Nha Trang. Feb 14, 2026

Cam Ranh Bay, Vietnam

After completing my Jungle Survival School in the Philippines, I was flown to Vietnam in November 1969. We landed in Cam Ranh Bay and, on the third day, caught a hop to Phu Cat—my home for the next 12 months.

It felt strange seeing the sand of Cam Ranh Bay again. I remember it as a very fine grit that blew through the cracks into my temporary quarters and coated my bunk bed. It was memorable, for sure. A year later, when leaving Vietnam, I flew back to Cam Ranh Bay to catch my Pan Am “freedom flight” back to the United States.

Nha Trang was very similar to Ho Chi Minh City. It was crowded for its size, with a population of around 500,000. I was surprised to see mountains surrounding the bay where our cruise ship anchored. They would make great hiking mountains. The scenery around Nha Trang was prettier, especially with the white sandy beaches of the South China Sea and the easy access to the water. Unfortunately, the smog was so thick that I could barely make out anything two blocks away, let alone get a good look at the pristine water. All in all, I was not particularly impressed or filled with a desire to return to Nha Trang. Our tour guide, Michael, was fair to mediocre because of his limited English. He was hard for me to understand—not only because of his broken English but also his pronunciation. Even common words and phrases were difficult to understand. Words with letters like “t” were pronounced more like “d.” For example, he would say “fodder and modder” for “father and mother.” There are some professions that some people probably shouldn’t attempt. For example, I wouldn’t make a very good German tour guide because of my limited knowledge and poor German language skills.

Liam, our guide in Ho Chi Minh City, and Michael, our guide here in Nha Trang, both shared a few statistics about the Vietnamese people. They told us that about 70% of the population is Buddhist, 20% Catholic, and the remaining 10% follow other religions. Michael said he was a Buddhist. Our driver also spoke some English, and I think I understood him better than Michael. Of course, all he had to do was drive. He did seem to enjoy honking the horn quite a bit. As we drove through the city, we passed block after block of small stores and businesses that reminded me of the barrios in the Philippines. We stopped at several sites, including a government area near the beach that featured a unique rock formation sitting right on the shoreline. Supposedly there is a fairytale story about a naked siren and a sailor who lost his head connected with that rock. One of these days I may have to look up that story online to see if it’s actually true. Near the entrance to that area was an open-air pavilion with seating where a small band of Vietnamese musicians—mostly young women—were playing beautiful music using unusual instruments. The sound was very soothing and almost mystical. One instrument looked like a rectangular guitar. The most unusual instrument, however, was made from several hollow pieces of bamboo cut to different lengths. A young woman clapped her hands in front of the bamboo tubes to produce different tones. By clapping in rhythm she created a beautiful melody. It probably drew a larger crowd than the stack of rocks on the beach. We visited a couple more Buddhist temples and a large Catholic church that had been built after the war. Temples and shrines may look impressive, but since I’m not of the Buddhist faith, visiting more and more of them wasn’t especially exciting to me. What I did find interesting was driving past the many small shops and businesses along the streets. I would have liked to stop and walk out onto the pristine beaches. I’ve heard they are beautiful, but because of the haze I couldn’t see them very well. Debby said the beaches were beautiful and the water was clear, so I’ll have to take her word for it. We made it back to the ship in plenty of time for our 5:15 dinner at the International Restaurant.