South Ham Ninh

The eastern side of Phu Quoc Island is where most of the seahorses are caught and landed (brought to shore), either by trawl boats or by compressor divers. An and I have spent a ton of time on the northeastern side, but less in the south. The main town in the south, Ham Ninh, has a market that contains hundreds, if not thousands, of seahorses each day. Whenever I'm at Ham Ninh, I'm in weird mood because I'm surrounded by so many dead (or soon to be dead) adorable sea babies.

Seahorses for sale in a tank at the Ham Ninh market

Recently, An and I spent two days at the main Ham Ninh port, but we didn’t see any seahorses landed there. Knowing they had to come from somewhere nearby, we decided to head to a village to the south. Sure enough, seahorses are brought off the boats there and then sold at the market.

South Ham Ninh Village in the background

After several weeks of good relationships with fishers at other ports, we waltzed into South Ham Ninh (as I like to call the village) expecting everyone to show us their seahorses, no questions asked. That was not the case. A few fishermen obliged, but two in particular whisked off their goods within seconds. I saw easily 50 seahorses per fisherman, but the buckets containing their catch were handed to women on motorbikes and driven immediately to the market. I tried desperately to follow them, wanting to know everything I could - but they were gone.

Bucket o' seahorses - recently caught by compressor diver

Frustrated, An and I went home. What were we supposed to do?

The next day, we went back to South Ham Ninh and the same thing happened. Seahorses arrived, we asked to count them, they disappeared.

Finally, on the third day, I was frustrated enough to say I’d pay to see the seahorses. For $10 we were granted permission. I quickly counted the seahorses, aware of the tense emotions of the fishers and buyers around me. After two minutes or so, I was finished – a boat with two divers had caught over 60 seahorses in one day! I handed back the bucket and the seahorses were motorbiked off to the market.

An and I weren’t sure what to make of it. There was no way I’d be able to pay $10 every day to count those seahorses. Then a buyer came up to us and told us what a mistake we'd made, that now the whole community would expect us to pay to see their seahorses. I was devastated - I definitely don’t have the budget to pay to see all these seahorses!

So we decided to go visit the house of the fisherman who catches crazy amounts of seahorses. In a somewhat odd parlour chat, we drank Mountain Dew and An tried his best to explain why we want to see his seahorses. He finally agreed to let us see them, and even to let us follow him the next day when he would be diving for seahorses.

We organized our dive gear and left at around 8am, after delays due to low tide. We saw six seahorses, while our boat captain caught about 25 (20 years of fishing experience gives you a slight advantage, I guess).

Pregnant little fellow!

Whenever I'm diving, I'm searching madly for seahorses, but my mind also does random things. I sing songs to myself, or think about what I'm going to do later. I've recently discovered some wine that costs $2.59 a bottle. It’s terrible, but it’s bearable as a spritzer so I was looking forward to making one later. That drink was not to be, however...

When we reached land, we started to pack up the taxi. The driver is one of my favourite people on Phu Quoc. He is friendly, plays ridiculous music all day long, and doesn't charge us as if we’re tourists.

I could see a group of men on a porch beckoning me over. “Em, oi!” They called. I walked over to share a few shots of rice wine. Once the taxi was loaded, An joined me. We were in a circle with two compressor divers, two other men, and a prominent community leader. The next two hours were a blur of sharing shots and eating seafood…

My family probably can’t believe it, but I've literally thrown every former food hesitation out the door. That evening, I ate mushrooms followed by chicken liver followed by a "wild animal" that I hope was not dog. Then came the interesting stuff - snails that were chewy like rubber, clam after clam, squid ... Then I saw Mr Community Leader slicing up a cuttlefish - that was covered in ink. An gladly accepted the piece he was offered, and encouraged me to do the same. What the hell, I thought. Ally in Canada would never even think about eating that, but Ally in Viet Nam just throws caution to the wind! I ate the ink-covered flesh, and black liquid dripped down my lips and chin. I wasn’t bothered in the least, perhaps because I was five rice wine shots deep at this point.

Familiar faces started to join us on the porch - buyers and fishers, who started becoming more friendly with us. The community leader assured us that any time we need anything, we need only go through him. A buyer agreed to set up at oxygen tank so I can count live seahorses without them dying. I was elated. In a community where I thought my reputation had been potentially ruined, we suddenly had so many options!

By the time we left, it was past 8pm. I thanked our taxi driver profusely, who sat and chatted happily with everyone the whole time. I collapsed in bed with a gurgling stomach and a blurred brain, but I was happy!

Boats of South Ham Ninh in the fading evening light