On a good day, Vietnam’s southern coastline, with its emeraldy waters, bears striking resemblance to the South of France—somewhere between Côte d’Azur and Antibes for those with fertile imagination. At Cam Ranh, a seaside resort town, the pace is languid; the vibe akin to an actor on the cusp of stardom. But Cam Ranh isn’t only good for its beaches and luxury resorts such as The Anam and just-caught lobsters. Its international airport is also the starting point of any south-to-central Vietnam grand tour. So, as our group made its way to the adjacent town of Nha Trang, the ‘real’ part of the trip began.
We literally huddled on tiny stools at the pejoratively quaint Nha Trang Railway Station, a French colonial structure that hasn’t changed much since the time of colonial Catherine Deneuve-type characters totting along with their monogrammed coffre à valises. Our bunch of international journalists wasn’t at the station to imbibe nostalgia, however. We were here to catch Anantara’s latest product, The Vietage—a railway car styled with turn-of-the-last-century romanticism and reimagined luxury, the latter of which came in delightful flutes of chilled Taittinger, served at the station master’s enclave. Our journey that day would take us on a half-day trip from Nha Trang to Quy Nhon onboard the Reunification Express, of which The Vietage’s single carriage is composed.
Onboard, the 12-seater carriage, with its Indochinese heritage-y elements of cane-seating, rattan partitioning, along with a sleek bar section, is best described as a friendly meeting of old and new luxury. The straight-backed seats, resembling something one would find at a fine-dining restaurant, would definitely be of the old world variant. But it’s The Vietage’s team, comprising well-trained, fresh-back-from-Canada staff, who added a definite sense of internationalism to what was essentially a regional train route. The menu, too, with its never-ending glasses of bubbly and dishes—such as foie gras terrine and duck confit, wagyu neck, and delightful creme brulee and Dong Nai chocolate—ticked all the right foodie boxes.
Beyond lunch, a carefully thought out tropically influenced cocktail list included inventive libations such as the Blow off Steam made from tequila, Cointreau, hibiscus syrup, and fresh lime juice, served in a glass rimmed with pink salt. Equally delicious was The Vietmojito, a blend of Sampan Rhum, floral liquor, butterfly pea tea, fresh ginger, and lemongrass.
Our trip to Quy Nhon took nearly eight hours after a late start from Nha Trang. This was more than enough time to taste The Vietage’s afternoon tea ‘tower’ as well. Expect Opera cakes, passionfruit eclairs, and savoury items such as Coronation Hmong chicken, Gravlax and avocado, as well as banh mi (we were in Vietnam, after all) with pork cold cuts, chicken liver pâté, and pickled carrots. As the views outside shifted from glittery shorelines to verdurous farmlands (everything grows better in Vietnam), so too did the food and wine served.
One of the highlights was the local and French cheese selection comprising Vietnamese camembert, moc chau tomme, smoked scarmoza, French mimolette, and St-Nectaire, all of which paid homage to the gods of French dairy. Served along with the cheeses were a charcuterie selection that included Iberico jambon, salami, and chorizo accompanied with crackers, piquant gherkins, tasty olives, mustard, and delightful fig jam.
We were all steeped in a general food coma as the carriage pulled into Quy Nhon Railway Station later that evening. Ambling along train tracks, there was definitely a sense of change in the air, compared to our morning in Nha Trang. The mood here seemed more serious and less tongue-in-cheek. Or maybe our late arrival meant that the sense of buzziness one usually finds at transportation centres had already checked out for the day.
Our home for the next three nights was the Anantara Quy Nhon Villas, a boujee 25-room resort interspersed, among heavy foliage, between a vast stretch of beach and one of the town’s major transport arteries. Here, the shoreline is the star of the show—villas have sea-front access, some with private pools, and all embody the charm of hideaway boltholes, designed for people who want to get away from it all.
Villas here, possibly conceptualised and designed at Minor Hotel’s Ekkamai headquarters in Bangkok, are part-beach sanctuary and part-home-away-from-home. Expect Anantara’s signature Vetiver soaps, excellent bedding featuring a commendable mattress topper, and thoughtful housekeeping touches. The nightly turndown, with its mini notes and gifts, are always a fun addition. And, as with the food and drinks served on The Vietage, the meals at the resort (both have the same chef) make the most of local ingredients channelled with considerable confidence, often hard to replicate Occidental delicacies including caviar, lobster, and the previously mentioned cheeses.
At Sea. Fire. Salt, the resort’s sole restaurant, guests get to sample—and often learn how to cook—tasty Vietnamese dishes. To the observant, useful tricks such as adding a dollop of peanut butter to a spicy octopus stir fry can make all the difference between ‘edible’ and ‘give me more’. To complement the cooking classes, an excursion that ferries guests to one of Quy Nhon’s busiest local markets can be an experience for those curious about (look away when stall owners sever heads of snakes) daily life in a town in the middle of Vietnam. If that’s too sobering, self-soothing with thoughts of an afternoon dip in your villa’s private pool might just do the trick.
Photography: Anantara
