An Lam Retreats, Ninh Van Bay in Vietnam
Avid art lovers, J. and I would normally be appalled at a hotel with no art, snatch up our luggage and disdainfully march off in search of paintings and sculptures fit to satisfy our artistic snobbery. Imagine our surprise after spending two days at An Lam Retreats when we realized that there is no art here! Natural materials are key to the design and the whole resort has been integrated organically into its wild surroundings.
Instead of paintings the walls are nude, built of a lovely dove gray weathered wood, subtle in their unadorned beauty. Instead of sculptures gigantic boulders decorate the grounds, naturally shaded in salmon, fawn, and glittery silver hues. After spending four days in this tropical paradise I can wholeheartedly admit that manmade art is simply not necessary here.
But let’s rewind to the beginning…as our speedboat was slicing through the pastel green waters of Ninh Van bay towards the last and most dreamed about destination of our trip: the secluded An Lam Retreats. Check-in was managed swiftly and painlessly during the hour drive from the airport while J. and I sipped our lime and honey concoctions, connected to the high-speed wifi, and gazed out at the endless rice paddies.
I knew we had finally reached our destination when I saw a marvelous architectural wonder coming into focus, rising like a giant, graceful globe from the golden beach and causing me to gasp in awe. Though it sits on the periphery of the resort, the majestic Sen restaurant is its heart and soul, its breathtaking and multi-dimensional design incorporating a restaurant, rooftop bar, and terrace all within its spherical pine frame.
The afternoon yoga class was about to begin and I raced to it eagerly; the perfect way to relax and acclimate to the jungly new surroundings. The yoga platform was raised high above the resort and I defied the instructor’s request to close my eyes as we stood in tadasana, unwilling to miss out on the breathtaking view. The afternoon light illuminated the East Sea, shimmering through the lush green treetops, the surrounding mountains shrouded in mist. Refreshing gusts of wind cheered me on during my sun salutations and I left the class feeling both revitalized and relaxed.
There is a sleek, modern, yet simultaneously simple and earthy feel to the resort. We stayed in a Jungle Rock Villa, built of pine imported from New Zealand and decorated tastefully in neutral colors, a few lanterns made of rope hung around the room and pure white mosquito netting cloaked our bed creating a minimalistic and serene vibe. The bathroom was almost as big as the bedroom, with a separate sink for J., plenty of space for our toiletries, and a chaise lounge smack in the middle, which I used primarily for tossing my flowy linen dresses on. My favorite detail was the wooden bathtub- perched outside on the terrace in our private garden and equipped with a small pot of coarse bath salts smelling delightfully of ginger and chili.
Our personal butler Tien was always a quick speed dial away, booking me a massage at the Jungle Spa, escorting me to the infinity pool with a bright smile, or packing a take away Vietnamese coffee, since one of those velvety sweet drinks is never enough. The resort offers a nicely curated selection of day trips to local temples, food markets and waterfalls but we had no intention of tearing ourselves away from our jungle villa for any other purpose than to venture to the Sen restaurant. We had the perfect excuse to stay in as it rained every day; a misty tropical rain that cut through the balmy air and created the ideal ambience to sip jasmine tea and read on our terrace- me, novels about Indochina, J., business books about the stock market.
The whole resort is enveloped in a luxurious sense of peace and quiet. The adults-only policy means it attracts clientele who place a high value on silence and discretion (like us!) and after the relentless moped honking we had been subjected to in Ho Chi Minh City the complete void of manmade sounds felt like a delicious reprieve.
J. invests in food companies and is thus constantly being wooed with the fattiest tuna, the most tender kobe beef, and perfectly ripened organic avocados by companies from Tokyo to Malaga. His discriminating palate was a little worried at the prospect of eating only at An Lam’s sole restaurant for four days, however these fears quickly dissipated after our first meal at Sen, in which we ignored the western menu and zeroed in hungrily on the Vietnamese dishes.
Our dinner consisted of perfectly fried shrimp spring rolls, morning glory salad with slivers of green banana, starfruit and beef, lemongrass chicken presented in a bamboo chute and a clay pot simmering with vegetable and tofu coconut curry. The antique kerosene lamp on our table cast a romantic golden glow and the waves lapping against the side of the restaurant were the only sound to be heard, thanks to soaring ceiling and the brilliant acoustics – protecting us from any snippets of unwanted conversation that too often bombard you from the next table - a pet peeve of J.
After four glorious days, our trip came to an inevitable end, and we reluctantly packed up our books and bamboo flip flops. After grudgingly boarding the speedboat and gliding off into the bay, I glanced back for a farewell look. Tien was still waving goodbye from the pier, Sen looming grandly behind her, merging into the beach which was merging into the jungle, the hills painted with vegetation in so many shades of brilliant green that the best artist would not have been able to imitate.
For more photos and videos of An Lam Retreats, please visit their website: https://anlam.com/ninh-van-bay/nvb-our-retreat/
