For some reason, I was expecting Mui Ne to be the 'Otres Beach' of Vietnam- wooden shacks, ladies selling lobsters etc. So when we saw a line of posh resorts and restaurants, we were a little shocked. This is a little beach resort with big aspirations; Russians and windsurfers are crazy about it. All the craziest windsurfers in the world were there at the same time as us too, for the Windsurfing World Cup. Though thwarting expectations, Mui Ne provided some of the best times on our travels so far. We may not have found the peace of Otres Beach, but we did find our three Finnish pals...
We arrived into Mui Ne around 9pm sleepy and starving, so we dropped our bags off at the only guesthouse not charging us $60 a night, and went in search of food. Stumbling across 'Joe's', a cool Canadian bar with live music, we cruised on in, when we suddenly heard a 'heeeeeey!' We turned, and who should be sitting there but Miko and Pavvo! Crazy that we'd chosen the same bar! An emotional hello replaced the goodbye we never had, and we caught up over a few Saigons (our Vietnamese beer of choice). Yussi was absent due to sleeping off drunkenness; apparently the Three Finnish Musketeers had started drinking at breakfast that day. They needn't have said; I could tell from the playful twinkle in Paavo's eyes! Thus began the inevitable bar crawl, reuniting with Yussi along the way, as well as acquiring a new Finnish friend, Yuuso. The humble seaside restaurant Paavo chose was the perfect place to relax and chat, as well as acquire another friend- a Russian belly dancer named Keira. She came to Mui Ne to visit friends, but is now looking for belly dancing work in restaurants in Saigon! Just like that, a friendship group was born, and we all made drunken promises to meet the next day to head to the sand dunes- a big attraction in Mui Ne. Highlight of the evening: Paavo answering every question by saying 'Ho Chi Minh' in a booming voice, then giggling wildly!
Patrick and I took a morning walk on the beach the following day, where we were mesmerized by dozens of kites from kitesurfers swooping the air, and almost decapitated by the kites' strings as the surfers came back into shore. Lovely beach, though most of it is now eroding away. Then it was time to meet the gang...surprisingly, everybody had remembered the plans, and woken up sans hangover! Result! After reminding Paavo of what we were actually doing today (all I'd got out of him last night was 'Ho Chi Minh'), our group of seven went to search for a taxi. Luckily, we found one to fit all seven of us, and headed to the dunes to Vietnamese dance tunes (didn't mean for that to rhyme!), stopping at a quaint little fishing village en route. I didn't expect the cluster of cafes we found at the dune entrance, but the boys were happy to pick up a few cold brewskies. Also, a visit to the dunes wouldn't be complete without a 30 second ride on the back of an ostrich, would it? I tell you what, it may not be able to fly, but for a big lumbering bird, it sure runs bloody fast...
We walked 500m through the tourist area, and suddenly all we could see was dunes. Sand-boards bought from local kids in hand, we trudged up the soft sand-hills. Suddenly all there was in the world was the sand in front of me, as my lungs swelled to the furthest corners of the dunes. There's a pure, powerful beauty to sand-dunes: refreshing simplicity in a complicated world. Their peace cannot be touched or tormented by tourists; the latter somehow seem negligible against the endless, perfect undulations.
No sooner had we reached the top, than the boys slid down to the bottom on their sand-boards. They'd then climb back up the steep, sliding dunes, panting at the top for a few minutes...before tumbling back down again. I tried a spot of sand-boarding, but seemed to crawling rather than sliding down...apparently I had my elbows stuck into the sand the whole way! Whoops! The only downside was the occasional slaps of sand on my face from the sharp winds; washing all that sand off later on was difficult in our dribbling excuse of a shower.
That didn't put us off too much though, and we stayed for 3 hours, the last tourists left on the dunes at sunset. As we watched the red sun sink behind the curves, drinking some 'wodka' (Finnish pronounciation- love it!) and singing Yussi's full name, both Paavo and Pat declared sand-dunes to be their 'second home'. I can see how these dunes invite such feeling. They're like a blank slate, primitive, a fresh start, a chance to be yourself and feel completely at home. Heading back to Mui Ne, Patrick and I were happy, happy, happy, dancing to the taxi's tunes and singing an ingenious remix of 'Yussi Makinat' and 'Ho Chi Minh'.
That evening, we met back in our favourite Russian store-cum-cafe, before making our way back to Joe's. In spite of waiting an hour for our bill (frustrating, but hey, I've waitressed- I know the perils of understaffing!) and Patrick being blind for 5 minutes from leftover sand, we had good times- carried over to our favourite seaside restaurant with its 10,000 dong beers (50 cents, 30p). Unfortunately, the drinking benders over the last week with the Finnish dudes finally got to Pat and I, the old fogies that we are, so we called it an early night. It was sad to leave genuinely good friends who have the same traveling outlook, but I know it won't be the last time we see them.....we'll probably bump into them again up the coast! We're in Dalat right now, but heading off tomorrow: see the next post for more details...
