Monkey magic on Vietnam’s Son Tra Peninsula

I’m excited about this trip. It’s my first visit to Vietnam. Although truth be known, I may be even more excited about how luxurious the accommodation is.

I receive an email from Stephen Scourfield which says, “This assignment looks like one for you”. He knows me too well. Looking at its website, I can see that the five-star InterContinental Danang Sun Peninsula Resort is my kind of place.

Each of the resort’s 189 rooms and suites have terraces and ocean views, looking out over the golden sands of Bai Bac Bay.

There are multiple dining venues, including those serving Vietnamese, Japanese and Italian cuisine. Not to mention the Michelin-starred restaurant La Maison 1888, which is set in a colonial-style Indochine mansion and focuses on French cuisine with a modern twist.

There’s a spa, a hair and nail studio, a yoga pavilion and a 700m palm-fringed beach which sits in front of the resort’s two infinity pools.

The resort is designed by artist and architect Bill Bensley. The decor, which takes inspiration from Vietnamese temples, culture and nature, is bold, opulent and quirky but it’s also utterly fabulous.

But there’s one thing that is making me a bit nervous.

The resort is set within the jungle, on the mountainside in the Son Tra Peninsula Nature Reserve. This reserve is home to about 1300 red-shanked douc langurs, as well as colonies of macaques.

Staff pride themselves in having been party to the rehabilitation of the critically endangered douc langurs (it is estimated that there are only 2000 of these primates remaining in the wild). But numbers are climbing. Before the resort was built as few as 200 remained on the peninsula.

The resort was designed making sure there was minimum disruption to the primates’ natural habitat, including minimal tree removal and replacing the trees that were cut down. There is an ongoing program to maintain the douc langurs’ natural ecosystem so its numbers can continue to thrive, including the building of “monkey bridges” in the resort to allow langurs and other wildlife to safely navigate the resort and find feeding opportunities without crossing the ground.

Resident naturalist Quan Huynh helps monitor the local population, research local biodiversity, and protect genetic diversity. And guests can enjoy complimentary eco tours and nature walks, where they will learn about the wildlife, environmental sustainability and conservation measures on the peninsula.

But I digress, back to my initial concern . . . monkeys.

Given the success of the conservation measures, it means I may encounter monkeys when I stay at this resort. And while they are cute at a distance, I’m not sure I want to come into close contact, no matter how adorable they are.

I’ve just checked into my Terrace Suite Panoramic Oceanview room (and what a luxurious room it is) and am chilling on the terrace, enjoying the silence and the view of the bay.

I’ve been warned not to leave the room door open, or even unlocked, because the peninsula’s macaques have figured out how to get into the rooms. They must be strong — the door is quite heavy to slide open. I was also told it is cicada season, and I should be aware that the bugs’ morning mating call can be loud.

The resort’s buildings are nestled among the forest, so I’m surrounded by trees. Behind me are some magnificent flame trees, abundant with red-orange blooms. Looking up, I see movement through the leaves and spy three doucs sitting on the branches.

Yikes, they are pretty close to my balcony. I hope they don’t decide to visit.

But five minutes in and I’m fascinated. These monkeys are cute with a capital C. Their faces are soft orange on top — like a painted mask — and the lower half covered with fluffy white beards. Their bodies are mottled grey, black and silver, with white arms. Their reddish-brown lower legs make them look as if they are wearing knee-high socks. Long white tails hang poker-straight down, which, I later learn, helps with their balance.

Another douc joins the group. They have no interest in me, they are quite content eating leaves in their tree. I’m quite taken with these little creatures, I don’t know what I was nervous about.

Next morning, it’s about 5.15am, and now I know why I was warned about the cicadas. The rhythmic, pulsating drone has interrupted my slumber, but I don’t mind. It’s a soothing sound and before long I drift back to sleep. I get used to this pre-alarm wake-up call each morning, it makes me appreciate this little slice of heaven where I’m immersed in nature, all be it surrounded by five-star luxury.

That afternoon I’m lazing by the Long Pool. The resort’s 50m infinity pool is the perfect spot to relax, enjoying the tropical view and the peninsula’s peace.

I’m about to take a dip when I catch sight of two doucs, arms and legs wrapped around the trunk of a tall tropical almond tree behind the pool. The young leaves of this tree are a particular favourite of the doucs.

One douc shimmies to the bottom of the tree and pauses, acting as lookout. The other arrives at the bottom of the trunk and, quick as a flash, jumps across the ground and makes its way up another tree. The other douc quickly moves up the second tree.

They share a tall, thin trunk which sways back and forth with their weight, as they pick the leaves off the spindly branches.

It’s sometimes easier to spot the doucs by the long white tails, and I notice there are two more in the tree. One has a tiny baby wrapped around it’s middle. Mother and baby leap as one, from one branch to another.

This is a real treat, I’m captivated by their antics for the next 30 minutes.

I see the little one reach out and feed itself as its mum holds it tight. And then all five monkeys are replete. The troop makes its way deeper into the canopy and out of view.

On my final morning, it’s just gone 5.30am and I sleep through the first wave of cicada song. Curious about sunrise, I step on to my balcony. The air is cool and still, the watery blue sky is streaked with pale pink. A fishing boat sits in the bay, its net cast in a wide circle.

I scan the tree line when I hear a rustle in the leaves in front of the terrace. After a few minutes I am rewarded with a glimpse of a long straight white tail in the branches below.

I look closer, and there it is, a glorious, white-bearded orange face peering out from the leaves. The douc scurries further out on the branch, arm stretching to strip some leaves. It sits contentedly eating, head slowly surveying the surroundings.

It hops from branch to branch, eating as it goes. I know there must be more doucs around, so I keep my eyes trained on the canopy.

And before long there’s a flurry of movement among the leaves and another two smaller doucs appear.

For 15 minutes I stand statue-still as I watch all three doucs swinging from branch to branch, enjoying their breakfast.

The smaller two disappear into the centre of the green as the larger douc stops eating and begins to groom itself. Starting at its head, it picks at its fur, moving down its body until it reaches its feet.

And then it too moves into the greenery and the leaves are finally still. The doucs have found each other and will now be huddled together, content and sleeping off their breakfast.

I can’t believe my luck, they are so close to my balcony, it’s the perfect end to my trip.

It’s been such a privilege to be so close to these creatures in their natural habitat.

While this is one of the most luxurious hotels I’ve ever stayed at, I think these monkeys have just pipped the luxury experience as the highlight of my stay.

The second wave of the cicada chorus starts up. I enjoy the crescendo as I take in the last moments of this heavenly view.

danang.intercontinental.com/

+ Leyanne Baillie was a guest of InterContinental Danang Sun Peninsula Resort. They have not influenced this story, or read it before publication.