For some travellers to Vietnam, it’s all about the pho. I, however, am not one of them. Though this justifiably famous rice noodle dish is of course perfectly nice on occasion, especially for breakfast, I often find it bland and mushy, and, consequently, am not its greatest fan.

Not so it’s less famous, but for me far more delicious rice noodle sister, bun. Round, rather than flat, and of a texture with a little more bite than pho, bun is used in all manner of noodle soup dishes and a whole bunch of dry ones too; and, unlike its firmly Northern relative, is eaten up and down the length of Vietnam, with infinite varieties along the way. I ate bun countless times in Vietnam; here are a few of the most memorable.

I guess you could say the love affair began in Hanoi, where I fell head over heels for the city’s famous bun cha: patties and slices of barbequed, marinated pork, served in a light broth (sometimes with vegetable slices), accompanied by fresh herbs and of course, bun.

But it was the dish in the opening photo which really opened my eyes to the possibilities of bun. This is bun oc, snail and rice noodle soup. I’d been eyeing this dish up for a while before I had the opportunity to try it, which turned out to be on the afternoon of my 25th birthday, as I was wandering around the Old Quarter. On a bustling shopping street full of people making purchases for Tet, I saw this rather taciturn lady

ladling out a soup whose aroma made me instantly ravenous. I settled down on a teeny stool and waited with happy expectation – but, quell horreur! It turned out she’s just run out of snails!

Though disappointed, I decided that the broth smelled good enough to eat just on its own, and my goodness was I right: richly savoury, with a salty seafood-essence nicely balanced by tomato and the fresh herbs, it was probably the most flavoursome broth I ate in the whole of my stay in Vietnam – and seeing that I was enjoying it so much, the lady sweetly fished out a few stray snails from the bottom of the broth pot for me. They were, needless to say, amazing, but alas, far too few.

My next favourite on the bun trail was in the lovely, modest town of Quy Nhon, which, when I was there, was in full Tet swing, meaning that many eating establishments were closed. This one though,

a little streetside stall near the beachfront, wasn’t, and very lucky for me too, because the bun here (dish name unknown) was fantastic. Packed full of goodies – I wrote down ‘two kinds of sausage, barbequed meat, cucumber, shredded carrot and daikon, herbs, crispy things, peanuts, hard-boiled egg, various sauces’, but I’m pretty sure there was more – this was a bun that punched above its weight, and kept me coming back time and time again.

Finally, we come to the last, and best, stop on the bun tour – Hoi An in central Vietnam, where I ate extraordinarily well. This bun was at a stall just 5 minutes away from my hotel, which again, was so good that I had to keep on going back. The dish was bun thi nuong (grilled pork with cold rice noodles), and though I didn’t get to eat many other versions, I’d confidently say this would beat any competition hands down.

Isn’t that a mouth-watering sight? On top are deep-fried shallots and crushed peanuts; then a luscious mix of various sauces; then the meat (in this case pork); then the noodles and finally hidden away out of sight, fresh herbs and beansprouts. I’m still fantasizing about this one.

As I wrote some months ago, one of the things I was looking forward to most about Vietnam was the chance to eat lots and lots of durian. I imagined that the spikey fruit would be everywhere once I'd crossed the border from China, and thought also that they'd be so cheap that I would feast on them every day.

Crushingly, as I quickly discovered, this was not the case. In Hanoi, vendors sold sickly-looking durian for almost as expensive as in China, and everyone I questioned on the subject told me I'd have to wait till I got down south to indulge my durian fantasies.

Luckily, they were all right. On my very first day in Saigon, I saw more durian being sold than I had in the entire rest of my time in Vietnam, and it was in Saigon that I found the bounty pictured above. As well as looking fantastic they were cheap too (30,000 dong - around $1.50 - per kilo), and so I bought a lovely little one-person sized specimen and retreated in glee to the shady environs of the botanical gardens.

From Saigon, I went to Ben Tre, a region of the Mekong Delta famous for its fruit. One of the main reasons I went there was to see durian trees, and though I wasn't successful in this mission (frustratingly, only because of time constraints), I did get to eat another two in the space of 24 hours. This was the first:

eaten on a boat as the sun set gloriously over the Mekong; and the second, the very next morning, from a roadside vendor as I waited for my bus back to Saigon, which, incredibly for a 1kg fruit, yielded 11 portions of fruit (usually you only get 5 or 6 in a durian of that size).

It's often noted that durian tends to inspire a love or hate reaction. But what is not so often related is how those that fall into the former camp tend to feel themselves part of a sort of exclusive club, one whose pleasures only its members fully understand.

That's how it feels to me anyway, and especially in Vietnam. Everytime I ate durian or talked about it with a fellow lover, their whole face would light up like a christmas tree. I saw it in Dai, my guide in Ben Tre, who told me about the different types of durian, the best season to eat them, and where they grow. I saw it too in the eyes of the old woman who walked past me as I ate durian in a Saigon park, who doubled back to ask me 'it good?' with a beaming smile. And I know also that it shows on my own face, as when the vendor in Ben Tre cracked open the amazingly bountiful durian and laughed hysterically at my reaction.

It might be a while before I get to eat as much durian as I've eaten in the last week - but I have these memories to sustain me till then.

I've been holding off from writing this post for a while now, keeping my fingers crossed that I'll eat a breakfast that beats this incredible morning feast I ate in Hoi An last week. So far, though, it's not happened, and to be frank, it would take something pretty bloody spectacular to top this one. So, here it is: The Best Breakfast of my Life.

As with all good breakfasts in Vietnam, it started early. Up and out of bed and on the streets by 7, I was rushing to the market when I encountered this: soymilk, Vietnam-style.

For me, this epitomizes all the differences between China and Vietnam's drinking cultures. In the former, soymilk is drunk hot or warm; in the latter, it's given the same treatment as coffee and tea - iced to within an inch of its life, which in China would be seen as a serious threat to one's health. Me, I adore it, and so nicely refreshed and ready for more substantial fare, I headed to the riverfront market, where, right on the edge of the quay, I found this:

The vendor was serving my quang, one of central Vietnam's most famous noodle dishes: springy rice noodles, beansprouts, herbs, shrimp, quail's eggs, chopped peanuts and a dash of lime juice.

Totally delectable, and even better with the beautiful view.

Most people would probably be satisfied by these two offerings, but predictably, not me. Feeling the weight of all Hoi An market's delicious foods on my shoulders, I felt duty bound to keep eating, and so headed next to a stall whose wares I had sampled the day before.

This is banh khaoi, and the stall came with a recommendation that did not disappoint. In the batter of freshly made pancakes nestles a piece of pork and half a shrimp, upon which is piled beansprouts, fresh herbs and green banana slices; the whole lot is then wrapped up in a sheet of rice paper, and dipped in a sweet and tangy sauce.

Though by this point I was pretty full, I figured I had just enough space for one more drink from a sinh to stall I'd spied just a few doors down.

And oh boy, was a glad that I did, for look what I got.

This wasn't your standard, middle of the road type sinh to, but a luxurious sinh to fit for a queen. Not only was it a blend of a number of different fruits (instead of the normal one), it had a topping which took the drink to a whole different level: crunchy, roasted slivers of coconut, a whole dried Chinese date, and juicy, lychee-flavour jelly cubes. Many different textures going on there, and for some perhaps too many, but I couldn't get enough of it - although, as you might imagine, I drank this last part of The Best Breakfast of my Life very, very slowly.

Last week, I was lucky enough to spend a few days staying less than 100 meters away from the gorgeous beach you see above. This is Non Nuoc, aka China Beach, where American soldiers would come for R'n'R during the war. I doubt it's changed much since those days, and although development of a stretch of 5 star resorts is already underway, it's still blissfully free of tourists, and locals continue their lives undisturbed.

This includes fishing, of which there were two methods that I found particularly fascinating. The first was fishing from coracles, that, when not out at sea, were picturesquely strung along the shore.

I love the paraphernalia of fishing, and these boats are especially beautiful.

Though I never had it confirmed, I guessed from the presence of nets in the boats that the fishermen use these to catch fish from the coracles, which included sardines and swordfish...

...and I also guess that they fish way out in pretty deep waters, because I never saw any fishing near land - only carefully negotiating the waves for the return to shore.

The second note-worthy fishing at Non Nuoc was for sea snails, called oc in Vietnamese.

These pearly, tiny snails were caught right in the surf, barely 50 meters out to sea, and using an extraordinary tool a bit like a broom with a long, narrow net instead of bristles,

which two men would drag along the seabed...

...and then empty into waiting buckets.

Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside...If I hadn't been forced to move on by my guesthouse's closing for the holidays, I think I'd have never left...

Some people like to know what they're putting in their mouth. Not me. I relish trying unknown foods, and many things I've eaten remain a mystery.

Not this beautiful plate though, which I devoured in Da Nang the other day. Thanks to my wonderful local friend Kent (more on whom coming soon), I learnt that the dumplings on the right and back of the plate are called banh bot loc, a recipe for which you can find at this marvelous blog. With the pink and grey dumplings on the left (which I guess are both kinds of cha lua, Vietnamese ham), the blob of chilli jam in the middle, and the chilli powder and fresh coriander sprinkled on top, it made the most delectable snack to satisfy the mid-afternoon munchies.

Banh bot loc vendor
Bach Dang street, near the market
Da Nang