Sunset on Tri Nguyen Island

Tri Nguyen is not large, but each small path around the island opens up a separate part of life. I followed the winding slope through fishing villages, where each roof appeared low and old over time behind the shade of the banyan and ancient frangipani trees. Under the cool shade was a small, simple corrugated iron shop nestled next to the fence. From inside the shop, the fragrant smell of grilled squid cakes on hot coals wafted up. The shop owner smiled gently and invited me and my friend to sit down on a small plastic chair, as friendly as if she were a stranger visiting her. On the terracotta mold, the small round cakes were about to cook, the soft, opaque white rice flour layer rising like a thin cloth embracing the fresh filling of squid rings just caught from the sea. The cakes were served with diluted fish sauce, shredded mango, and herbs picked right behind the house. The fatty taste of the cake, the chewy sweetness of the squid, the salty taste of the sea - all like a gentle whisper of the island.

Tri Nguyen Port. Photo: LE DUC DUONG

As the sun gradually sank behind the distant mountains, where a small winding pass faintly illuminated by car headlights. The last light of the day spread shimmering streaks of color across the water, reflecting the returning seagulls. Then fishing boats began to go out to sea to catch squid and fish. The lights flickered on the boat roofs like a greeting to the sunset… In my heart, I suddenly heard a deep song: “When we parted, I walked along the harbor, the sea on one side and you on the other…”. On the other bank, in the twilight of the sunset, women were busily cleaning up… They were indifferent to the ship of their loved ones setting sail, but I knew that tomorrow morning they would wake up early and go to the sandbank to wait for the tear-stained faces returning to the ship…

Following a few locals to the rocky beach near the edge of the sea - which in the evening becomes a makeshift "snail restaurant" of the island village. Nothing fancy, just a few small plastic tables, a few basins of fresh water to wash hands, light coming from fishing boats anchored far away. The sea breeze whispers. The smell of kitchen smoke mixed with the smell of fish sauce, garlic and chili mixes in the air. A mother and her child are grilling cone snails, snails, a few plates of grilled clams with scallion oil, and clams steamed with lemongrass that have just been served, the smoke billowing, the aroma is heart-warming.

Sitting by the seawall, holding a snail skewer, I listened to the cheerful laughter of the fishermen, the gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore, and the soft bolero music playing from an old radio. The atmosphere was both wild and warm, like a simple slice of coastal life without any hustle and bustle. An old man poured me a cup of banana wine and said, “Drink this, my child, to warm yourself up, to remember this sea longer.” Oh, it wasn’t the aroma of the wine but the words that penetrated deep into the hearts of the visitors to this place.

When night falls, Tri Nguyen Island puts on a peaceful cloak, with only the flickering light offshore and the flickering oil lamps on the porches remaining. Nets are hung high in the yard, ready to dry for the early morning trip. The sound of the wind blowing through the leaf walls, the sound of crickets chirping by the dry well - all like a wordless symphony, slow and haunting.

I left the island late at night. Looking back one last time, I saw the island's shadow in the light of the lighthouse. In my heart, Tri Nguyen Island is not only a place to stop but also a gentle, simple, yet profound life - where a piece of squid cake, a plate of snails on the shore, or a smile from the locals is enough to hold the hearts of those who have visited. Nha Trang welcomed me as I stepped ashore: The city was brilliant and bustling with sounds and lights, but behind me, Tri Nguyen Island had begun to doze off in the mist.

DUONG MY ANH

Source: https://baokhanhhoa.vn/van-hoa/sang-tac/202505/hoang-hon-tren-dao-tri-nguyen-d3017d1/