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Arriving on Phu Quoc, I expected a sleepy tropical island. The airport, the resort shuttles and the enormous roadside developments suggested somebody had forgotten to inform Phu Quoc of that plan.
I checked into Soul Boutique Hotel Phu Quoc, a small modern hotel near Long Beach, spotless, comfortable and refreshingly quiet, with enough thoughtful touches that it never felt anonymous the way a large resort often does. It supplied a beach bag, towels and flip-flops, which meant an accommodation provider had correctly anticipated that I would arrive with everything except the items most useful on an island. Soul Boutique sits away from central Duong Dong, close enough to reach town by Grab, but far enough that nobody was trying to sell me a pearl necklace while I ate breakfast.
A Beach, Then a Bicycle, Then a Hill
I walked onto the beach before unpacking. Calm water, pale sand, almost nobody around. I forgave the journey immediately, then unpacked later by placing everything on the nearest chair, continuing a travel system perfected across more than 60 countries.
I borrowed one of the hotel’s bicycles. The first ten minutes were delightful. The eleventh introduced a hill, and I remembered, not for the first time, that islands enjoy withholding this information until you are already committed.
Duong Dong After Dark
Duong Dong Night Market after sunset meant seafood, souvenirs, grilled snacks, ice cream rolls and enough fluorescent lighting to guide aircraft safely towards the island. A restaurant displayed live seafood in tanks and invited me to select dinner personally; I prefer my meals to arrive without a prior introduction, though I did try grilled sea urchin with spring onion oil, which looked like something recovered from the seabed during a police investigation and tasted rich and surprisingly good.
At Nora’s Cafe the next morning, relaxed and friendly, exactly the kind of place where a solo traveller can occupy a table without staff repeatedly removing the spare place setting in a manner suggesting personal tragedy, I tried bun quay, one of the island’s best-known dishes: noodles and seafood served with a dipping sauce customers mix themselves. My sauce required lime, sugar, salt, chilli and rather more confidence than I had brought to lunch, and I stirred enthusiastically until the waiter intervened with the expression of a man watching someone assemble furniture incorrectly. The finished sauce was excellent. I accepted full credit.
Ong Lang, Where Nothing Much Happens On Purpose
A Grab north towards Ong Lang Beach delivered somewhere considerably quieter than the central beach areas, golden sand, palms, and far fewer people competing to photograph the same sunset. I spent the afternoon doing very little, which included swimming, reading two pages and turning over occasionally so the sun could damage me evenly. A beach seller passed once, accepted my polite refusal, and continued walking. I briefly considered extending my stay indefinitely.
Phu Quoc is larger than it appears on a map. Attractions described as nearby often require thirty or forty minutes in a car, because islands enjoy making distance look decorative.
A Cable Car Across Eight Kilometres of Sea
The Hon Thom cable car from An Thoi travels nearly 7.9 kilometres across the water and is recognised as the world’s longest three-wire cable car, the fifteen-minute journey providing wide views across fishing boats, islands and the southern coastline. The cabin left the station smoothly. I looked down, saw the sea an unreasonable distance below, and developed an immediate interest in the floor. Eventually I looked outside. The views were extraordinary, tiny fishing boats dotted across water more peaceful than anything connected to a theme park has any right to be.
Hon Thom itself turned out to be a large leisure complex: nature had provided the island, mankind had added waterslides and a gift shop. I declined the more adventurous water rides, having already crossed eight kilometres of ocean in a box suspended from wires, and felt my contribution to excitement was complete.
Sunset Town and an Island That Changes Character Without Warning
Sunset Town in the south offered Mediterranean-style buildings, elaborate plazas and landmarks built on a scale suggesting somebody had been handed both an island and an unlimited stationery budget. It was visually impressive, polished and slightly surreal, and I watched the sun drop behind the sea near Kiss Bridge feeling less like I was in Vietnam and more like I had wandered into a European theme park before the actors arrived. Whatever one thinks of the development, Phu Quoc knows how to organise an evening sky.
Back in Duong Dong, Saigonese Eatery offered Vietnamese ingredients presented in a modern way without turning dinner into a chemistry experiment, dining alone easy, the staff attentive without appearing worried I had been stood up. I ordered fish with local pepper, which has a warm, aromatic heat that arrives politely and then refuses to leave, and later visited a pepper farm in the countryside, rows of green vines climbing tall wooden supports, black, red and white pepper produced through different harvesting and processing methods. By the third tasting I could no longer feel my lips but continued nodding knowledgeably, and bought two bags as gifts and one for myself, because apparently visiting a farm transforms ordinary seasoning into an important cultural purchase.
Bai Sao and the Gap Between Photographs and Reality
Bai Sao, regularly promoted for its white sand and turquoise water, was genuinely beautiful, though several sections were busier and more commercial than the deserted photographs online had implied. Travel photography remains remarkably skilled at asking everyone else to step aside. I paid for a sunbed beneath a palm tree leaning slightly towards the water, creating the relaxing sensation that I might eventually slide into Cambodia, and stayed far longer than intended because returning to the beach meant standing up.
A southern-island snorkelling trip around the An Thoi Archipelago offered reasonable visibility, though some areas showed signs of pressure from heavy tourism; choosing operators who avoid damaging coral and don’t encourage visitors to stand on reefs matters here as much as anywhere. Lunch appeared aboard the boat from a kitchen whose dimensions would have made preparing a sandwich challenging, and I ate everything, sea air turning even modest exercise into an appetite normally associated with agricultural labour.
A Sobering Hour, and a Necessary One
Phu Quoc Prison History Museum describes brutal treatment suffered by prisoners during the war, through reconstructed cells and graphic displays. This was not somewhere for humour or casual sightseeing; it required time and respect. I walked out into bright sunshine afterwards feeling unsettled, and stopped for coffee mostly because I needed somewhere quiet to process what I had seen. It is strange how an island associated with resorts and beach holidays can also carry such a painful history, and I think it is worth visiting precisely because the two sit so close together.
Fish Sauce, Fermented for a Year, Carried Home Under Duress
A traditional fish-sauce producer in Duong Dong keeps enormous wooden barrels of anchovies and salt fermenting for at least a year, the smell announcing the building before Google Maps did. I listened to the guide explain protein levels and fermentation while breathing strategically, bought a bottle, and immediately realised carrying fish sauce in checked luggage requires a level of optimism normally associated with experimental aviation. I wrapped it inside three plastic bags and surrounded it with clothing I was prepared never to wear again.
Dinh Cau, Ham Ninh, and the Island’s Quieter Register
Dinh Cau Temple, a small shrine on a rocky outcrop beside the mouth of the Duong Dong River associated with protection for local fishermen, offered manageable steps, lovely sea views and, refreshingly, no water park beside it. I watched fishing boats move in and out of the river as the sky changed colour, one of those quiet moments that doesn’t require commentary, before returning ten minutes later to the night market, where commentary was supplied at maximum volume.
Ham Ninh fishing village offered boats, seafood restaurants and everyday island life beyond the major resorts, though development has changed parts of the area considerably. I ate steamed crab overlooking the water, which arrived with tools, sauce and no practical instructions, and spent twenty minutes dismantling it for approximately one tablespoon of food; delicious, but a poor return on manual labour. Sim wine, made from local rose myrtle fruit, proved sweet, fruity and deceptively harmless, the sort of drink that introduces itself as juice before stealing your afternoon.
The North, and What Development Has Not Quite Erased
A trip towards the northern part of the island revealed forest, quieter roads and patches of coastline showing that Phu Quoc’s older character has not disappeared completely, parts of it belonging to a rainforest-rich national park even as rapid resort development alters the wider landscape. I saw roadside rubbish in a few areas, which against tropical scenery looks particularly unforgivable, and Grand World, in the north, an entire complex of artificial canals and brightly coloured buildings that was spotless, ambitious and not remotely what I had imagined when someone first described this as an island escape. I took one photograph of the canal that accidentally made it look as though I had visited Venice after a particularly thorough repaint. I considered VinWonders, saw the size of the theme park, and decided I had already experienced sufficient wonder through cable cars and seafood pricing.
Where to Stay
I stayed at Soul Boutique Hotel Phu Quoc and would recommend it without hesitation: clean, quiet, close to Long Beach, with access to a sister resort’s pools and beach club that meant a change of scenery without changing hotels. If you would rather compare booking platforms first, my Agoda vs Booking.com comparison covers exactly that, or you can browse directly through Agoda.
Getting Around
Grab is convenient around the developed areas, though availability thins out farther north or late at night, and one driver arrived wearing a jacket, gloves and a face covering despite the heat while I wore a linen shirt and immediate regret. I rode on the back of a motorbike along the coast once too: beautiful views, cooling air, and several opportunities to reconsider the wisdom of loose-fitting trousers. Phu Quoc’s roads are generally less intimidating than central Hanoi, but dogs, potholes, construction vehicles and sudden patches of gravel provide their own entertainment.
A Few Practical Basics
Phu Quoc has its own international airport with direct connections from Hanoi, Ho Chi Minh City and a growing number of international routes, which makes it an easy add-on to a wider Vietnam trip. British passport holders can currently enter Vietnam visa-free for up to 45 days, though it is always worth checking current requirements before booking. The dry and wet seasons matter here; beach photographs taken under blue skies do not constitute a legally binding weather guarantee, and a sudden tropical downpour can turn a road into a river for twenty minutes before sunshine returns as though nothing happened.
A local eSIM sorted before arrival remains just as useful here as anywhere else, and I still rely on Airalo’s Vietnam eSIM, reviewed in full in my Airalo eSIM review. Snorkelling trips and the cable car are easy to book ahead through GetYourGuide Vietnam or Viator Vietnam, and travel insurance that explicitly covers snorkelling is worth checking before you go, while my Vietnam packing guide covers what actually earns its place for a trip mixing beach days with humid interior roads.
Why It Works
Phu Quoc works particularly well when the itinerary stays modest: breakfast, one outing, swimming, a cafe, rest, sunset. I tried scheduling three attractions into one day once and ended up spending most of it inside cars; islands punish ambition through geography. For a mature solo traveller, I would prioritise a peaceful hotel with easy beach access and use Grab for specific outings rather than staying directly inside the busiest part of town. The island felt safe enough for solo wandering throughout, with the same normal care sensible at markets, on isolated roads and when using transport late at night applying here as anywhere. It makes a natural, easy-to-reach addition to a wider itinerary alongside Nha Trang or Da Lat, offering a completely different, beach-resort register from either, and rounding out a Vietnam trip that might also take in Ho Chi Minh City or the limestone karsts of Ha Long Bay further north.
Would I Recommend Phu Quoc?
Without much hesitation, though with the same fair warning I would give anyone expecting an untouched island. Phu Quoc is developing rapidly, occasionally messily, and at a scale that can feel bewildering, yet quiet beaches, fishing communities, pepper farms, forest roads and simple local meals still exist between the resorts and the constructed fantasy towns. I arrived expecting one island and found at least six competing versions of it. My favourite version involved coffee, an empty stretch of sand, and absolutely nobody announcing the start of a multimedia show.
A note on how I write: Every trip starts with a journal, filled in wherever I happen to be; on a bus, plane, train, or in a backstreet cafe that has clearly seen better days. It’s not tidy, and it’s not always legible even to me. When I get the time, I use AI to help turn those notes into something readable, organising drafts and occasionally rescuing a sentence that has wandered off without me. The experiences, the perspective, the humour and every editorial decision remain entirely mine. As for the photos, I’m not remotely fond of having my picture taken, family portraits included, so I also use AI to help visualise the places and moments I write about.
