A 3,000-kilometer coastline is one of nature’s best gifts to Vietnam, bringing about not just ample seafood, but also a motherlode of sea salt.
Salt fields in Cà Ná, Ninh Thuận, whose salinity is highest in Vietnam.
For centuries, salt has entered Vietnam’s collective memory as a cultural symbol that’s both familiar and profound. In our folklore, salt often represents deep affection: “Muối ba năm muối đang còn mặn / Gừng chín tháng gừng hãy còn cay” (The salt remains salty even after three years / Gingers are just as spicy nine months later). Besides, “đầu năm mua muối, cuối năm mua vôi” (buy salt when the year begins, buy lime when the year ends) is a tradition that reflects ancient Vietnamese’s belief in salt as a token of luck, because the pureness of salt can dispel the bad mojo of an unfortunate year.
Vietnam’s coastal communities have made full use of seawater to produce salt for hundreds of years. Along the length of the country, salt farming exists in 19 provinces across all three regions. Amongst those, Ninh Thuận is the “salt capital” of the central region thanks to ideal geographical conditions allowing it to put out nearly 50% of the national yield.
Salt is an indispensable part of life and a symbolic icon in Vietnamese culture.
Mother Nature bestowed on Ninh Thuận breathtaking landscapes, but also a type of acrid climate that will deter even the most enduring visitors. Luckily, it is this constantly dry and hot weather with low humidity and precipitation that makes the province the holy ground for salt farming. Moreover, Ninh Thuận’s 100-kilometer long coastline gives it ample access to saltwater to produce tasty salt grains. Here, salt production concentrates in communes like Phương Hải, Tri Hải, Nhơn Hải (Ninh Hải District) and Cà Ná, Phước Diêm, and Phước Minh (Thuận Nam District). Salt farms, in total, account for almost 3,000 hectares of the province’s area.
Harvesting salt in Tri Hải.
Only by driving past Ninh Thuận during July and August did I finally understand why this place is nicknamed the land of razor-sharp wind and blistering sun. Spectacular hills flow through the foreground while in the distance, mountain ranges stretch straight into the emerald ocean. Each blow of the wind carries that distinctive maritime brackish taste. Once the hills are gone, you’ll immediately be greeted by patches of fields full of mounds of stark white salt. Some squares have been irrigated recently, looking like a placid lake. Others are sparkling with salt crystals, as white as fresh snow. Here and there, conical hats bobble as farmers move about to rake in salt. A sense of urgency lingers in the hot air of August. The more intense the sun is, the more evaporation takes place, so working outdoors in extreme heat is a built-in part of the job. The hotter the day, the busier the work.
I dropped by a salt farm in Phương Cựu, Ninh Hải District, one of the central region’s oldest and largest salt co-opts. I met Bùi Trọng Hòa as he was collecting salt crystals. “The salt trade is mainly active from December to August of the next year. July and August are peak months as the heat is the strongest in the year. It rains very rarely in Ninh Thuận, but when it does, it can destroy an entire [salt] field that’s drying,” the uncle told me as he continued raking. Hòa shared that, if weather permits, his two sào (500 square meters each) of farmland can produce 4 tons of salt after one harvest. Usually, salt crystals will form after 7–10 days of drying. If the sun is consistent and there’s no rain, it only takes 5–6 days from when the field is irrigated with seawater until the first batch can be collected.
Under the searing summer sun, Hòa’s shirt was soaked with sweat. His hands gripped the rake tightly. He deftly moved the salt from one field to another. Pyramids of salt started piling up on the water surface in neat rows. The field surface became a giant mirror reflecting the scenery; the symmetry was astounding. In the middle of everything, salt farmers were like artists painting white brushstrokes on the canvas of Ninh Thuận.
Võ Văn Lâu, another farmer in Phương Cựu, harvests salt.
On the field, everyone has their own task. One rakes salt into mounds while another shovels the final product onto wheelbarrows, each transporting outside into a larger pile. Võ Văn Lâu couldn’t give me the exact number of trips he takes every day because there were just so many: “Salt farmers like me sell our bodies to the trade. If nature blesses us, we have salt. When it’s time to harvest, we rake and transport countless fields until there’s no more salt to collect. There are times in the middle of the day when dark clouds start forming everywhere. We’re very nervous because if it rains, the past few days of waiting are wasted.” He then slowly pushed the heavy wheelbarrow down the field paths to a gathering point just outside. From there, wholesalers will take the salt to distributors and refiners.
The collected salt is moved from the fields to a central gathering point.
Salt farming requires not just strength, health, and endurance, but also ample folk knowledge and experience, as farmers need to observe the working conditions and make adjustments accordingly. The process might involve several steps, but overall, the two main ones are prepping the field surface and salt crystallization.
According to Hòa, around the lunar October every year, farmers will begin treating the field surface before irrigation takes place. The fields are cleaned to remove trash, weeds, and moss, then the ground surface is flattened. After that, farmers form the raised edges of the fields before drying out the earth's surface in the sun to minimize water seepage. Long before, salt production followed the sand-drying method, but over time, this has shifted to industrial-scale methods. Farmers also make use of tarps to cover the field surface to retain seawater. Salt created this way is cleaner and purer, containing fewer contaminants. At the moment, around 2,400 hectares of fields in Ninh Thuận use tarps and around 630 hectares follow the naked ground method.
There are two main ways to produce salt: sand-drying and tarp-drying.
Once the field surface has been treated, farmers irrigate the fields using seawater through a custom system of pipes. In the first stage, the fields are referred to as “ruộng phơi” (drying field). After some of the water has evaporated, the remaining saltwater is channeled to another field, “ruộng ăn,” to promote crystallization. Whether evaporation is fast or slow depends on several factors such as field surface area, the ground’s thermal absorption, and weather conditions. After 7–10 days, white salt crystals would appear like snow.
The rate of crystallization depends on field surface area, the ground’s thermal absorption, and weather conditions.
Salt-making is a physically demanding job that hinges a lot of weather patterns. During wetter months, the salt fields must rest. But as the farmers told me, “each trade has its own joys.” If fishermen are delighted to see boatloads of fish every morning, the happiness of salt farmers lies in the white flakes of salt that glimmer in the sunlight. Thanks to the tireless work of farmers in Ninh Thuận, the distinctive flavors of the central ocean are enjoyed by Vietnamese from every corner of the country, encapsulated in tiny grains of sparkling salt.
