Vinh Sang Tourist Area

A small sound, wet and soft, rises right under a bare foot. It is not running water. It is not quite the earth either. It is like pulling a spoon out of a jar of very thick sweet pudding: one wet pop, and then silence.

Then comes a second one. Then four or five at once, piling over each other, because now it is not one foot but a whole line of people feeling their way, step by step.

Someone laughs. Someone cries out after slipping, arms flailing in the air, then grabs the shoulder of the person alongside. The wet pops follow one another down a long ditch. For many children, this is the first sound they remember of the place, before its name, before the photo taken on arrival.

Only when heads lift does the whole scene come into view. On both banks of the ditch lies soft, damp orchard soil. Overhead, the leaves weave together into a green roof full of small holes of sunlight. The water in the ditch has been bailed low, leaving only a thin layer that glints like a broken mirror. Farther off, beyond the row of trees, lies a wide river, bright and slow.

The place is called Vinh Sang Tourist Area. It lies in An Thuận hamlet, in An Bình commune. The commune belongs to Vĩnh Long province. The garden sits right at the head of An Bình islet, on the bank of the Cổ Chiên River. It looks straight across to the center of Vĩnh Long.

An islet is a piece of land in the middle of a river, like a big boat that dropped anchor long ago and never sailed again. Its head is the sharpest point, where the current strikes first before splitting to either side. Vinh Sang sits exactly at that first point.

Getting here starts not on wheels but on water. Visitors gather at the Vĩnh Long passenger port on Phạm Hùng Street. From there they board a boat across the Cổ Chiên River.

On board, the sounds change completely. The engine thrums steadily under the deck. Water slaps the hull, beat by beat. With the wind rushing past the ears, every sentence comes out louder than usual. Behind, the city grows smaller. Ahead, the islet appears as a thick, low band of green, stretched across the line of sight.

Once the boat lands, that green band opens up into orchards. The city is still right across the river, close enough to see clearly, and yet the car horns have all stayed behind on the far side.

The most famous game here has a name that sounds very strange to city children: tát mương bắt cá, bailing out a ditch to catch fish. A mương is a small channel running through the orchard, bringing water to the trees. To tát is to scoop the water out, scoop and keep on scooping, until the bottom of the ditch slowly shows.

The fun lies in the waiting. At first there is nothing to see, only muddy water, flat and still, as quiet as if it were keeping a secret. Then the water drops a little, and the surface starts to stir. In places it bulges up and sinks back, as if something were pushing from below. Then it drops further. And the back of a fish slides past, glossy black, gone in the blink of an eye.

By then, no one can stand still. Legs sink to the calf. The mud wraps around the ankles and holds them back at every step. Hands sweep through the cloudy water and brush against a slippery fish. By the time the fingers close, it is long gone. The fish wins, the people lose, and the whole ditch laughs together.

A ditch session is never for just one person. It takes a crowd, which means the whole family, or friends talked into coming along. That is part of the fun too. Some joys only appear when there are enough people: someone wading in first, someone cheering from behind, someone just standing on the bank, laughing until the tears come.

After the ditch, everyone looks the same. Mud clings from heel to knee, and sometimes it splashes up onto cheeks and hair. No one can remember what color shirt they put on that morning. And that is when a different kind of water is waiting.

Vinh Sang has an indoor pool, with a roof overhead. The water here is clear enough to see the bottom, nothing like the cloudy ditch from before. There are floats for small children to hug, life jackets that fit snugly, and lifeguards keeping watch.

The pool sounds different too. Under the roof, every noise echoes. Water splashes, feet kick, and calls ring out, then come back to the ear a beat late. The soft wet pop of the mud is gone. In its place comes the sound of water breaking, crisp and bright.

Now the grown-ups can finally let out a long breath. Midday is for getting muddy. Afternoon is for getting clean, for floating, for closing the eyes and listening to feet kicking the water.

Beyond the ditch and the pool, the garden has many other games, grouped into ready-made packages for visitors to choose from. A smaller package is just enough for half a day. A larger one is meant for those who want to stay longer and try every last thing.

So a day at the head of the islet has a rhythm of its own. Morning is open water and the hum of the boat engine. Midday is mud, laughter and bare feet. Afternoon is clear water, wet hair, and fingertips wrinkled from soaking too long.

Then the sun sinks lower. The Cổ Chiên River changes color, from bright to gold, and from gold to silver gray. Across the river, the streets of Vĩnh Long begin to light up, small dots joining into a trembling outline on the water. Seen from the head of the islet, the distance is only a stretch of river. Yet it feels like two worlds set side by side, one flickering with light, the other dark and green.

On the boat back, feet are washed, clothes are changed, and hair is dry. But one thing still lingers in the ear.

That small sound, wet and soft. The sound of mud letting go of a foot and closing again behind it. Heard the first time, it is just a funny noise, quickly forgotten. Heard again in memory, it is the sound of a midday when everyone in the family was equally muddy, equally empty-handed, and burst out laughing at the very same moment.

And there, among the trees at the head of An Bình islet, the ditch lies still. It waits for the river to fill it again, and for another line of feet to wade in and raise that very same sound once more.