As I gazed out at a chartreuse field dotted with water buffalo and ponds topped with floating lotus, the train’s gentle momentum lulled me into a meditative state. I was headed to Quy Nhon, a beach city in central Vietnam, having just departed the historic fisherman’s village of Hoi An, a UNESCO World Heritage site. The train was intended simply to be a mode of transport. But with my legs cocooned in a blanket, my feet cradled by soft slippers, my stomach full from a decadent multicourse meal, and my hands cupping green tea sourced from a 500-year-old garden, I realized this was so much more than a means of travel; this was a travel experience in and of itself. I lost track of time admiring the shifting scenes—from vibrant rice paddies to modest backyards with incense laid out to dry—that revealed another side of Vietnam. I made the right choice, I thought.
A 7 a.m. departure will get passengers from Hoi An to Quy Nhon in six hours, and then onward to Nha Trang in another five hours.
Photo by Anna Haines
That choice had been how to travel Vietnam. A year prior, I’d spent all my time in Hoi An. On this trip, I wanted to venture further. Given Vietnam’s long, skinny shape, my instinct was to go via plane, but I was turned onto the idea of a train journey when I found out my hotel, Anantara Hoi An, had launched a luxury carriage in 2020. “The Vietage by Anantara railway carriages offer the most unique way of traveling Vietnam slowly and sustainably, transporting guests into a world of glamour and nostalgia with fine dining, free-flowing drinks, and spa treatments on the move,” said general manager Michael Wirz. I was sold.
More than the train’s luxury appeal, I was attracted to the idea of experiencing the North-South railway, which was built in the 1880s under French colonial rule and served as an essential supply route during the Vietnam War. After reunification, it was renamed the Reunification Express and became a symbol of postwar national unity, connecting Hanoi in the north with Ho Chi Minh City in the south.
You can still take that full 40-hour trip today via the regular commuter rail, but the Vietage—the only luxury train option in the country—attaches a carriage to the back through one section of Central Vietnam, from Da Nang to Quy Nhon ($450 all inclusive), where there’s a stop, and then onward to Nha Trang (for an additional $450). The entire length of the luxury portion is 11 hours. Anantara helped me book a 45-minute transfer from Hoi An to the train station in Da Nang, where I rode for six hours to the midway point at Quy Nhon.
Free-flowing cocktails, wine, and beer are avilable in the bar car.
Photos by Anna Haines
Entering the carriage, I felt as if I were walking through a portal to the early 20th century. Twelve private booths separated by rattan partitions—a nod to Indochine architecture, which flourished under French colonial rule—led to a luxury dining car anchored by a white marble bar with leather stools. The attendants’ mint green uniforms, shaped like the traditional Vietnamese national costume, áo dài, with embroidered lining said to be inspired by the railway tracks, accentuated the air of a bygone era.
In my booth, I tucked my toes into the provided slippers, and soon a smiling attendant appeared to ask if I was ready for my complimentary massage. After 15 minutes of having my shoulders kneaded to the soft rhythm of the train, I stepped into the hallway and lingered at a window to admire the forested mountains in the distance.
A three-course lunch met me back at my seat, featuring choices such as duck breast drizzled in orange sauce; a seafood salad with mussels, calamari, and tiger prawns sourced from the Cham Islands; Hoi An chicken, a traditional rice dish with pickled local vegetables, chili paste, and fish sauce; and a dessert of local strawberries served atop creamy coconut yogurt. The cà tím kho, a braised eggplant stew served in a clay pot, was the best rendition of the dish I tasted on my entire trip.
Vietnam’s obsession with coffee overshadows the country’s rich tea culture, the bartender told me, so while I was excited to sip the café dừa (coffee made with condensed milk and coconut cream), I also tried a sampling of teas: malty black tea grown in the highlands of Lam Dong province, 100-year-old pu-erh leaves hand-fried in a cast iron pan, and other local varieties that made me wonder if they’d come from the fields outside my window.
An overnight option is available at a discounted price, where booths are transformed into sleeper cars with beds.
Courtesy of Anantara Hotels & Resorts
As we neared the end of the six-hour ride, I spotted two towers of the 11th-century Banh It temple from the Champa Kingdom. We also passed Mui Dien, one of Vietnam’s oldest lighthouses, and if I’d carried on to Nha Trang, I would have seen Bình Thạnh, the country’s longest wooden bridge. While I would have loved to explore more, Vietage guests aren’t able to hop on and off at stops along the way; still, I was happy to arrive in Quy Nhon, where I had the rest of the afternoon to get some beach time at Anantara Quy Nhon Villas. Having my villa and private pool overlooking the resort’s secluded sands made me glad I wasn’t returning to Da Nang right away, as much as I was curious to experience the evening train service (discounted at $340, all inclusive), during which a three-course dinner is served and the booths are converted into beds with a mattress, pillow, and blanket.
While the Vietage hopes to expand service north, the train hasn’t reached Hanoi yet, so from my beach respite I carried on to the country’s capital by plane. The flight was short and convenient but also unremarkable; by the time I was checking into the storied 124-year-old Sofitel Legend Metropole Hanoi in the bustling Old Quarter, I’d forgotten about it. The train trip, though, lingered in my mind. Next time I’m in Vietnam, I’ll take the rest of the Vietage route, from Quy Nhon to Nha Trang. I’ll taste the different menu (which includes an elaborate afternoon tea service with pastries and caviar) and see the striking blue bays of the East Sea, giving me yet another unique view of this diverse country—one I’m sure will stay with me long after I hear the last whistle blow.
