Think Vietnam, and you might not think of luxe resorts and sublime eateries. But winning the hearts and minds of the well-financed traveler is this nation’s new revolution.

If anyone should intuitively understand the appeal of an up-and-coming economy, it’s a deal pro. But even the most adventurous road warrior might hesitate before venturing to Vietnam in search of luxury. This is, after all, a former ostensibly “socialist” regime, one that for decades catered almost exclusively to sandaled backpackers and contrarian adventurists. Could a recovering socialist nation truly deliver a luxe experience to the traveler of means? In search of an answer, I recently set forth to traverse Vietnam from south to north. It was a form of intensive, long-distance due diligence — my equity stake a traveling budget of almost unlimited resources.

Ho Chi Minh City

I arrived in Ho Chi Minh City (better yet, call it Saigon, as the locals do) after a flight on United ­Airlines, which flies directly from either Chicago or San Francisco via Hong Kong. The first thing I noticed upon hitting the ground: the city’s robust, almost frenetic energy.

On a humid evening awash in neon, my taxi ­maneuvered through weaving motorbikes and three-wheel cycles before dropping me in center city at the newly refurbished Caravelle (011-84-88-234-999; ­caravellehotel.com). During the war, network bureaus headquartered here, and Vietcong rocket teams would sight their weapons on downtown Saigon by the neon Caravelle (sailing ship) atop — until auth­orities finally figured out to turn the damn thing off. Today, the ambience is decidedly more mellow, all sleek marble and quiet service.

After having spent 20-some hours at 30,000 feet, I seized the chance to savor the panoramic overview of the city — and a single-malt whiskey — at the hotel’s Saigon Saigon Bar, the city’s premier hangout. A bracing shower and a deep sleep in my wood-trimmed suite later, I ventured into the neighborhood the next day for a glimpse of Saigon’s wartime history.

Across the street, the refurbished Rex Hotel was once a military billet. The nearby Eden Building had housed journalists and spies; the coffee shop was the site of “Radio Catinat,” the political rumor mill and supposed target of the bicycle bomb in Graham Greene’s 1955 novel The Quiet American. And as I ­wandered into the Continental hotel, the setting for much of Greene’s novel, I felt the resonance of decades of violence.

Still, my jet lag required additional pampering, which I received back at the Caravelle in the form of a whirlpool in the spacious outdoor pool, and a deep-tissue massage at the gleaming spa. For dinner, I was treated to a bowl of steaming pho, the classic Vietnamese soup of ginger, basil, noodles and beef. Caravelle handled it with aplomb.

Phan Thiet For the traveler of means, the transportation options in Vietnam are surprisingly robust: I could have flagged a taxi, hired a driver or helicoptered the ­hundred miles up the mountain-fringed coast to my next destination, Phan Thiet, Vietnam’s choicest sun-and-fun area. I decided instead on a first-class train ticket, a chance to doze for three peaceful hours as villages sped by. Upon arrival, I was chauffeured from the station to the secluded tropical gardens, emerald lawns and pavilions of Ocean Dunes Golf Club (011-84-62-822-393; vietnamgolfresorts.com). A full-service resort, Ocean Dunes offers sprawling suites that overlook a private beach and come with wireless Internet access — in case you feel the urge to buy or sell something of great value, just to stay in practice.

For practice of a different sort, Golf magazine rates the ninth hole at the resort’s par-72 Nick Faldo bentgrass course one of the 500 best in the world. Throughout all 18 of the layout’s offerings, windswept dunes determine the natural contours — affording the feel of a Scottish seaside course, but one bordered in bougainvillea.

One starry night, I was driven in a golf cart to a tiny ancient temple right off a green, where I dined by torchlight on delicate fish in a basil-infused broth with a side splash of nuoc mam, the pungent local fish sauce that tastes a hell of a lot better than it smells. Young dancers entertained me as if I were a Vietnamese emperor. You can’t experience that at Pebble Beach.

As an alternative to Ocean Dunes, the city will soon also boast the Princess d’Annam Resort & Spa (011-84-62-682-222; princessannam.com) — which, upon opening this summer, promises to be the highest-end lodging in Phan Thiet. An all-villa luxury boutique resort, it provides a fusion of contemporary and traditional aesthetics, and prides itself on indulging any whim that its guests could wish for, such as . . .

Da Lat

. . . this one: For my 75-mile trip north to the cooler highlands of Da Lat, the Princess d’Annam arranged a motorcycle-sidecar caravan — a dashingly retro (if slightly reckless) ride. My motorcycle driver careened along the dramatic, winding roads, while villagers waved us on as if we were competitors in the Vietnam Grand Prix.

To calm my nerves and soothe my soul, Princess d’Annam also arranged, halfway through the trip, a luxury lunch stop by a waterfall. There I relaxed with a full massage from one of the resort’s expert masseuses, followed by a seven-course classic French pique-nique with formal service and paired wines, crafted by the spa’s resident chef.

Vietnam, suffice it to say, was holding its own on the luxury front.

Wind-whipped but refreshed, I arrived at Da Lat — which reminded me at first glance of an old-world European beauty spot, something like an Asian Baden-Baden. Created as a French colonial hill town early in the last century, its grand villas, hundreds in Art Deco style, face the wide boulevards. One vestigial limb from its early incarnation is the sublime course at Dalat Palace Golf Club (011-84-63-821-201; vietnamgolfresorts.com), which Golf Digest rates the best in Vietnam — and one of the finest in all of Asia. Bao Dai, the last emperor (and then the country’s most prominent hacker), spurred its construction in the 1920s. The classic layout meanders around a series of lakes, affording panoramic views from its undulating greens.

If it’s pursuits of a more adventurous kind you crave, canyoning, rock climbing and kayaking are mere minutes away. But after 18 holes, I opted instead for super-soft adventure — a nap — at my hilltop hotel, the Sofitel Dalat Palace (011-84-63-825-444; sofitel.com). The guest room featured a canopied bed, working fireplace and spacious balcony overlooking a lake. At dinner on the terrace, I tried a chef’s specialty: stuffed baby squash and pumpkin flower, with crab nectar plated in a confetti of edible flora — not the heartiest meal of my life, but definitely among the finest.

Ha Long Bay

After a brief stay in Hanoi at the famed colonial-era Sofitel Metropole Hanoi (011-84-4-826-6919; sofitel.com), then a bottle of Margaux and a medium-rare prime T-bone at the Western-style Press Club (011-84-49-340-888; hanoi-pressclub.com), I headed 100 or so miles east, a three-hour drive past rice fields and villages in a chauffeured Mercedes, to the destination I most wanted to experience: Ha Long Bay. (I could have opted for a helicopter flight, but catching a chopper in ’Nam seemed a bit too evocative.)

There, my overnight accommodation was the ­Emeraude (011-84-49-340-888; emeraude-cruises.com), a floating replica of a three-level 1910s paddle steamer evoking the grandeur of colonial-era Vietnam. Book any of Emeraude’s private cabins — or, if you’re feeling especially indulgent, charter the entire thing — then cruise among Ha Long Bay’s hundreds of odd-shaped limestone islands. Me? I booked the brass-and-wood bow suite with the captain’s view. From my oversized bed, I gazed at endless craggy islands rising through the mist while my feet and neck were expertly massaged and my buzzy mango concoction readily refilled by smiling attendants.

Hoi An

One of the few villages in Vietnam to have escaped destruction from any of its recent wars, Hoi An is now a World Heritage Site that exudes charm from every covered bridge, pagoda and antiquity-filled ­museum. All that — and sublime accommodations — make this a fine final leg for dealmakers in need of a preflight pamper-fest.

As a bonus, Hoi An is known most for exceptional handmade silk and wool clothing. Scores of stores advertise one-day tailoring. The city’s finest is Thu Thuy (011-84-05-108-61699), where beautiful shopgirls take your measurements (slowly) with a smile, offer tea and ship the clothing to you if time is short.

Life Heritage Resort Hoi An (011-84-51-091-4555; life-resorts.com), a tranquil haven on the Thu Bon river, offers a full-service spa and bilevel rooms. But the area’s — perhaps the country’s — finest respite is to be found a bit north, on a one-kilometer stretch of pristine China Beach, at The Nam Hai (011-84-49-286-630; thenamhai.com). With 60 split-level guesthouses and 40 grand pool villas — each boasting landscaped gardens and views of the South China Sea and Cham Islands — Nam Hai delivers a multitude of amenities: from flat-screen TVs to espresso machines to private, temperature-controlled pools.

Indeed, Nam Hai serves, in a way, as the final ­confirmation of what can happen when capitalism is blended with intoxicating traditions and gracious people. All in all, one might say, not so bad for an emerging market. 

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