Bà Nà Hills and Hội An: The cost of luxury

I have always loved the ocean.

I love looking at it, smelling it, touching it. Everything. While I’m not the best swimmer, I don’t surf, I have sailed… I’m so content just being near it. When I was younger, I swore I would never live in a landlocked place. No Nebraska or Idaho or any other place where borders would suffocate me. Since then, I’ve made it a personal goal to touch the Pacific Ocean from the different coasts that surround it.

Da Nang is now one of those coasts.

Uncle Dad called us early (6 AM) to remind us about breakfast. Since we were already up, we figured we’d head down to view the sunrise. Elderly people were on the beach exercising, children splashing before the sun got too high, and Uncle Dad on his morning walk. The water was cool and refreshing, a contrast from the gentle humidity in the air. The beach has always been free and fun way to cool down. You don’t need fancy equipment; some children and parents just swam in their underwear. It was available almost all day for people to interact with it however they wanted to.

It’s a good time to say I’ve always resented private beaches. The ocean is something to share and to love, not to restrain and hoard. I don’t think we should restrict access to beautiful places. Like beaches, people should be able to visit them to create fun, take a break, and be inspired. To keep that for yourself is selfish.

Ironically, we visited a place called Bà Nà Hills on this day. Originally built for French colonizers in the 1900s, it’s now a theme park built on top of the Trường Sơn Mountains near Da Nang. The drive there was beautiful. I admired the mountains’ faces streaked with dirt as we took a tram/gondola/cable car up the mountains. What are those things called anyway? All those names are right and feel wrong.

Bà Nà Hills is an amusement park run by Sun World, with games, some rides, and Instagram picture locations. Auntie Mom visited with her sisters before and she loved it. Despite the direct sunlight, the altitude gave us a break from the sticky heat now present on Da Nang’s shores. It felt like Disneyland, with an almost identical castle.

Like Disneyland, all kinds of people visited Bà Nà Hills.

There were foreigners like us, but most of the visitors were Vietnamese people from across the country. This trip could have been their first after years of savings, the first vacation they ever had. That’s worth celebrating. I shared their awe, but perhaps with different reasons. What kind of work and resources did it take to build these structures on the top of a mountain? What does it feel like to be above the trees for the first time, without having to hike it? In the excitement, some people bumped into each other or tried to cut lines. Just like any other theme park.

Tam and me telling our parents to stay put.

We spent a few more hours in Bà Nà Hills and visited a temple that was built up there. I sassed a tourist who was surprised she walked into our parents’ photo. She was more surprised we spoke English than she was about the sass.

Her: You want the whole shrine?
Me: Uhhhh, yeah.
Her: Gosh, sor-RY.

We took a break in a coffee shop and watched the cool mist dance across the mountain tops. When we were ready to head down, the tram/gondola/cable car we originally rode up went out of commission. A large tour group trailed us, heading in the same direction. We all knew what we had to do.

Our family walked faster towards the other station. Our tour guide saw our increased speed, saw the large group, and laughed as we all power-walked to the nearest cable car station. If we got caught behind them, we’d never leave.

Singular pink tree in the mountains.

We heard the crowd before they arrived, and luckily were able to catch a tram all the way down without interference. I admired the mountains, darkened by the rain, for last time. I watched the mists hug the treetops before they dissipated in the lower, warmer foothills. We even noticed a singular pink tree in the mountain. I don’t know what kind of tree it was or why there was only one, but that was a marvel in itself.

A statue built into a cave at the top of a small mountain or large hill.

We visited a temple after the amusement park. It had a freestanding elevator connected to the top of a small mountain, alternately, a tall hill. Of course, if you wanted to use it, you had to pay. This time we did, there was more of this small mountain to walk. We followed the stone paths and through protected trees, exploring the shrine of a ruler’s beloved sister. We entered an unassuming cave, walked down well-maintained stone steps, and were greeted by an expansive cave with a 20-foot statue. Our whispers echoed through the cave and dripping water filled any silence. This was one of Tam’s favorite stops. 

Later that night, we visited Hội An. It used to be the business center of the region and Japanese traders once lived at this historical site. The town was so charming, even with all the “touristy” activities. I wish we could have seen it in the daytime.

On the drive back, we all saw the newer and empty luxury hotels that lined Da Nang’s coast. Across of many of them were empty lots or smaller shacks of the people whose homes weren’t bought out for development. Our tour guide said that a lot of Korean tourists visit here because it’s cheaper to fly here than Jeju Island in their own country. We had seen many of them at the breakfast buffet. In that way, it’s not so different from Western tourists visiting because their dollars and Euros can buy more. I also thought about the tourists at Bà Nà Hills. Would locals be eventually priced out of their own entertainment? Would they be unable to experience their beautiful homes in new ways?

I hope not, but all I can do is wonder.