Nha Trang

Slipping into a bubbling vat of volcanic mud at Thap Ba Hot Springs feels curiously like being basted in mineral-rich gravy, only surprisingly more pleasant. Tucked deceptively close to the bustling heart of Nha Trang, in the mellow neighborhood of Ngoc Hiep, this place offers a quirky spa decadence that the French colonizers surely would have adored had they known it existed (they were probably too busy sipping cognac or planning boulevards). Show up in the cooler hours-early morning or late afternoon-just as the sun drifts lazily toward evening, casting amber rays onto lush greenery and giving your mud-encrusted self that perfect Instagram filter glow. Book ahead a day or two to snag one of the coveted private tubs (public pools are more budget-friendly but decidedly less romantic) and set aside around $10-$20 USD per head. Grab a swimsuit you don't mind sacrificing to mineral-induced discoloration, a waterproof camera, and perhaps a sense of humor-the sensation of floating effortlessly in mineral muck can be delightfully absurd. And hey, even if you emerge looking more swamp-creature than glamorous spa-goer, the experience alone-mud-caked selfies, baffled giggles, and surprisingly silky skin-makes Thap Ba one of those wonderfully weird adventures you'll still be talking about five years from now, preferably over drinks.

If your idea of "roughing it" involves sipping Mojitos in a silky robe while lounging over emerald waters, congratulations-you've found your spiritual home at Ninh Van Bay's Overnight Retreat. Hidden within the sleepy folds of Ninh Hoa, this secluded haven is what would happen if Robinson Crusoe won the lottery and got a touch pretentious. Grab a ride on a wooden boat just before sunset to catch the bay at its photogenic peak-trust me, no filter needed when nature paints in gold and lilac. Book at least two months ahead and brace yourself financially; the phrase "secluded luxury" in Vietnam roughly translates to shelling out $400 or more a night. Bring mosquito repellent (these winged annoyances have zero appreciation for your Instagram selfies), a good read, and an unhealthy disregard for email notifications-Wi-Fi barely exists here, and that's precisely the draw. The beauty of Ninh Van Bay isn't just in its turquoise waters or private plunge pools, but in the delicious audacity of retreating like a reclusive rockstar while fishermen nearby earnestly haul their morning catch. Go-even if your credit card protests-because life's too short to miss out on places that provide you with dinner party bragging rights for decades.

If you've ever wondered how salt-the humble substance that makes your fries palatable and margaritas essential-gets coaxed from seawater into savory white crystals, then a morning wander around Hon Mieu's intriguingly photogenic salt fields is your chance to see nature's slowest miracle unfold. Set your alarm obscenely early, sometime just before dawn (the sunlight at this ungodly hour turns salt mounds into surreal glowing pyramids worthy of an art-house sci-fi film), and you'll witness local salt harvesters expertly raking saline pools with Zen-like patience and enviable forearms. Hon Mieu's salt fields aren't merely camera bait; for generations, families here have turned seawater into sustenance, a salty heritage dating back centuries, proving humans will bravely extract seasoning from the earth long after Instagram influencers have moved on. Bring sunglasses, plenty of water (ironically, hydration is key amid this ocean of salt), and some small bills-tipping the workers for a photo or two won't just buy you goodwill; it will guarantee salty banter worthy of Anthony Bourdain himself. Budget a modest sum-around 100,000 VND-for a guided stroll, and plan at least a day ahead to organize transportation and charmingly vague local directions. Even if your shoes end up crusted in sodium chloride and your clothes retain a faint whiff of brine for weeks, it's entirely worth it for the sheer absurdity of explaining to friends how you spent a morning on vacation knee-deep in salt crystals somewhere off the tourist radar.