
Lately, I’ve been caught in a quiet kind of busy. The kind that wears you thin and leaves your mind spinning, until all you want is to curl up and drift into sleep, just to stop the overthinking. I came back from our family trip to Côn Đảo with gentle memories, the kind that linger like sea breeze on skin. But somehow, I didn’t feel like writing about it. Maybe I wanted to keep it untouched, or maybe I was just too tired to put it into words. Today, when some friends asked about the trip, I found myself reaching for those memories again. And now, a month later, I think I’m finally ready to share a little piece of that quiet island.
JULY 28
______________
When we landed at Cỏ Ống Airport after the short flight, the island greeted us in a soft, golden light. Everything shimmered in the warmth of the sun. I found myself drifting into old memories — those sweet, sun-soaked summers with my family, when beach trips were a yearly ritual. It had been so long since the last time we chose the ocean over the mountains, so long since I left the city behind to sink into stillness like this. I hoped, quietly, that this summer would feel as full and joyful as the ones I used to know. As I wandered around the airport, waiting for the luggage, the breeze swept in and filled my lungs. In that moment, I felt it — that quiet thrill, like I was waking up again, alive in a way I hadn’t been in a while.
We left the airport and stopped for breakfast before heading to our hotel near An Hải Beach, about fifteen kilometers away. I imagined we’d have time for a little photoshoot by the shore, but check-in came first. Once we arrived, everyone was too tired to explore right away and decided to rest for a few hours. So I picked up my camera and wandered back outside, letting the quiet moments lead me, capturing whatever caught my eye while the island waited for us to wake.![]() |
| An Hải Beach was calm, almost still. When I arrived, it was just me and the sound of the waves. I think there are only two, maybe three resorts nearby — maybe that’s why it feels so untouched. Secluded, quiet, like a secret the island hasn’t told many people yet. |
2:00PM: We began our journey through the island’s past, visiting the historical sites that hold so much sorrow and strength — Phú Hải, Phú Tường, Phú Bình prisons, then the Côn Đảo Museum and nearby temples. As the guide spoke of the resistance and the pain, we stood in quiet reverence, hearts heavy yet proud of the heroes who gave everything in the fight against the invaders. At Phú Bình Prison, I glanced over and saw my mom’s eyes glistening, her tears held tenderly in silence as the guide, with his deeply moving voice, shared a story that stirred us all. I felt the sting in my own eyes too — but somehow, I held it back.
![]() |


![]() |
![]() |
| This place is also known as 'tiger cage' |















After a long day of exploring, we returned to the hotel for dinner, our minds full of the island's stories. The idea of visiting a cemetery at midnight might sound strange, but here, it’s part of the rhythm of life — a sacred ritual. The locals shared that tourists often come at that hour, believing it’s the most powerful time to pray. Offerings are brought to the tomb of Võ Thị Sáu, incense sticks lit at other graves, a quiet reverence filling the air. I arrived at 8:00 PM, too early for the midnight crowds, and the place felt serene, almost lonely, as if it were waiting for something more.
JULY 29
______________



![]() |
| Shark Cape (Mũi Cá Mập) in Con Dao |



![]() |
| The dog I met at Dam Trau beach. |
![]() |
| Dam Trau beach (Đầm Trầu) is the most well-known beach in this island. |
JULY 30
______________
We had our last breakfast at Thien Tân Hotel, savoring the quiet before heading to the airport. Thankfully, we had a direct flight from Côn Đảo to Cần Thơ, sparing us the four-hour drive back from Saigon. It felt like a gentle sigh of relief, the end of the journey arriving with ease.







No comments:
Post a Comment
Comment