The middle beach - a nameless place

(VHQN) - For people in Central Vietnam, going to the beach in the summer seems nothing unusual. But this time, it was a truly different experience: a "ticket" back to childhood, back to oneself, starting with a familiar trip.

The middle beach - an unnamed place between Tam Thanh and Tam Tien beaches.

A moment of hesitation

I drove towards the sea, crossing the Truong Giang Bridge. The wind was blowing strongly, and the water on both sides shimmered. It was late afternoon, and the sun was less intense. The afternoon breeze was gentle, making it cooler the further I went. Each stretch of road brought back a flood of memories, a mix of excitement and emotion.

Just past the last intersection, I caught a whiff of the sea. It was a distinctive, slightly pungent smell, recognizable but indescribable. I slowed down, tilted my head back, and took a deep breath, inhaling the salty scent of the ocean, just like I did when I was a child and came here.

There was a fork in the road right in front of the sea. The sign indicated Tam Thanh on the right – the beach of my childhood, where golden sand clung to my cheap plastic sandals, where I used to frolic in the clear summers. To the left was Tinh Thuy – a name I'd heard many times, but never visited. But that day, I didn't choose either. I chose to stop right there – at an unnamed spot. Something called out to me, indistinct but compelling. I wheeled my bike in, crossing a row of rustling casuarina trees, the salty breeze blowing. And before me was a stunning beach.

No signboards. No welcome arch. No tourists . Just a few local people swimming, people whose names and faces I didn't know, yet I felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity. No one paid attention to me, and I didn't need anyone's attention. I just walked into the sea, like a child lost in a small fishing village. There, people knew each other instinctively, speaking in their native accent without any formality, saying whatever came to mind.

On the beach in my hometown. Photo: MINH DUC

Authentic seaside lifestyle

The beach was deserted. The sand was fine. The water was clear. There was no noise. No trash. I felt cleansed, not just by the seawater, but by the feeling of being myself, without titles, without having to pretend or act. No need to think about posing for photos, no need to worry about what to post on Facebook later to be "trendy" or profound.

Right at the water's edge, there was a small stall selling clam porridge. I ordered a bowl. Just as I was about to eat, the porridge vendor burst out laughing and called me back:

Wait, wait, the sky is so pink! Let's take some pictures before we eat. It'll be pitch dark soon!

I looked up. A rainbow seemed to appear on the horizon. Looking back, the sun had now disappeared behind the rows of cypress trees. The waves lapped gently, the sky and water blending into streaks of color. Breathtakingly beautiful. A moment that cannot be staged – it can only be encountered, not sought after.

A bowl of clam porridge costs 15,000 dong. It's piping hot. I was chuckling to myself while eating it. When I asked about the parking fee, the kids waved their hands dismissively.

- "Go ahead, sir, we're just fishermen, we don't do any service work."

Another child chimed in:

- You can leave your things here without worry. Nothing will be stolen. Last week, only that unlucky girl had her two phones stolen! - After saying that, the whole group burst into laughter.

That genuine, down-to-earth nature is unbearable.

Returning to the child of yesteryear

That afternoon, I sat there for a long time. I wasn't in a hurry to leave. Because I knew I was sitting in the midst of a gift. A gift that not everyone who goes to the beach in the summer receives. A beach in between, between two crowded places, between familiar choices, yet it offered the clearest feeling of home.

On my way home, I crossed that bridge again. It was already getting dark. In the distance, the city lights began to come on. Each light twinkled, as if beckoning, rejoicing. I felt like I was the child I once was – sitting in front of the car, the wind whipping against my face, my heart pounding with anticipation for the lights, excited for reasons I couldn't quite understand.

At that moment, I suddenly realized there are paths people take simply because everyone else is taking them. Named beaches, destinations labeled "must-visit" on travel apps. We go there, thinking it's our choice, but in reality, we're just unconsciously following the crowd.

Suddenly, I realized that the paths in our minds are similar. There are choices, thoughts, and decisions that we think are our own, but are actually shaped by the silent and constant influences around us: trending TikTok clips, statuses with hundreds of thousands of likes, "must-read" reviews, and pre-defined definitions of success and happiness that are repeated so often that we don't have time to pause and consider counterarguments.

Even in our minds, we think we are free, but in reality, we are repeating pre-established, agreed-upon thoughts.

There are other paths – unnamed, uncharted, without reviews, not on any "Top 10 places to visit" list. But if you are quiet enough to listen, brave enough to detour – you might find yourself. Not entirely by chance. Not planned. But a gift, from a chance turn.

This summer, if you have the chance, try taking a road you've never been on before. It doesn't have to be far away, it doesn't have to be a famous destination. It might even be right near your home, you just haven't noticed it before or you've passed by it without stopping. Give yourself a chance to slow down, look more closely, to feel a different side of your hometown – and who knows, you might even see yourself from a new perspective.

Because sometimes, just turning left instead of right, pausing instead of continuing, is enough to unlock a gentle world behind it. A world reserved only for those who dare to listen to the vague call within themselves and follow it!

Source: https://baoquangnam.vn/bai-giua-mot-chon-khong-ten-3156590.html