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I glance to the right side of the road where the sun glitters off the South China Sea and a line of small fishing boats like soup bowls strung together bobs in the distance. But a look left distracts me – a dangerous thing on a motorbike in Vietnam. I roll to a stop in the sandy shoulder as traffic goes honking past. Sand dunes rise away from the road, rippled like a puddle in a gust of wind, and colored a deep red as if transported from Mars. A four-hour train ride from Saigon brought me a world away from the Vietnam of history textbooks and worn-out war movies. Farther along the coast the dunes fade suddenly to white and yellow interrupted here and there by unlikely green spaces – even some mangroves – and a few titanium mining operations. Tucked between desert-like dunes and the sea, Mui Ne and the coastline of its province of Binh Thuan go from “laidback” to “meditative” the deeper one explores.
 Throughout human history celestial events have been seen as harbingers of big things to come. In the case of Mui Ne it was a solar eclipse and the matter of note was the birth of area tourism. On October 24, 1995, thousands came to the beach leading up to this southeastern fishing village. Travelers looked up for the eclipse and but what lay beneath their feet didn’t go unnoticed. Light-colored sand and sizzling surf stretch for kilometers in either direction. Fourteen years later what started as a small oasis for backpackers along this road between the provincial seat Phan Thiet and the village of Mui Ne has grown into a 10-kilometer tourist strip, with hotels, resorts and guesthouses on the beach side, and restaurants, souvenir shops and even some high-end jewelry dealers opposite. No buildings rise much higher than the coconut palms interspersed between them so despite development something quaint remains about the place. The laidback backpacker vibe still dominates even as families with children, moneyed professionals and adventure travelers stroll along the strip at dinner time.
I decide to do Mui Ne in style and check into a smart bungalow at the four-star Blue Ocean Resort, a spacious property set at the edge of the beach and one of a few places that has a swimming pool. In the shade of a thatch umbrella I watch the waves break on the beach which runs from east to west, ideal for both sunrise and sunset. The beach is clean and not a hawker is in sight.
Mui Ne’s proximity to Ho Chi Minh City is noteworthy, but what makes it ideal for a beach vacation is its microclimate. Being in the tropical south brings the perfect temperatures of course, and while the north often takes some daily rain during the monsoon season from May to as late as November, the combination of trade winds and rising dry heat off the dunes keep Mui Ne in sunshine even through most of June and July. The nearly constant winds, in fact, fuel two of Mui Ne’s most popular recreation activities: windsurfing and kiteboarding. From where I sit I can see WindChimes next door, one of over 20 area wind-sport schools and outfitters. Out in the undulating blue and turquoise, kiteboarders crisscross with each other and the occasional fishing vessel while the outfitter’s “beach boys” (and girls) await them on the sand to assist with the kites when they return to shore. WindChimes gets as many CEOs as backpackers these days.
 Those same waves stock the local menus. Mui Ne’s abundant seafood originates a stone’s throw from where it is being cooked at sidewalk grills or mom and pop restaurants. But contrast these eateries with the upscale sushi bar Snow and its glass-block bar backlit blue and air-conditioned seating and it seems Mui Ne is picking up a bit of chic. The uber-hip Sankara welcomes guests with torches and reflecting pools into an open-air lounge with sexy lighting and cabana-style cushioned sitting areas. Its two bars, lit up red, serve pricey cocktails as moody club music sets the tone. Not my thing this week. I ride down the road until I see a smoking grill propped up on the back of a lifeguard’s rescue board next to a scattering of tables and a tilting shack with a piece of corrugated tin for a roof. Fresh sea critters wiggle around in a couple of buckets of water and an old aquarium all hooked up with a slim bubbling air hose, the seafood equivalent of an IV. The road is five feet from where I sit, while the beach is another 15 feet the other direction. No shade, no music, no uber-anything -- just the sound of the surf and the taste of its bounty.
See more photos of local life on my Mui Ne blog post
Despite the tourists and the increased prices that come with them, local life carries on much as it was. Travelers refer to the entire strip as Mui Ne but in fact that is the name of an active fishing village. Colorful boats fill the harbor and bowl-shaped reed boats are turned over in the sand. The next day I take the motorbike down a rock-strewn street to the water where the men and women of the village inspect their nets and hack some more reeds to repair their boats. Back out on the main street, a woman navigates an old wooden cart pulled by two oxen. An impatient bus driver gives a blast of his horn but she doesn’t seem to notice or care. As I pass, children on the way home from school shout in unison as though rehearsed that morning, “Hellooooo!”
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