No, it’s not THAT island. Even seven years ago, I thought “Vietnam” and “an island”. Exotic squared!

The whole place turned out to be a construction site and, weirdly for Australians, there was no public access to the beaches. The only place we got to swim was a rocky promontory that nobody else wanted and a motorbike ride north took us to Thai island-style bungalow villages that you might as well go to Thailand for.

No, a Vietnamese friend – who picked me up when I was looking lost and hapless in the Mekong Delta 21 years ago and now works taking other lost and hapless travellers around her home town of Ben Tre – steered me to this place.

Hon Son, easy to remember as it rhymes. And somehow a three-day trip extended to eight. These are the reasons why.

The author on the windy northern side of the island. Photo: Deirdre Smith

It is like the Greek island of your dreams

Hear me out. Hon Son is a small island and it is basically a mountain rising from the sea with a village squeezed on to the only flat bit.

Colourful fishing boats bob constantly in the harbour, there is a jumble of buildings and the one and only road runs along the water. That’s where all the cafes are and where the locals lounge around all day with their coffee. It just doesn’t have any donkeys.

Every cafe and restaurant has a view, for the reason above

As did our room, which had a large window opening onto a huge terrace overlooking, yes you guessed it, the harbour. You could just see the boats while lying in bed. And for 350,000 dong a night (about $20), why wouldn’t you stay longer?

Then there’s the beach

Unlike Phu Quoc, where you have to be a hotel guest to get access to the water, Hon Son has a town beach and you will have it to yourself. Well, apart from a few lads with a boom box.

I resisted my inner-Karen frustration at the intrusion and concentrated on dog-paddling in the aqua blue water, taking in the mountain, the village and the boats in one sweep and wondering if the iridescent clouds meant rain. And listening to Vietnamese rap at the same time.

Rooms with a view at Paradise Retreat will set you back about $120 a night. Photo: Deirdre Smith

There is some intriguing accommodation

Set near the beach and on the high side of the road, the Paradise Retreat is a series of boxes, all containing variously styled rooms with a view. There is an elevated pool too, for freshwater strokes as you survey the harbour beyond. Starting from $120 a night, it’s not Vietnam-cheap but it is design hotel-cheap.

In the other direction past town, the beach at Bai Bang offers timber bungalows placed in a crazy hodge-podge to fit into the hills rising from a curvaceous bay.

The timbered terrace Alu Koru restaurant at street level has views of it all and a range of coffee that, quite shockingly for Vietnam, can come in at about $3 a cup.

They remember your coffee order

Vietnamese robusta coffee is strong and thick, and cafe lounging is a morning ritual. Pull up on your motorbike, a quiet chat, a game of cards, maybe a bowl of noodles and why wouldn’t you?

But after teaching them how to make a long black, there was great consternation one morning. I had ordered a ca phe sua da, a cold milk coffee that seems like a grown-up milkshake. The owner came out to check. Had her waitress made a mistake? Crazy foreigners changing their coffee order!

In the eight days we were there, we encountered only five others, who all averted their eyes, least we spoil their island idyll.

Plastic chairs are just the spot for sundowners and sunset. Photo: Deirdre Smith

You are unlikely to be troubled by any traffic if you rent a motorbike to explore the island

Villages on the exposed north coast exist only for fishing, and one had the highest boat to sea square-metre-ratio that I have encountered. There is a temple on the point from which to admire it.

Further along, a coffee cart has opened for sundowners; customers sat on little plastic chairs and watched the surf hit the pier.

Hon Son is a working island

While I will accept that sun-dried fish is very tasty, the reek of it drying in the sun, fresh from the morning catch, made me loath to grab a sample.

The main street has one or two tourist shops where mainlanders can buy kiddie-sized Hon Son T-shirts and souvenir jars of the aforesaid dried fish. I took some back to my friend in Ben Tre.

The village itself is intriguing; the few narrow back lanes, too small to be called streets, have the obligatory fresh food market and, while the bright vegetables are appealing, I will take my meat refrigerated, thank you.

Even in this outpost, there is history

It is hard to imagine why the French needed to be here, but the back lanes still contain colonial houses hiding among the general clamour of commerce and the blue shutters are now likely to open onto a terrace set up to sell shoes.

I walk slowly past, pretending to look at plastic buckets but really trying to peek into the high-ceilinged rooms beyond.

A new concept in takeaway food. Photo: Deirdre Smith

And one reason not to

Let’s just say that fusion cuisine has not yet hit Hon Son. Pizza, that most ubiquitous of tourist food, is a distant dream. Pho soup, stir-fry with rice and banh mi are on an unending loop, but so to is fruit juice squeezed before your eyes.

As befits a poorer region, the banh mi is a smear of pate with some raw vegetables, the bread makes the good stuff go a long way. Forget lemongrass chicken spilling out of your crispy roll, this ain’t Parramatta.

Getting there

One ferry to to Hon Son departs each morning from Rach Gia, taking 90 minutes. Rach Gia is a 5½-hour bus ride from Ho Chi Minh City.