Charming Cham Islands

If my skin tastes like salt, sweat, and sunscreen, I know I’m in the right place.
The thing about backpacking is: you have to be spontaneous. You see a chance, you take it. It’s a rollercoaster — the highs are sky-high, but the lows can be pretty low. All you’ve got is what’s in your backpack, your feet to carry you, a good friend by your side, and sometimes a wildly unreliable bus — with either ice-cold aircon set to 15°C, snoring seat neighbors, or roads so bumpy you end up headbutting the ceiling.
But still, it’s a free way of traveling. You don’t leave anything behind, you don’t really impact your surroundings — except the people you meet. You get to see places, at least to some extent, through the eyes of the locals. And that’s what I love about it.
Over the last few days, one thought kept repeating in my head:
"I’m so incredibly free."

We spent two wonderful days on the Cham Islands.
We stayed at a cozy homestay with the sweetest host. Only about 30 tourists stayed overnight — the rest were locals. Within the first ten minutes, Jasper managed to break half the balcony (but it was old anyway, so we’re not blaming him... too much).
We rented a scooter, checked out a few beaches, and made it all the way to the most remote one — only for the scooter to break down. Luckily, a kind guy drove us back to the village. No data, no help otherwise. On another road, the pavement was so wrecked we had to push the scooter — and then turn around and push it uphill, which honestly felt like punishment for being adventurous.
One of the absolute highlights was diving.
Two dives, each around 50 minutes (but felt like 10), and we saw puffers, lionfish, moray eels, lobsters, and coral that was still surprisingly colorful.
We spent loads of time on the beach, surrounded by palm trees, monkeys, and sunshine.
It looked like paradise.
And the seafood? Incredible. We went to this small restaurant and decided to come back the next evening after watching a gorgeous sunset.
Only downside: the waiter couldn’t read or write, and honestly, it felt like he barely spoke Vietnamese. After some classic miscommunication, I ended up getting glutened. But hey, me and my stomach got over it.
After those two exciting, never-boring, yet still peaceful and beautiful days on the islands (Jasper didn’t even want to go at first — now he admits it was amazing), we had to say goodbye.
We picked up our clothes from Bich’s place, had dinner, and headed to the bus station — ready for our next adventure: the night bus to Da Lat.
Plot twist: The bus was overbooked. They just told us, straight-faced, "No space."
Coolcoolcool.
So we sat around like sad backpackers do — until Jasper, the legend, started texting and calling every bus company out there. After juggling a few options, he found a route: Hoi An → Quy Nhon → Nha Trang → Da Lat.
We even considered flying the next morning to avoid the 18-hour chaos... but backpackers are also budget warriors.
With two hours to kill before the bus, we found a bar with live music. By pure coincidence, I ran into Ladina, a friend from ski school who had the exact same problem. We booked the same bus for her, had drinks, laughed, and enjoyed the music. It turned out to be a perfect night.
Then came the bus — 35 minutes late, of course. We sat on the sidewalk like total outcasts, but somehow felt so good. So free. So alive.
Eventually, the bus showed up. Tiny beds — absolutely no room. Ladina and I didn’t sleep at all. Jasper managed to snooze a bit (shockingly). And now we’re on our second bus, the roads are horrific, sleep is a distant dream, but... in 6 hours, we’ll be in Da Lat.
And we’ll see what happens next. :)Leer más