There are mornings in Amanoi when I wake up to a golden light pouring through the window. A ray of sunlight touches the edge of the white sheet, filters through the green canopy of the porch, and spreads a layer of glittering gold on the sea below. Peace here is not something to be sought, it is something available in every breath, in the sound of the wind running along the hillside, in the waves whispering in my ears even when my eyes are closed.
Aman in Sanskrit means peace, Amanoi means “oh peace”. But it was not until I set foot here that I understood that it was more than just a beautiful name. It was also an original and vivid emotion, permeating every smallest detail that this place brings.
Amanoi is nestled in the middle of Nui Chua National Park.
Amanoi is located in isolation on the slopes of Vinh Hy, between the old forest of Nui Chua National Park on one side and the immaculate blue sea of the Central region on the other. From Cam Ranh airport, the nearly 75-minute drive gradually took me away from all the noise. The only sound left as the car slowly climbed the hill was the sound of the wind rustling through the treetops, the strangely peaceful sound of my heart.
Amanoi does not “show-off” luxury. On the contrary, it hides everything very carefully, very cleverly, elegantly like the style of a long-time professional, without needing to show off but still enough to make people remember forever.
Forest and sea intertwine in a wordless harmony
The way back to peace
To get to my room, I had to pass the large swimming pool – where the water surface was as calm as a mirror. The sky was reflected in a completely amazing way, as if the whole nature was pulled one step closer. In the distance was the sea, the calm brown color of the typical Ninh Thuan rocks, lying quietly as if they had been there since the beginning of time. I walked on the stone path, the sound of insects chirping under the green canopy of trees, embracing the way home.
My room faced the ocean. The window revealed a canopy of trees so thick you could almost touch it. The ocean was in the distance, close enough to hear the waves, far enough away to not intrude on the silence I had.
The sky was reflected in a completely amazing way, as if all of nature was pulled one step closer.
Every time I leave the room to go somewhere, trekking, swimming, or simply reading a book by the pool, when I return, I always feel as if an invisible hand has quietly passed by. The coat I left loosely on the chair is now neatly hung. The book I left unfinished is placed on the table. The messy slippers on the porch are now straightened. Everything is neat and tidy, but not showing off sophistication, just enough for me to feel: I am taken care of, noticed.
There were afternoons sitting at my desk, closing my computer after a day that was still unfinished, looking up, I saw the red-orange sunset embracing the beach below. The last light of the day quietly poured into the room, covering the wooden door with a warm, dreamy color. I just sat there watching, doing nothing more, thinking nothing more. It was just an afternoon that passed slowly, lightly.
The window frame opens up to a beautiful view of the bay.
Goga and the dawn appointment on the mountain top
At 5am, it was still dark when the car took us to the trail leading into the forest. Flashlights were turned on, the sound of footsteps on dry ice, insects, and wild animals echoed in the quiet night. No one said anything. The group walked in silence, as if each person was having a private conversation with nature.
Trekking Goga is not difficult, but it is not easy if you are not used to the solitude. The deeper you go, the more the forest closes in. But each bend opens up a different slice of nature: a patch of sky starting to brighten, a strong wind blowing up from the mountain pass, dry bushes rustling as wild birds suddenly fly away... Looking up, I saw Amanoi getting smaller at the foot of the mountain - like a small peaceful dot in the middle of the immense green of the forest and the sea.
Looking up, I saw Amanoi gradually shrinking at the foot of the mountain.
Reaching the top of Goga, the reward was a sunrise embracing Vinh Hy. The first light of the day poured honey onto the sea, cast shadows on the dark cliffs, and dyed the eyes of those standing there - silent and stunned. No one said anything, we just stood there for a long time. There were moments when silence was the perfect response to that beauty.
Reaching the top of Goga, the reward is a sunrise embracing Vinh Hy
Return to yourself
Amanoi is not a place for vibrant experiences, but a place to return - back to nature, and more deeply, back to yourself. The sophistication here is not ostentatious, but lies in the way everything blends together so gently that it is almost invisible. It is the rooms hidden among the hillsides, the stone-paved paths kept clean, the meditation music playing every afternoon at the spa, or the way the staff bows to you warmly as if welcoming a loved one from far away.
Amanoi is not a place of vibrant experiences, but a place of return - back to nature, and more deeply, back to yourself.
At Amanoi, doing nothing becomes a valuable act. I used to sit for hours on the chair on the porch, just to watch the clouds drift, to listen to the wind blow, to feel the passage of time in its truest form. There were no deadlines, no interrupting sounds, nothing to rush. Just me, complete and whole.
On my last night at Amanoi, I sat by the pool under a starry sky, watching the distant ocean darken in the night sky, with only the moonlight casting silver streaks. I thought about the name "Amanoi" - oh peace.
Well, there are places in the world where I don't just go to relax. I go there to relearn how to live slowly, to relearn how to listen to myself, in the midst of a beautiful, unpretentious natural space.
Perhaps, that is the greatest luxury that Amanoi brings.
