Cua Dai beach

4:45 am and it's already light. The air is cool but I break into a sweat almost as soon as I start jogging. My Shuffle blares out remixes you normally hear at a club. It's the first time I'm listening to it since leaving England.


The jog is uneventful. Other than the thumping beats of my iPod, only the prospect of watching the sunrise over the South China Sea at Cua Dai beach spurs me onwards. Views of paddy fields and rivers in the soft light of dawn distract me every now and then.


5:50 am. Sunrise was slightly disappointing: a big fat cumulonimbus in the way paints the sky a nice shade of dark red above the Vietnamese mountains behind. The beach is surprisingly packed with people. No, not tourists but locals. They bury themselves in the sand, play volleyball or badminton, jog and exercise along the surf, or paddle and swim about in the sea. I guess it's early to bed, early to rise for the Vietnamese. I, myself walk along the surf, lie down on the beach and paddle about where the sea reaches just above the knees.


Rising above the cloud, the glorious sun casts its rays and sets the sea ablaze in dazzling reflections of white and yellow. The Cham islands, once mere shadows amongst dancing mists, now disappear as if the legendary giant turtle on which it rests on decides to submerge. Likewise, the locals decide to leave in an attempt to escape the hot sun whilst the beach is overrun by mad pale-skinned tourists who seek the sun.


The jog back is different; interesting, now that the town has woken up. The road is no longer mine and I strive to constantly remember to jog by the side of the road now that they are filled with cars and motorcycles. Every now and then, a child cycles past and I try to keep up. Before long, I reach the hostel, dump my valuables in the room and dive into the cool refreshing waters of the pool.