VIETNAM - DA NANG - EVENING WALK TO DA NANG BEACH

Assalamualaikum and may peace be upon you.

As we stepped into the arrivals hall of Danang International Airport, familiar faces greeted us. Our Tour Leader, Rozana, was already waiting - her presence a comforting continuity. She had guided my wife and me through Eastern Europe back in 2018, and we never imagined we would meet her again here in Vietnam. The reunion felt like a thread of memory woven unexpectedly into the present journey.

This time, we had chosen the ease of a group tour package, and our travels across Vietnam would be by bus. The vehicle, a spacious 44‑seater, carried only 20 of us, which meant comfort and freedom - each traveler with their own seat, no need to share, space enough to settle into the rhythm of the road.

Our local guide introduced herself with a warm smile. Yuni, petite yet confident, spoke to us fluently in Indonesian. Though Vietnamese by birth, she had studied in Indonesia and mastered the language, which flowed easily into our ears. For us, it was perfect - Bahasa Malaysia and Indonesian are close cousins, and her words felt familiar, bridging cultures with ease. Alongside her was our bus driver, Ring, a quiet Vietnamese man whose steady hands would carry us safely through the roads of Central Vietnam.

Yet, as we left the airport, the skies opened. Heavy rain poured down, drumming against the bus windows, blurring the scenery we had hoped to admire. The coastline, the city streets, the green hills - all hidden behind sheets of water. 

It was a reminder that travel is not always about perfect views, but about embracing the journey as it comes. The rain, though relentless, became part of our story - our first impression of Danang wrapped in silver mist and the sound of falling water.

Even though it was already quite late when we arrived in Danang, our group was still taken for lunch at the Halal Food Karim Restaurant. This well‑known establishment has earned a strong reputation among travelers for its Halal Vietnamese and Malaysian dishes, generous portion sizes, and warm hospitality.

The atmosphere was welcoming from the moment we stepped inside. The staff greeted us with smiles and spoke Malay fluently, which immediately made us feel at home. For Malaysian travelers, this familiarity was comforting - it bridged the distance between home and abroad, turning a simple meal into a cultural connection.

The dishes reflected both tradition and care: flavorful, well‑seasoned, and clearly prepared with attention to detail. The blend of Vietnamese culinary style with Malaysian favorites created a harmony of taste that suited our group perfectly. It was more than just food - it was a reminder that travel is not only about sights and landscapes, but also about the flavors that carry memory and belonging.

The food at Halal Food Karim Restaurant was delicious and truly suited our Malaysian taste buds. Each dish carried both familiarity and discovery, blending Vietnamese culinary style with flavors we know and love:

🔹Deep‑fried whole fish dressed in a tangy sweet and sour sauce, crisp on the outside yet tender within.

🔹Braised chicken simmered in a soy and ginger‑based sauce, fragrant and comforting.

🔹Vietnamese‑style omelette with spring onions, simple yet full of flavor.

🔹Vegetable soup with spring onions, light and refreshing.

🔹Stir‑fried mixed vegetables, colorful and crunchy, balancing the meal with freshness.

🔹Steamed white rice, the perfect canvas for every dish.

🔹Fried mantou, golden and crisp outside, soft inside - a delightful contrast.

🔹Fresh plums, a sweet and cooling finish to the feast.

The flavors were well‑seasoned, hearty, and clearly prepared with care. For us, it felt like home - Malaysian tastes echoed in Vietnamese kitchens, reminding us that food is a universal language of comfort. Even the vegetarian dishes prepared for some of our Hindu companions were praised for their taste, showing the restaurant’s thoughtful hospitality.

After lunch at Halal Food Karim Restaurant, our journey continued by bus. To lighten the mood, our local guide Yuni began teaching us a few simple words in Vietnamese. The first was “ngong”, meaning delicious. We burst into laughter because in Malay, “ngong” sounds like dim‑witted. So when Yuni asked how we found the lunch, we cheerfully replied “ngong!” - a word that carried two very different meanings depending on which language you spoke.

The second word was “no”, which in Vietnamese means full. Again, hilarity followed. When Yuni asked if we were full after lunch, the entire bus chorused “No!” - which in English sounded like we were denying fullness, when in fact we were completely satisfied.

The bus filled with laughter, the kind that breaks down barriers and turns strangers into companions. These playful exchanges reminded us that language is not only about communication, but also about connection. Misunderstandings became moments of joy, and every word learned was a step closer to Vietnam’s rhythm.

For our four nights in Danang, we stayed at the Alyssa Hotel, a modest three‑star property that proved more than adequate for our needs. Travel, after all, is lived mostly outside the hotel walls - on tours, in streets, among landscapes and people. The hotel was our place of rest, a clean and comfortable retreat at the end of each day.

Choosing a vacation package with accommodations like Alyssa Hotel was also part of our careful balance. We are always mindful of how much we spend on each trip, especially now as we consider two more vacations next year. Comfort need not mean extravagance; adequacy, when paired with thoughtful planning, becomes its own kind of luxury.

In the rhythm of travel, the hotel was not the centerpiece but the backdrop - a place to rest, to reflect, and to prepare for the next day’s discoveries. It was enough, and in its simplicity, it supported the richness of the journey beyond its doors.

Yuni helped with the group checked-in.

Views from the hotel's lobby.

We were quite delighted when we entered our room at the Alyssa Hotel. It was sufficiently spacious, with a big bed, two large windows with curtains - something we always value highly - along with all the essential amenities expected of a hotel stay. The bathroom was huge and even had a window, while the air‑conditioning unit worked perfectly, ensuring comfort after long days of touring.

While these features may seem standard, we were genuinely grateful. Past experiences have taught us that not every hotel room meets expectations, and sometimes the smallest details can make a difference.

That said, my wife and I have long agreed: we will never let such imperfections ruin our travels. Complaining and getting upset only drains energy and kills the mood. Our approach is simple - no fuss, no muss. If something isn’t right, we call reception, get it sorted, and move on. Nothing is perfect, and part of travel is learning to adapt, to make do with what we have under the circumstances.

The main thing is to protect the joy of the journey. A vacation should never be spoiled by small inconveniences. Instead, we choose gratitude, resilience, and the reminder that the true treasures of travel lie outside the hotel walls - in the places we explore, the people we meet, and the memories we carry home.

From the windows, the view stretched across Danang city, framed by the mountains rising in the distance. It was a reminder that even in moments of pause, beauty finds its way in - quietly, through a skyline, through the silhouette of peaks against the sky.

From our hotel room window, I managed to zoom in and capture the distant silhouette of the Sơn Trà Radar Station, perched high atop Son Tra Peak. Rising 621 meters above sea level and about 14 kilometers from Danang’s city center, the station stood like a watchful guardian over the coastline.

Nicknamed the “Indochina God’s Eye”, the radar station is more than just a military installation. Managed by the H90 and 375 divisions, it serves as an observatory for aviation, air force, and navy operations. With a visibility radius of up to 300 kilometers, it can monitor airspace stretching between Dong Hoi and Buon Ma Thuot cities. After the Vietnamese Army assumed control, it was renamed Rada 29, and today it continues its role in radar airspace surveillance.

Yet beyond its strategic importance, the station has also become a popular tourist attraction. Visitors who make the climb are rewarded with fresh mountain air and sweeping views of the coastline - an outlook that captures both the natural beauty of Danang and the enduring presence of its guardianship.

From afar, through the lens of my camera, the station appeared almost symbolic: a reminder of how landscapes carry layers of meaning. It was at once a technological sentinel and a scenic landmark, bridging defense and discovery, vigilance and wonder.

From our hotel room window, I first noticed what seemed to be a tiny white figure nestled at the base of the mountain. Curious, I zoomed in with my camera, and the “tiny” figure revealed itself as the majestic Lady Buddha statue - a towering presence that dominates the Son Tra Peninsula skyline.

Standing at 67 meters (220 feet), the Lady Buddha is the tallest Buddha statue in Vietnam. She represents the Bodhisattva of Mercy (Guanyin), known locally as Quan Âm, a figure of compassion and protection. The statue is part of the Linh Ung Pagoda complex, about 10 kilometers from the city center, and has become one of Da Nang’s most iconic landmarks.

Inside the statue are 17 floors, each housing altars and different Buddha images. Visitors who climb upward are rewarded not only with spiritual encounters but also with sweeping views of the coastline and the city below.

For locals, the Lady Buddha is more than a monument. She is a guardian spirit, believed to shield Da Nang from storms and natural disasters, and a symbol of peace and compassion for fishermen and residents alike.

After settling in and resting for a while, we looked out from our hotel room windows and noticed that the rain had finally stopped. The clouds had lifted, leaving behind a freshness in the air, and the afternoon felt open with possibility. With plenty of free time ahead, my wife and I decided it was the perfect moment to take a leisurely walk to Danang Beach, located just about 700 meters down the road in front of the Alyssa Hotel.

Before our departure to Danang, we had already checked the maps once we received confirmation of our hotel. Discovering that Alyssa Hotel was so close to the beach gave us a quiet thrill - we knew that if free time allowed, we would make that short walk and enjoy the shoreline. And that afternoon, with the rain gone and the sky clearing, it felt like the best time to do so.

To reach Danang Beach from the Alyssa Hotel, we strolled along D. Dinh Nghe street, a path that carried more than just traffic and daily life. Its name is rooted in history, associated with the Duong Dinh Nghe temple, which honors one of Vietnam’s revered heroes from the Thanh land.

Duong Dinh Nghe was a prominent figure in Vietnam’s struggle for independence, remembered for his military leadership and contributions to the nation’s freedom. The temple dedicated to him stands as a spiritual site, reflecting the deep gratitude of the people and their enduring respect for his legacy.

Walking down this street, we felt a quiet connection between past and present. What seemed at first a simple route to the beach became a passage through memory and heritage. The everyday bustle of shops and homes was layered with meaning, reminding us that in Vietnam, even the streets carry stories - threads of history woven into the fabric of modern life.

Our walk toward Danang Beach took us through D. Dinh Nghe street, a corridor that revealed itself as more than just a route to the shoreline. Located in the Son Tra district, this area is vibrant, modern, and highly convenient - just minutes from the coast and recognized as one of the top areas for foreigners and expats in Da Nang.

The walk itself was simple yet rewarding. Streets glistened from the earlier downpour, the air was cool, and the rhythm of the city seemed to slow. Each step carried us closer to the sound of waves, the scent of salt, and the promise of the sea.

This is Finland Preschool (FIS) in Danang, a pioneering early childhood institution that brings the Finnish model of education to Vietnam. It is located at 18–20 D. Dinh Nghe street, Son Tra District, Da Nang, and is part of a broader network of Finland International Schools (FIS) established in Hanoi, Ho Chi Minh City, and Da Nang.

The Finnish model emphasizes holistic development - not just academics, but emotional well‑being, social skills, and creativity. At FIS Danang, children are encouraged to learn through play, explore their environment, and develop independence in a nurturing setting. This approach contrasts with more traditional rote‑learning methods, making it attractive to parents seeking a modern, child‑centered education.

The street connects the Han River Bridge vicinity toward the coastline, placing it at the heart of the An Hai/Phuoc My area. From here, the famous My Khe Beach is only a short stroll away, about 300 - 500 meters. Despite its rapid development, the street maintains an organized and accessible feel compared to older parts of the city, striking a balance between bustling energy and livability.

Lining the street are high‑rise apartment buildings, serviced studios, and modern rental units, many with balconies offering airy city views or open vistas of the district. These fully furnished apartments, often equipped with amenities like rooftop pools or gyms, have made the area popular with expats and professionals. As of January 2026, rental prices for a one‑bedroom apartment here typically range between 8.5 million and 16 million VND per month (~$335–$630 USD), depending on floor level and facilities.

Earlier, Yuni taught us one of the most essential skills for navigating Vietnam: how to cross the road. In Da Nang, where motorbikes flow like rivers, crossing busy streets is less about traffic lights and more about rhythm and trust.

The key, Yuni explained, is to remain calm, confident, and steady. Walk slowly and consistently in a straight line, allowing motorbike drivers to anticipate your path and weave around you. Never stop suddenly, never run, and never turn back - hesitation is far more dangerous than courage.

Eye contact helps. A glance toward the drivers signals awareness, and if nerves creep in, crossing alongside locals provides reassurance. Yuni also showed us a simple gesture: a slight raise of the hand or arm, a non‑verbal signal that says, “I’m crossing.” It increases visibility and communicates intent in the shared language of the street.

Beyond residences, the street thrives with cafes, restaurants, mini‑marts, and spas such as the Luxury Herbal Spa, catering to daily needs and leisure. By day, it hums with activity, yet by evening it settles into a quieter rhythm, making it attractive for long‑term stays.

Walking through D. Dinh Nghe street, we felt the pulse of a city in transition - modern, welcoming, and cosmopolitan, yet still rooted in its coastal charm. It was not just a path to the beach, but a glimpse into the evolving character of Da Nang itself.

Sidewalk Eateries – The Beating Heart of Danang’s Street Culture

These photos capture the essence of sidewalk dining in Danang, a scene that is both everyday and extraordinary. Low plastic stools and tables line the pavement, inviting locals and visitors alike to sit shoulder‑to‑shoulder, sharing food and conversation in the open air. The atmosphere is lively yet intimate - buses and motorbikes pass by, neon signs glow, and the aroma of freshly prepared dishes drifts through the street.

These eateries are more than places to eat; they are a testament to Vietnam’s rich culinary heritage. Here, food is woven into the rhythm of daily life. Stalls like Chè Liên serve traditional Vietnamese desserts and sweet drinks, while others offer steaming bowls of noodles, grilled meats, or refreshing iced coffee. The simplicity of the setup - plastic stools, tiled sidewalks, electric fans - belies the depth of flavor and tradition in every dish.

Sidewalk dining reflects the communal spirit of Vietnamese culture. Meals are not solitary experiences but shared moments, where laughter and conversation flow as freely as the food. The accessibility of these eateries makes them democratic spaces - welcoming students, families, workers, and travelers alike.

In Danang, as in much of Vietnam, the sidewalk is not just a thoroughfare. It is a stage for culinary performance, a gathering place, and a living archive of flavors passed down through generations. To sit at one of these low tables, surrounded by the hum of the city, is to experience Vietnam at its most authentic - where heritage and modern life meet in a bowl of noodles or a glass of chè.

Durian in Da Nang is popular enough to be found in street vending and dessert shops, but it doesn’t dominate the culinary identity of the region the way it does in southern Vietnam. For travelers, spotting durian vendors in Da Nang is a reminder of how Vietnam’s diverse food culture connects north, central, and south through shared flavors. While not a staple of central Vietnamese cuisine (which emphasizes seafood, noodles, and herbs), durian remains a popular treat among locals and tourists who enjoy its distinctive flavor.

Street food in Da Nang is popular, both among locals and visitors, because it embodies convenience, affordability, and social connection. Young people and couples often prefer eating out - it’s less hassle, cheaper, and part of the city’s vibrant lifestyle. They see street food as part of daily life, not just a treat. Dishes like mì Quảng, bánh mì, or grilled seafood skewers cost far less than cooking at home, making them accessible to all income levels. Also vendors offer everything from local specialties like mì Quảng to regional treats such as Da Lat grilled skewers, ensuring constant novelty.

Crossing roads, what seemed daunting at first became almost graceful - a dance between pedestrians and riders, each respecting the other’s rhythm. In that moment, crossing the road was not just about reaching the other side. It was about learning to move with the pulse of the city, to trust its flow, and to embrace the everyday choreography that defines life in Vietnam.

To be continued.
 
Till the next coming entry, inshaAllah. Meanwhile do take care.

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