As we were in no rush today, Karen decided she wanted breakfast served to her in the Dining Room. I later learned that the fact it was the only place that served Raisin Bran and would bring her a mimosa had absolutely nothing to do with this decision.
I, on the other hand, rather over-ordered by mistake. I had wanted a banana pancake but was instead presented with a stack of five fluffy pancakes. I had no room to eat them but felt it was my duty to try. I failed heroically.
After breakfast we disembarked and headed for the free shuttle to Cara World, about 30 minutes away and apparently offering beaches, cafés, restaurants, shops and a water park. Reader, hope was alive.
Rather than sticking to the advertised “every 30 minutes” schedule, the coaches sensibly left as soon as they were full. Most of the journey was simply getting out of the military base. Today I noticed that the two checkpoints were guarded by Vietnamese naval officers who looked about ten years old but were carrying extremely dangerous-looking machine guns. Childhood clearly ends early here.
As soon as we got off the coach we were surrounded by people trying to sell us tours and taxi rides. They followed us relentlessly, like flies. Swat one group away and another appeared. I even went to the toilet and found more waiting outside the exit.
Whatever we had imagined Cara World to be — it wasn’t. In fact, it was a bit odd. It felt like someone had started building a resort: a newish café and bar joined to a small shop, some nicely laid-out gardens, shower blocks and tiki-style shelters by the beach. And then… just stopped. Either the money ran out, the enthusiasm waned, or Covid happened. The pathways were already in need of repair and the whole place felt slightly melancholy.
We wandered down to the beach, which was fine but nowhere near as nice as Nha Trang. It was a shame to see a line of plastic rubbish deposited along the high tide mark. While that’s not entirely Cara World’s fault, employing someone to clear it up once a week wouldn’t hurt.
Karen wanted somewhere shaded to sit and, pleasingly, we found some adult swings right on the edge of the beach. Suddenly Cara World became more acceptable. Like ten-year-olds (but thankfully without machine guns), we swung merrily for 45 minutes.
It was almost as if no one else had dared sit on the swings because within minutes the other six were occupied by OAPs swinging away enthusiastically — if you get my drift.
We watched a few people attempt to enter the sea, but the waves were rough and enthusiasm was short-lived.
Eventually we concluded we had seen everything Cara World had to offer (still no sign of the water park) and waited for the next shuttle back. It was a shame as the place has great potential and is a beautiful part of the world, it just needs someone to complete the vision.
After dumping our rucksack in our perfectly formed cupboard and collecting the MacBook and iPad, we headed to the Lido for a late lunch and some much-needed cold drinks. We then migrated outside where, purely accidentally, we consumed a mixture of refreshing cocktails, cider and G&Ts.
Karen amused herself catching up on The Traitors, which I somehow managed to stream despite us not having the streaming Wi-Fi package. I caught up on life admin, which is far less glamorous but equally necessary.
After a couple of hours I needed somewhere cooler, so we headed to the Crow’s Nest for a large hot drink, finishing the afternoon with some bubbles — as one does.
For dinner, Lois had invited us to join them and their friends from Vegas at 7.30pm. As it was designated Orange Night, Karen made an effort and wore her orange dress. I did not. We were surprised how many people fully embraced the theme, though it did nothing to convince me to participate in future.
Conversation over dinner ranged from the Royal Family to the Korean War, as you’d expect. Lois complained that her Dover sole was much smaller than Karen’s, so they brought her another one. I had the beef tenderloin, which melted in my mouth.
Slightly later than planned — not that it mattered — we headed to the World Stage where the Rolling Stone Lounge band were performing at the Orange Party. As ever, José was on hand to whip everyone into a party mood, apparently fuelled by boundless energy.
Lois and Chris created their own dance floor near us. Earlier, with no embarrassment whatsoever, Lois had shown Karen her hip replacement and knee scars from surgeries over the last three years. Both she and her Superman are determined to live life fully, with a wonderfully unapologetic Aussie attitude that completely belies their ages.
We were still reeling when we learned Chris had just turned 80. He could easily pass for 25 years younger. They’ve already invited themselves to stay with us — and vice versa. It’s unusual for Karen to take to people so quickly, but she’s been confident, relaxed and happily starting conversations about everything and anything.
Around 10.45pm we retired to the cabin where, once again, I was asleep almost immediately while Karen started reading The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper on my recommendation.
I drifted off hoping I’d wake up to another victory from Carrow Road — which, remarkably, is the first and only home match we’re missing during our three weeks away.
