffet—

I could also go to the bars at night with other backpackers, but an early dinner around the corner, followed by some homemade ice-cream served in a homemade waffle cone, followed by some light yoga and a hot shower, followed by classic Conan and Letterman clips on Youtube- Well, that’s been where it’s at. It’s what all the cool kids are afraid they’re not cool enough to do.

—-Rory’s Bar, a popular beach hangout—-

The drinks have been mainly non-alcoholic, banana smoothies, Oreo cookie shakes, or a straw stuck into a fresh coconut.

I’ve walked up and down the beach, but not too far. I’ve swam in the ocean, but, more so, leisurely waded in the ocean.

I’ve written, I’ve thought thoughts, cleared my mind, and told myself I’ll plan for Cambodia and India tomorrow (that was three days ago.) Life’s a beach.

...Ahh, paradise.

I flew here four days ago (and boy are my arms tired! Bam! Ohhh Yeah! ...I still got it! ...The doctor told me I’ll need a shot to get rid of it! BOOM! ...People tell me I should do stand-up on the road- and wait until a car hits me! Boo-Yahhhh!!! {that one’s for you, Gary} ...Sorry, I amuse easily).

—-I had a connecting flight in Ho Chi Minh—-

Outside the Phu Quoc airport, I scoped out some backpackery types with whom to share a taxi.

TRAVELMAN’S TRAVEL TIP #9: To find other backpackers at airports look for dirty people carrying a single backpack. The more unshaven, tattooed, and pierced, the more likely you found your target.

Ok, that tip is a flagrant exaggeration, but on this occasion it rang true. I approached two guys and a woman.

“Would you guys be going to 9Station Hostel?” I asked. I held my phone in my hand with google maps at the ready.

“No, we’re going to ( some other) Hotel.” The woman said. She exhaled a drag from her cigarette. She was tall and thin, She had blonde, curly, beach bum hair, nose, ear (and likely elsewhere) piercings, tattoos, rings, and a gold upper arm band. Her male companions were unshaven and dressed in shorts and t-shirts that most would have discarded years ago.

The woman asked me, “But where are you going? It’s probably close to us.”

I showed her the map. It was, indeed, close to them.

The woman said, “Yeah, great. We can share a cab after we finish our cigarettes. What’s your name?”

I told her my name.

Her name was Alex. The guys introduced themselves as Owen and Chris. They were Brits and all of them were pleasantly congenial.

Taxi drivers hovered nearby like middle-aged men around a yet to open wedding buffet. Two of the driver’s slowly approached. Most of the passengers on our plane had already grabbed rides. We were the remaining scraps on the table and these drivers were hungry.

“Yes, after we finish smoking.” Alex called out to them. It was the verbal equivalent of waving a torch around us to keep them clear.

The Brits finished their cigarettes. The first driver said 100,000 VND, the driver next to him countered with 90,000. The first driver counter countered with 80,000 VND.

“Do we hear seventy?” Alex asked, half-joking. We didn’t hear seventy.

We piled into the cab and rode the fifteen minutes to Duong Dong town. We engaged in a bit of the typical conversation. I was in the front next to the driver so I was able to stay on the sidelines of most of the talking. The driver stopped in front of their hotel. The hotels and restaurants had brightly lit signs attempting to draw your attention. Some of the newer hotels were ten to twenty stories tall, and there were a lot of new hotels.

Maps said that my hostel was 400 meters away, down a side street. I found it, it was posh, and mostly empty. It had a small pool and a washing machine guests could use for free. I ended up switching locations the next day, the place didn’t feel right.

Turns out I was right to listen to my Travelman senses. I found the Q Hao hostel and it’s an amazing place. The owner designed a beautiful building. The beds and pillows are the most comfortable of any hostel wherein I’ve ever laid my head, and they have homemade ice-cream waffle cones for 20,000 VND.

—The center atrium of the hostel building—-

Q Hao gives all guests one bottle of beer in the evening at the bar. Most people head up there shortly after five when the sun starts to set. I was three sips deep when Owen, Chris, and Alex walked up behind me.

—View from Q Hao rooftop bar at free beer gathering time—-

They were getting a tour of the place from the owner. The three of them were considering taking a job as head of promotions for a month. The job entails getting people to spend money at the bar, sign up for tours, and go on pub crawls. Basically, get people to have fun while making sure Q Hao profits.

—staring straight up at the skylight in the atrium—

The three of them are the types for the job. Owen is a sound engineer and DJ back home; Alex is a tattooed, pierced, vegan, yoga practioner who smokes like a chimney; Chris is personable and unassuming (cooler than it sounds). Together they ride around in a van solving island mysteries and promoting parties!

...Ok, I might be lying about the first part, but there’s still time.

They ended up taking the job. They ask me every day at sunset to join in the evening activities that involve heavy drinking and copious spending. I say, “Yeah, yeah... I think so. Sure, why not.” Then I have ice-cream and a shower, get sleepy, and fall asleep early watching YouTube. (May I recommend a chronological compilation of all of Eddie Murphy’s appearances on David Letterman.)

—The hostel’s jacuzzi. ...I’ll type that again, the HOSTEL’S jacuzzi!—-

Maybe my lack of interest has to do with the fact that I went to a party on a private island with them on the first night, got food poisoning from leftover buffet food, and vomited all over the lobby of the five star hotel and on the tour bus that carted us back home.

Yeah, that happened.

We’d been invited by the hostel owner to a really cool five star resort-private island bar that was only reached via a bus and the resort’s water taxi. It was a lot of fun until the vomiting started.

—A beetle I found trapped on its back—

—The beetle startling me when it suddenly showed its wings, in an attempt to turn over—

—Perspective. But consider that my foot is four feet long.—-

You might be surprised to hear this, but blowing chunks everywhere was a wee bit embarrassing. Everyone assumed I was hammered. Yeah, I’d had some drinks, but nothing to warrant turning into a vomitron. It was the kind of emesis that explodes out of you without warning.

Not fun.

—Grilled Barracuda at the restaurant around the corner where I’ve eaten every night—-

It’s crazy, the leftover meat was from a $150 USD buffet. Owen and Alex had hooked themselves up with the food (because they’re the kind of people that get themselves hooked up). Neither ate meat, so they gave that part to me.

Lucky me.

It tasted good on the way down. My compliments to the chef.

I avoided everyone the next day. I ran into the party people in the early evening. They asked how I was feeling and acted like it was no big deal outside of concern for my welfare, once again, proving their coolness. Then they did their best to get me to join them on the pub crawl they were about to go on. I passed.

...Well, back to the grind.

...Think I’ll go take a dip in the ocean. Until next time, caviar wishes and Champagne dreams!

Don’t worry bug lovers, I flipped the beetle over. ...Before I stepped on it. I kid, I kid, I’m a kidder.

!steemitworldmap 10.2002 lat 103.9625 long Vacationing from my vacation on Phu Quoc Island, Vietnam beaches, d3scr