T
HERE’S ONE RESORT that saw all this coming,
and without fanfare has been beyond-eco since
inception in 2001, although that’s not their
preferred descriptor. “The original vision was a
low-density development, driven passion for the
environment, intelligent use of materials and
commitment to the island culture. We don’t call
ourselves an ‘eco-resort,’ and are sensitive to the
fact that in many areas we still face challenges,”
Dominic Scriven, who co-founded Mango Bay Resort and
Vietnamese environmental group Wildlife at Risk, said.
“Having said that, if you look round Phu Quoc there don’t
seem to be many as seriously engaged in the mission.”
Mango Bay has built their own private waste-water
filtration systems, channeling the gray water from their
kitchens and laundries through four all-natural systems
made up of cleansing plants and layers of gravel—the
lush beds overflow with beach spider lilies, pandans and
crimson canna flowers. I also saw the woodshop, where
they refine timber for building, and make the furniture and
accessories, down to wine bucket stands. The resort runs
a kindergarten and pays the school fees for kids of staff;
motorbike-accident insurance for the whole family is
also covered. The straws here? They’re made of rice flour.
There’s nary a pool, but whatever. You’ve got two
beaches and a coral reef 50 meters offshore, and gorgeous
sunsets from two delicious restaurants. For years the
whole place was air-con free, the thatched roof, acacia-
walled, stilted bungalows designed to maximize natural
airflow with the help of fans. But the addition of rammed
earth villas (adobe lasts forever) brought low-energy air-
conditioning units that will soon be in all the rooms.
While staying here, I noted at least four other guests
carrying plastic out of the ocean. The point is not that the
beach is dirty; it isn’t. But observing this made me
wonder if the kind of people who stay at Mango Bay are
the kind for whom grabbing a piece of trash from the sea
is as natural as carrying around reusable tote bags. Or if
a critical mass has realized pretending the occasional
piece of floating litter isn’t there won’t make it go away.
The ink isn’t yet dry on the story of Phu Quoc. There’s
been gangbusters development, yes: the first casino in
Vietnam where citizens of the country may gamble,
hotels with 1,000-room wings, traffic in the town center
and overcrowding of outlying islands thanks to Chinese
tour groups. An estimate put the number of hotels at 600
with 18,000 rooms. But this 575-square-kilometer isle is
still 70 percent forest, and is coming of age during a time
of shifting environmental awareness. “Vietnam has a
bigger, better local movement than our neighbors,” W WF’s
Trang said. “Public/private pushes swell from the ground.”
On one particularly successful dive, off North
Pineapple Island, Forain and I saw juvenile barracuda,
giant pufferfish, scorpionfish, a kaleidoscope of nudibrachs,
a slew of pink skunk clownfish, and what seemed like a
playgroup of spotted sweetlips tumbling all over each
other. “It’s not too late to reverse the degradation of the
ecosystem,” he told me later. “Here, there’s still something
to save—compared with other places on earth.”
