Five Days in Da Nang, Vietnam

We spent five days in Da Nang, Vietnam, a coastal city famous for its beaches, the Dragon Bridge and the mountains rising just beyond the city. Unfortunately our visit coincided with several days of solid rain, turning the city into a maze of puddles, ponchos and strategic curry stops.

Da Nang poured. And poured. And poured some more.

Shoes went missing somewhere between the streets and our socks, puddles became miniature lakes, and by day three we were quietly wishing for waders. Motorbikes zipped past like poncho-clad submarines, plastic bags flapping heroically in the wind, while the scent of wet asphalt and river-fresh rain lingered everywhere.

Where We Stayed in Da Nang: Boutique Hotel and a Pea-Green Pool

We stayed at the Da Nang Boutique Hotel, which was excellent if slightly unconventional. The reception hides on the sixth floor of a repurposed office block. Downstairs still houses Vietjet and a temperamental coffee shop that opens only when it feels like it.

Rooms are spacious, modern and thankfully dry.

There is also a rooftop swimming pool which, thanks to the weather, we did not need. By midweek it had turned a questionable pea green from runoff rainwater, which I think counts as local colour.

Hidden behind reception was a three-month-old puppy whose sole contribution to our stay was enthusiastic yapping. I spent several rainy moments befriending it. It ignored Craig, naturally.

Da Nang Food Discoveries: Curry Obsession and Breakfast Confusion

Exploration was largely dictated by puddle depth. One evening, drenched and desperate, we ducked into a Japanese bar on the way to what quickly became our Indian restaurant obsession.

Two beers later Craig demonstrated his usual flair for unnecessary financial concern. £4 for two beers somehow became a lesson in fiscal responsibility. Personally I considered it a small price to pay for shelter and dry seating.

The Indian restaurant quickly became a nightly devotion. Spicy, soul-soothing curries and naan the size of small boats. Served by the attentive chap named Viet. Salvation in carbohydrate form.

Breakfast was a little more experimental. I ordered pork spring rolls which arrived containing pork but very little in the way of rolling. More self assemble with Hue noodles. Craig, displaying the cautious wisdom of a man who has travelled with me for decades, played it safe with scrambled eggs.

Exploring Da Nang Between Rainstorms

We attempted sightseeing between rainstorms.

The cathedral was mid-mass so we hovered politely at the edges before wandering back streets, dodging puddles and pausing at brolly stalls for shelter. The beach was clearly out of the question.

Dragon Bridge refused to breathe fire, presumably in solidarity with the monsoon, leaving only reflective puddles and neon lights for admiration.

The surfers continued to surf. 

Haircuts added further drama. Craig’s was neat, calm and entirely unsurprising just like the one in My Tho. Mine involved scissors on a mission, a dizzying head massage that lasted an hour and a stylist who clearly believed subtlety was for other people. I emerged damp, slightly scalped and vaguely heroic.

On day one we hired a motorbike for exploring the jungle (post to follow). By day five we hired another bike for getting around locally. Rain soon followed and it became the only way to explore without total immersion.

Marble Mountains and Monkey Mountain in the Rain

By day five we had simply had enough of our four walls.

The sky was already the colour of a sulking elephant, but we nodded like idiots and pretended it was morning haze. It was not haze. The weather app said no rain. We believed the app because we are optimists or idiots, possibly both, and set off on the motorbike under a ceiling of grey that looked like it had been painted on with a damp sponge.

Marble Mountain appeared first, five little stumps of rock rising out of the stone mason villages like someone had dropped a handful of geological leftovers and decided to build pagodas on them. Very similar to the ones in Greece just a lot lot smaller. The mountains are named after the five elements, which sounds mystical until you are standing there soaked through wondering which element is responsible for the water currently running down your pants.

We wandered around the smaller rocks and pagodas, squelching like two walking sponges. The big mountain loomed above us, but we decided to save it for later when the rain stopped. This was adorable. The rain had absolutely no intention of stopping. It was committed. It had a vision.

We headed for Monkey Mountain next, which is actually the Son Tra Peninsula but was renamed by American troops who apparently saw more monkeys than sense.

The rain thickened into something with personality. By the time we reached the huge Lady Buddha we were soaked through and possibly cured of all sins. She stands 67 metres tall, serene and dry, which felt like showing off under the circumstances.

We took shelter under the canopy of trees near the pagoda, dripping steadily like two abandoned raincoats. It was a good toot round, but the rain spoiled any chance of lingering. Even the monkeys had taken the day off. They were probably inside somewhere laughing at us.

We stayed a couple of hours waiting for the weather to show mercy. It did not. The rain simply sat there, smug and immovable, like a toddler refusing to leave a soft-play area.

Eventually we gave up and headed back to Marble Mountain anyway because we were already wet enough to qualify as aquatic mammals.

The parking lot touts were out in force, waving tickets and enthusiasm we did not share. Craig dodged them and found a quiet spot near a small pagoda, then wandered up and around the mountain. The caves were cool and echoing, once used as hideouts and hospitals during the war, which added a dramatic edge to our soggy exploration.

The views were excellent in that misty, moody way that makes you feel like you are starring in a cheesy travel documentary filmed entirely in soft focus.

Back in Da Nang we ditched the bike and peeled ourselves out of our damp layers like two reluctant bananas. A few beers restored our spirits and then we tootled off for the best Indian meal we have had in years.

Truly yummy.

The kind of meal that makes you forget you spent the entire day being slapped repeatedly by weather.

Five Rainy Days That Turned Into a Reset

More than anything, Da Nang gave us time to recharge our batteries.

If I am honest that was mostly thanks to the rain forcing us to slow down, puddles keeping our feet firmly planted, and the nightly curry routine reminding us that some pleasures are non-negotiable even if our room did linger like curry plants

By the end of five days we had not seen much sun, but we had seen everything Da Nang had to offer. Absurdity, chaos, curry, a dragon with manners and tiny moments like a puppy hidden behind reception reminding us that sometimes the smallest things matter most.

Ridiculous. Wet. Brilliant.

Exactly the sort of day you remember forever.

Mostly because your shoes never quite dry out and the weather app still insists it wasn’t raining.