



This tour closed for a while because the roads are under maintained
Unlike other tour companies that start cycling in the city’s heavy traffic, we take you by car/taxi to the countryside to bike in the village.
If you desire to explore Can Tho Mekong as deep as possible, then be sure to join us on this SECRET CAN THO BIKE TOUR: Visit an organic cacao farm, a peaceful local homegrown garden, hidden villages, and rice fields (seasonal). Enjoy scenic rides along small canals to gain a deeper understanding of Can Tho’s Mekong life on this halfday cycling and sightseeing tour.
When people ask me what to see in Mekong today. I tell them view our MekongDelta365.

Nowadays, there are more and more green and responsible tours which are meaningful and educational as well. This is why Can Tho noodle factory is getting popular for both Vietnamese and foreigners to come and explore the cuisine culture and the typical local life in Can Tho, Mekong Delta.







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Minh was full of energy, stories, and smiles. We rode together like a little family—six of us from different countries, united by wonder. The back roads of Can Tho unfolded like a painting. We passed jackfruit trees, children flying kites, and canals with lazy boats drifting past. The cacao farm felt like something out of a storybook. Minh shared the history with such pride and passion that I found myself savoring every sip of cacao milk not just for the taste—but for the tradition behind it. The fruit garden was fragrant and lush. We sat under a tree, eating rambutans, as Minh told us stories about growing up in the area. It was intimate, slow, and beautiful. One of my favorite days in Vietnam, hands down.
Lam made us feel welcome from the first moment. His gentle voice and deep knowledge of the area made every turn on the bike feel meaningful. We cruised through quiet hamlets and canals that reflected the sky like glass. At the cacao farm, Lam translated a joke from the farmer that made everyone laugh. It reminded me how connected we all are, even without the same language. The fruit garden was like a living classroom—we learned, tasted, and smiled. But the rice fields… oh, the rice fields. It was harvest season, and everything shimmered in the afternoon sun. I didn’t expect a bike ride to touch me so deeply, but this tour changed my idea of what travel can be.
With Hannah guiding us, the tour felt like poetry in motion. We glided through small trails and canals, the green around us vibrant and soothing. The Mekong showed its most gentle side—no crowds, just quiet beauty and local life. At the cacao farm, Hannah helped us understand the full story of chocolate—from soil to pod to glass. I never knew such care and time went into every step. The cacao milk tasted like something from childhood—rich, honest, comforting. We stopped at a tiny house where an old woman offered us mangoes from her tree. No plan, just kindness. These are the moments I’ll remember most.
This wasn’t just a bike tour—it was a passage through living history. Thomas led us on a route that touched not only the natural beauty of the Mekong, but also its memory. The highlight for me was the visit to the ficus tree. Seeing its massive, intertwined roots while hearing how it once sheltered guerrillas gave me goosebumps. The cacao farm added warmth to the tour—literally and emotionally. The owner welcomed us like old friends, and the fresh cacao milk was better than any café drink. Thomas made everything feel personal, like we weren’t just guests, but neighbors being shown around. The scenery was straight out of a dream: tiny bridges, blooming flowers, rice fields dancing in the wind. A deeply moving, highly recommended experience.
The tour with Duy was a blend of joy and discovery. From the moment we got on the bikes, the world shifted gears—no traffic, no horns, just quiet village life. Duy had a way of connecting with everyone: the farmers, the elders sitting by the road, even the kids running alongside us with bright eyes and laughter. The cacao farm was a revelation. Duy showed us the old family-run production and explained how chocolate was born from the pods. I had never tasted cacao milk before—smooth, earthy, and sweet all at once. Riding along the rice fields, we stopped to talk with a farmer who let us hold a freshly harvested sheaf. Duy translated everything. It was the kind of personal moment you can’t plan, only feel lucky to witness. I left feeling lighter, happier, and more grounded.
Chris made the day feel like a bike ride with an old friend. He kept the pace perfect for everyone, and stopped often to point out unique plants, animals, and views. The Mekong countryside felt alive under our wheels—rustling leaves, birdsong, the laughter of children. We visited the cacao farm and tasted the freshest chocolate drink I’ve ever had. Chris explained how the family uses every part of the cacao—from beans to husks. I loved the rustic charm of the place, and the passion behind their craft. Then came the rice fields—vast and golden. We stood there for a while in silence, just taking it in. Chris said, “This is what peace looks like.” I couldn’t have said it better myself.
David’s enthusiasm was the spark of our trip. From the first pedal, he was cracking jokes, waving to everyone we passed, and showing us how alive the Mekong countryside is. We cycled beside banana groves, coconut palms, and vast stretches of green rice paddies. The cacao farm was incredible—full of rich smells and handmade tools. David translated a story from the farmer about a flood that almost took out the whole plantation, and how they rebuilt. The cacao milk was cold and comforting, like a gift from the earth. We picked jackfruit in the fruit garden and tasted it under the shade of towering trees. David explained how each plant plays a role in daily life, and by the end I felt like I had a connection not just to the land, but to the people who live from it.
Hannah guided us through one of the most moving experiences I’ve had in Vietnam. We started the ride through quiet lanes where mango trees leaned over fences and villagers offered waves and greetings. The light was golden, the breeze cool—it was perfect. The giant ficus tree took my breath away. Its roots were like arms, wrapping the earth, reaching skyward. Hannah explained its role during wartime, how it shielded fighters and held secrets. I felt a chill despite the sun. The cacao farm and fruit garden balanced the intensity with sweetness. We laughed, tasted, learned. Hannah shared not just facts, but feelings—how the land is healing, how people remember and grow. It was more than a tour. It was a walk through memory.
Lam is not just a tour guide—he’s a storyteller, a bridge to the heart of the Mekong Delta. As we pedaled past canals and thatched homes, he painted pictures with his words: tales of farming, local legends, and his own memories growing up nearby. At the cacao farm, we saw the full life cycle of chocolate. Lam introduced us to the family who runs it, and we saw their tools, their drying racks, even the fermenting bins. I never thought I’d enjoy cacao milk this much—it was better than any milkshake. The ride to the rice fields was like stepping back in time. Farmers with conical hats bent over their work, ducks waddled between paddies, and water buffalo stared at us with gentle eyes. This tour touched something deep in me—it was peaceful, real, and very human.
Minh brought an infectious energy to our afternoon. As we biked through sleepy villages and shaded country lanes, I felt like I was seeing a softer, slower side of Vietnam. Children waved from doorways, and old ladies tending their gardens offered us fruit with gentle smiles. The cacao farm was an unexpected delight. Minh knew every step of the process and answered all our questions with a mix of science and charm. Mr. Cacao even posed for a photo with us! The homemade cacao milk was thick, creamy, and unforgettable. In the fruit garden, Minh’s knowledge of local flora was impressive. We tasted star apples and longan, and learned the Vietnamese names for each. The ride through the rice fields was pure serenity—sunbeams slanting across green waves of grain. I felt like I had slipped into a poem.