Scooter Trip to the Marble Mountains

We rent scooters and set off on roughly an hour-long ride to the Marble Mountains. There’s something liberating about riding through Vietnam on two wheels — chaotic traffic, warm air, and the constant hum of engines all around.

On the way, we stop at the beach. The coastline stretches wide and open, and the round basket boats — simple woven vessels — float near the shore. These bowl-shaped boats are completely normal here, even if they look unusual to foreign eyes. Nearby, locals relax in hammocks, swaying gently in the sea breeze.

Back on the road, there’s a moment that perfectly captures the contrast of travel: Kristina’s head in the foreground and a strip of freshly laid asphalt behind her — modern infrastructure cutting through traditional landscapes. Meanwhile, Marek and Kristina actually manage to look quite stylish on their scooters.

When we arrive at the Marble Mountains, we climb to the top of one of the hills, where a large temple stands overlooking the area. From above, you can see what’s known as “Marble Village” below — not built from marble, but famous for selling marble statues of every imaginable kind.

Inside the temple, a Buddhist monk performs a ritual, adding a sense of calm and reverence to the visit. The atmosphere is peaceful, spiritual. Even the cats roaming around seem unusually alert — their eyes wide open rather than lazily half-closed.

Down below, the marble workshops display an astonishing range of sculptures: small souvenirs, elegant figures, Buddhas, large Buddhas — and VERY large Buddhas. If you can imagine it carved from stone, it’s probably for sale there.

By the time we finish exploring, the sun is already low in the sky. Golden light covers the landscape as we begin our ride back.

In the evening, we meet up again with Bella — whose real name, we learn, is Ha. “Bella” is just a pseudonym. She takes us to a vegetarian restaurant where we try local “fresh” beer that costs only 3,000 dong per glass — about 13 cents. Hard to argue with that.

Later, on the street, we’re approached by an Estonian named Mario. He has been living there for two and a half years, working in a bar. Because his passport is expiring, he’ll soon have to return to Estonia. He’s been away since his early twenties — nearly five years abroad.

Scooters, mountains, temples, cheap beer, and unexpected encounters — another full day where Vietnam feels both vast and surprisingly small at the same time.