It’s lunchtime in Duong Dong’s main market and there’s not another tourist in sight. Motorcycles zip in every direction down the heavily potholed street. Some are piled high with crates of mangoes or squid; another has two toddlers squeezed between both parents on a seat meant for one. Everyone pulls up directly outside each stall to shop straight from the bike. Tables are laden with fresh cuttlefish and sea urchins, hauled off the boats that dock just behind the market. There are huge baskets of dragon fruit, spiky durians and mini bananas; one elderly man in a conical bamboo hat gestures at a tank of plump frogs at my feet wondering if I might want to take some home for dinner.
Just over the bridge, it’s a different story. Metres away, the town’s much-tidier night market is opening up for an influx of tourists, lined with street food stalls, coffee shops and souvenir stands. Streets are hung with silk lanterns and fairy lights; locally grown fruits can be whizzed into smoothies or drizzled with chocolate while you wait. Vietnam’s largest island, Phu Quoc, is having something of an identity crisis.
