On the shores of Vietnam’s famous bay, a new InterContinental resort raises the bar high—very high—on local lodgings.

Photographs by Christopher P. Hill

Left to right: InterContinental Halong Bay Resort’s beachfront at sunrise; the indoor pool at the resort’s Club InterContinental Lounge.

In truth, I had harbored doubts about visiting Ha Long Bay. Too crowded, people had told me; too polluted. Tourist numbers at Vietnam’s top natural attraction have certainly climbed since a six-lane expressway from Hanoi opened in 2018, cutting the journey time from about four hours to two; in 2025 alone, more than eight million people made their way here. Environmental watchdogs, for their part, continue to raise alarms about the bay’s fragile ecosystem, which sits offshore from the country’s largest coal-mining region. And yet, such thoughts dissipated as the car transferring me from Hanoi’s airport entered the coastal flatlands on the outskirts of Ha Long City, revealing the first glimpses of a jade-green sea fringed by a phalanx of craggy karst outcrops. It was mesmerizing.

Declared a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1994, Ha Long Bay is, together with the adjacent Cat Ba Archipelago, home to more than 1,000 islands and islets scattered across the shallow inner reaches of the Gulf of Tonkin. It’s the flooded remnant of an ancient limestone massif whose eroded peaks now protrude above the water in phantasmagorical shapes. The city on its shores has changed too over the decades, as its economy began shifting from coal and fishing to tourism. Nowhere is this more evident than in the Bai Chay area west of town, which has morphed from a sleepy beach destination into a full-fledged tourism hub where massive land-reclamation projects have yielded palm-lined boulevards, promenades, and a reshaped shoreline. High on a hill, a Ferris wheel crowns an amusement park created by the Sun Group, one of Vietnam’s largest developers.

What has brought me here is the area’s first international luxury resort. Situated at a discreet distance from the busier side of Bai Chay, InterContinental Halong Bay Resort (from US$153 a night) makes for a commanding presence in the Ha Long Marina Urban Area, a master-planned residential and entertainment enclave with nearly four kilometers of beachfront. And it’s a stunner. From an entrance courtyard fringed with tropical greenery, a walkway flanked by koi ponds and trickling water features leads guests into a soaring lobby studded with turquoise sofas and rattan-backed armchairs beneath a sculptural chandelier inspired by Vietnam’s traditional bamboo basket boats. Enormous picture windows frame knockout views of the bay’s iconic seascape.

Bangkok-based interiors firm P49 Deesign has done a fine job of imbuing the resort’s sleek, contemporary interiors with a genuine sense of place. The 174 guest rooms and suites in the main wings echo the muted natural palette of the scenery beyond their wall-to-wall windows and balconies, with rippling marble tabletops, brass accents, and freestanding tubs in double-vanity bathrooms. Another 60 rooms occupy a residential tower—some with pools on their balconies—while 41 lavish multibedroom villas boast underground parking and private elevators.

“We’re really a destination resort,” general manager Jesper Larsen tells me over lunch in Marina Kitchen, the property’s expansive main restaurant. “Most people come to Ha Long to visit the islands, maybe enjoy an overnight cruise, then leave. Here, they have a reason to linger.”

The bedroom of a beachside villa; InterContinental Halong Bay Resort’s poolside facade.

Left to right: Chargrilled squid at Marina Kitchen; InterContinental Halong Bay Resort’s poolside bar, Del Mar.

Many reasons, in fact—food being one. Marina Kitchen, a seafood-leaning brasserie, is overseen by chef The Anh, formerly of the Regent Phu Quoc. The breakfast spreads are terrific—everything from salmon-and-caviar bagels to foie gras banh mi—but it’s at lunch and dinner that his passion for elevating local ingredients really shines—think chargrilled whole squid with green chili sauce, or pan-seared fritters of minced mud crab and pork paste skewered on sugarcane sticks, each dish sprinkled with flower petals (the kitchen also turns out a mean beef-cheek tagliatelle). Then there’s La Baguette, tucked away from the beach at the base of the residential tower. Styled as a modern Parisian bistro, what it lacks in views it more than makes up for in top-grade steaks and chef The’s inventive approach to French classics, from a rich caramelized onion soup with Hokkaido scallops to bluefin tuna tartare paired with tamarind-leaf dressing and glass noodles infused with local mantis shrimp. Soon, the resort will also unveil a Cantonese dining room and a rooftop Japanese restaurant called Roku, whose adjoining alfresco bar is set to become a prime spot for sundowners.

The resort’s four-hectare site is fronted by a wide, well-groomed beach, with trickling fountains and other water features interspersed throughout. Lined with comfy sun loungers and cabanas, the main swimming pool is just steps from the sand and lies adjacent to Del Mar, a breezy bar and lounge with striped daybeds and a wall-size installation of hand-dyed bamboo slats and rattan—by Vietnamese artist Nguyen Trung Nghia—that references Cua Van, a floating village deep inside Ha Long Bay. Another pool, next to the sixth-floor Club InterContinental Lounge and reserved for club-level guests, is a skylighted indoor affair with potted palms and more sweeping sea views.

On the wellness front, the spa is centered on a grotto-like sunken water garden that mimics one of the bay’s many hidden lagoons. Its dimly lit corridors lead past Zen-like rock arrangements to eight treatment rooms where therapists deliver rhythmic bamboo massages and Sodashi facials.

Off-site activities are also abundant. One day, I headed off with chef The to the seafood market in Ha Long City, a drive that took us over the dramatic cable-stayed bridge that links the two sides of town like a giant cat’s cradle. Surrounded by nha ong “tube houses”—Vietnam’s elongated take on the classic shophouse—and the din of morning traffic, the market is an atmospheric warren of stalls that shows how rich these waters remain, brimming with all manner of fish, mollusks, and crustaceans.

After making some purchases that I would later enjoy for lunch, the chef brought me to a streetside kiosk where a man was busy pounding a two-handed pestle, mashing up the ingredients for a beloved Ha Long specialty: fried squid cakes. We bought half a dozen for the drive back to the resort.

Left to right: The resort’s expansive lobby; squid cakes at Ha Long Market.

The next morning, it was finally time to visit the bay itself. While the InterContinental doesn’t have its own boat yet, it can arrange private tours through a yacht-charter company on nearby Tuan Chau Island, a sprawling marina hub linked to the mainland by a two-kilometer causeway. There, I boarded a compact motor cruiser with a guide named Hieu, who pointed out the two main types of karst formations—fenglin, which rise straight from the sea, and fengcong, or clusters of conical peaks—as we entered the nearest group of islands.

With the summer high season over, there were maybe only a dozen or so big boats on the water. “Sometimes it can be like rush-hour traffic,” Hieu said with a sigh. There was, however, a long line of day-trippers awaiting us in the immense chamber of Sung Sot Cave, one of the bay’s most visited attractions. Thankfully, lunch was a quieter affair: a seafood feast served up in the floating canteen of a pearl farm. We had the lagoon all to ourselves.

The water, it must be said, looked much cleaner than I had expected. Only a few scraps of bobbing polystyrene marred the surface.

“Things are much better than 10 years ago,” Hieu confirmed. “Plastic is banned on tourist boats now, and a lot of people take part in trash collection. They’ve even started closing the big coal mines on the mainland. I think the government is doing the best they can to protect the environment.”

That alone seemed cause for a final toast back at Del Mar, where I sipped a rummy tiki cocktail as twilight gathered over the bay. Soon the sun had slipped away, replaced by faint stars and the twinkling lights of fishing boats flecked across the dark water. Once again, I was mesmerized.

Left to right: Karst scenery outside Sung Sot Cave; setting tables in Marina Kitchen.

This article originally appeared in the December 2025/February 2026 print issue of DestinAsian magazine (“A Haven in Ha Long”). Buy a single issue or subscribe here.

Ha Long Bay Gets Its First International Five-Star Resort

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