"Wait, HOW do we cross this street again?" I whispered to Michael as we stood frozen on the sidewalk in Hanoi, watching the tsunami of motorbikes flow endlessly in both directions. A local woman with a toddler simply stepped into the chaos, walking at a steady pace as the sea of scooters miraculously parted around her. Welcome to Vietnam, where your first life skill is learning that traffic lights are merely decorative suggestions and crossing the street requires equal parts courage, faith, and a complete disregard for self-preservation.
It's been two months since we returned from our wild one-month adventure through Vietnam, and I'm still dreaming about the steaming bowls of pho, the breathtaking limestone karsts of Ha Long Bay, and yes, even those death-defying street crossings. Vietnam wasn't just another trip for us - it was a full-sensory explosion that's left me craving fish sauce on practically everything I eat back home (much to Michael's horror).
This travel diary captures our journey from south to north, with all the mouthwatering meals, cultural mishaps, and unexpected magic we encountered along the way. So grab your imaginary helmet, hop on our virtual scooter, and join us as we zip through the organized chaos that is Vietnam!
Ho Chi Minh City: Where our love affair with Vietnamese coffee began
Our Vietnam adventure kicked off in Ho Chi Minh City (still called Saigon by many locals), and let me tell you - nothing prepares you for stepping out of an air-conditioned airport into the wall of humidity and organized chaos that is this metropolis.
"I think I'm melting," Michael announced approximately 45 seconds after we exited the terminal, his carefully ironed travel shirt already showing impressive sweat patterns. Little did we know that this would become our natural state for the next month.
The great coffee revelation
If there's one thing that helped us cope with the heat, it was discovering Vietnamese coffee on our very first morning. We stumbled into a tiny sidewalk café where plastic stools the size of children's toys served as seating arrangements.
"Cà phê sữa đá?" the server asked, and we nodded enthusiastically despite having no idea what we were agreeing to. What arrived changed our lives forever: dark, intense coffee slowly dripping from a small metal filter into a glass containing condensed milk, all served over ice.
Michael took one sip and his eyes widened. "This is... this is..." For once in his life, he was speechless. I still have the photo of his blissed-out coffee face as my phone background.
By day three, we had tried twelve different coffee variations and mapped out a "coffee crawl" across the city. Michael became obsessed with egg coffee (cà phê trứng), a Hanoi specialty that somehow made its way south - a custardy, dessert-like concoction that tastes nothing like eggs or coffee but somehow like the perfect combination of both.
War Remnants Museum: A sobering reality check
Not all of our Ho Chi Minh experiences were as lighthearted as our coffee adventures. The War Remnants Museum hit us with the brutal reality of Vietnam's recent history - a stark, unflinching look at the Vietnam War (or as it's known here, the American War).
Walking through the exhibits in silence, seeing the devastating effects of Agent Orange and other wartime atrocities through photographs that don't hold back, we found ourselves emotionally exhausted. We sat in the museum's small garden afterward, trying to process what we'd seen.
"It's important to see both sides of history," Michael said quietly as we watched a group of American tourists exit the museum, their faces solemn and reflective.
What struck us was how Vietnamese people have moved forward without apparent bitterness. Our young guide, Minh, whose grandfather had fought in the war, put it simply: "We look forward, not back. What good does anger do now?"
Cu Chi Tunnels: Where Michael got stuck
We couldn't leave Ho Chi Minh without visiting the famous Cu Chi Tunnels, the incredible underground network used by Viet Cong soldiers. The trip started with us watching perhaps the most bizarre propaganda film I've ever seen, featuring phrases like "American killer heroes" describing local fighters.
Michael, ever the adventurous one, insisted on crawling through a section of tunnel that had been "enlarged for tourists."
"It'll be fine," he assured me. "These are made wider for Westerners."
Narrator: They were not, in fact, made wide enough for a 6'2" Dutchman with broad shoulders.
The sight of Michael stuck halfway through the tunnel, whispering increasingly creative Dutch curses while a line of amused tourists formed behind him, will forever be one of my favorite Vietnam memories. It took two guides pulling from the front and me pushing from behind (while crying with laughter) to extract him.
"Not. One. Word." he muttered as he dusted himself off, his dignity significantly more bruised than his body.
Street food adventures and misadventures
Ho Chi Minh's street food scene caused us physical pain - not from food poisoning, but from the impossible challenge of choosing what to eat each day. From sizzling bánh xèo (crispy pancakes) to fragrant bowls of bún thịt nướng (grilled pork with rice noodles), each meal was a revelation.
Our food tour guide, Linh, became our food therapist, teaching us essential Vietnamese phrases like "không ớt" (no chili) after witnessing Michael's near-death experience with a particularly spicy bowl of bún bò Huế. His face turned a shade of red I didn't know humans could achieve, while tears streamed down his cheeks.
"Is spicy?" he gasped between gulps of water (rookie mistake).
"Yes, very famous for spicy," Linh replied, watching with amusement. "Water makes worse. Try rice."
That evening, Michael developed a sudden interest in learning how to read Vietnamese menus, particularly focusing on identifying chili symbols.
Hue: Imperial grandeur and the great bicycle incident
After the sensory overload of Ho Chi Minh, we took a short flight to Hue, Vietnam's ancient imperial capital. The change of pace was immediate - though still chaotic by Dutch standards, Hue felt almost serene compared to Ho Chi Minh.
"I can hear myself think again," Michael sighed contentedly as we strolled along the Perfume River on our first evening.
The Imperial Citadel: History in technicolor
Hue's main attraction, the Imperial Citadel, was high on our list. This sprawling complex once housed Vietnam's emperors during the Nguyen Dynasty. Despite heavy bombing during the war that destroyed much of the site, the restoration work is impressive.
We hired a guide named Mr. Hai, an elderly gentleman with impeccable English and a passion for imperial history. His stories brought the crumbling walls to life, painting pictures of elaborate ceremonies, court intrigues, and the daily lives of Vietnam's last emperors.
"The emperor had many wives, maybe 500 women in palace," Mr. Hai explained with a mischievous smile. "Very busy man."
Michael raised his eyebrows and muttered under his breath, "Sounds exhausting rather than exciting."
The citadel's vibrant yellows and reds popped against the blue sky, making it a photographer's dream. I went slightly overboard, taking 437 photos of essentially the same dragon motif. In my defense, each one had slightly different lighting.
The bicycle adventure that nearly ended us
In what may qualify as our worst travel decision ever, we decided to explore Hue's countryside by bicycle during the hottest part of the day. The tour description promised "a leisurely ride through picturesque villages" which sounded perfectly delightful.
Four hours, two liters of sweat, and one minor crash into a rice paddy later, we learned several important lessons:
- "Leisurely" means very different things in different cultures
- Rural Vietnamese roads are not designed with tourist cyclists in mind
- Water buffalo have right of way, always
The highlight (or lowlight, depending on perspective) came when Michael, distracted by waving at some cute children, failed to notice a ditch and went flying over his handlebars, landing with a spectacular splash in a muddy field. The local farmers found this absolutely hilarious, and soon half the village had gathered to watch the tall foreigner extraction operation.
To their credit, after they finished laughing, they invited us to their home for tea and showed us photos of other tourists who had suffered similar fates. Apparently, we weren't special - they have a whole collection of "tourists falling in our fields" memories.
Royal tombs and tailor-made disasters
Hue's royal tombs scattered around the countryside are architectural masterpieces, each emperor trying to outdo his predecessor with more elaborate final resting places. We visited the tombs of Tu Duc, Khai Dinh, and Minh Mang, each impressive in its own way.
Tu Duc's tomb, designed by the emperor himself, doubles as a pleasure garden where he would write poetry, hunt, and entertain concubines while alive. "He built it to enjoy before death," our guide explained. "Very practical emperor."
Between tomb visits, we made another questionable decision: getting custom clothes made with only 24 hours left in Hue. The local tailor assured us it was "no problem, very fast service," and we foolishly believed him.
What followed was a comedy of errors involving three middle-of-the-night fittings, a mysteriously shrinking waistband on Michael's pants, and me ending up with a dress that made me look like I was auditioning for a role in a 1980s business drama. The final fitting took place quite literally as we were calling our Grab taxi to the train station, with the tailor making adjustments while we stood with our backpacks on.
"Perfect fit now!" she declared, as Michael gingerly sat in the taxi, afraid his seams might give way.
Spoiler alert: they did, in the middle of our overnight train journey to Da Nang. The sound of ripping fabric followed by Michael's quiet "well, that's unfortunate" had our entire sleeper cabin in stitches.
Da Nang: Beach bliss and food coma central
After the historical immersion of Hue, Da Nang offered a completely different Vietnam experience - one with pristine beaches, modern bridges shaped like dragons, and surprisingly cosmopolitan vibes.
"I feel like we've traveled to a different country," I remarked as we drove past sleek skyscrapers and luxury resorts lining the coastline.
My Khe Beach: Where we turned into lobsters
Da Nang's most famous stretch of sand, My Khe Beach (once named "China Beach" by American soldiers who vacationed here during the war), became our home for three blissful days. Despite our best intentions and religious application of sunscreen, we still managed to achieve impressive sunburns within the first day.
"I think I can feel my skin cooking," Michael observed as we lay under our beach umbrella, which had clearly been positioned by someone with a sadistic streak, as it provided shade for approximately 17% of our bodies.
The upside to our reddened state was the countless offers from local women selling aloe vera massages on the beach. After particularly painful negotiations (both financially and physically), we enjoyed daily aloe treatments that saved our vacation and taught us some new Vietnamese vocabulary, mostly related to "stupid tourists" and "so red like tomato."
The Dragon Bridge fire show: A flaming disappointment
Da Nang's pride and joy is its Dragon Bridge, which allegedly breathes fire and water every Saturday night. We joined hundreds of tourists and locals gathered along the riverfront, cameras poised for what the guidebooks promised would be "a spectacular display."
After an hour of jostling for position, the big moment arrived. The dragon's head started to move, and then...
"Is that it?" Michael asked as tiny flames, barely visible from more than ten feet away, flickered pathetically from the dragon's mouth for approximately 45 seconds. The water show that followed had all the impressiveness of a garden sprinkler.
The reactions around us ranged from confused to hysterically amused. A French tourist behind us couldn't stop laughing: "I've seen better fire displays at a children's birthday party!"
To salvage the evening, we drowned our disappointment in seafood at the nearby night market, where we discovered the joy of Vietnamese seafood hotpot and temporarily forgot about the dragon's performance issues.
The Marble Mountains: Where faith met fitness
Da Nang's Marble Mountains combine natural beauty, religious significance, and a punishing number of stairs. These five limestone and marble outcrops are filled with caves, tunnels, and Buddhist sanctuaries.
What the brochures don't mention is that exploring them thoroughly requires the cardiovascular endurance of an Olympic athlete. By the time we reached the summit of Thuy Son (Water Mountain), we were both questioning our life choices and fitness levels.
"I think I'm having a religious experience," Michael gasped as we collapsed at the viewpoint, "because I'm seeing the light and feeling like my soul might leave my body."
The caves housed beautiful Buddhist and Hindu sculptures, with incense smoke creating mystical light beams through natural openings in the ceiling. The most spectacular was the Huyen Khong Cave, an enormous natural chamber with a Buddha statue illuminated by sunlight streaming through a hole in the mountain.
Our descent was considerably faster than our ascent, partly because Michael's legs had turned to jelly, resulting in what he later described as a "controlled fall" down several sections of stairs.
Hoi An: Lantern-lit streets and shopping madness
Just a short drive from Da Nang lies Hoi An, without a doubt one of the most photogenic places we've ever visited. This ancient trading port with its yellow buildings, colorful lanterns, and traffic-free old town stole our hearts immediately.
"If Da Nang is Vietnam's cool modern cousin, Hoi An is the impossibly beautiful, slightly eccentric grandmother," I noted as we wandered the streets on our first evening, watching hundreds of lanterns reflecting in the Thu Bon River.
Ancient Town: Instagram heaven and wallet hell
Hoi An's Ancient Town deserves its UNESCO World Heritage status. The well-preserved mix of Chinese temples, Japanese merchant houses, French colonial buildings, and Vietnamese tube houses creates a magical atmosphere that's enhanced further when the sun goes down and thousands of lanterns illuminate the streets.
What also illuminated was the rate at which our money disappeared. Hoi An is shopping paradise, with hundreds of tailor shops, art galleries, and souvenir stores. Despite our Hue tailoring disaster, we couldn't resist the temptation for round two.
This time, we researched thoroughly and chose one of the more reputable establishments. The result? A beautiful linen suit for Michael and a silk dress for me that actually fit, though our credit card wept silently in the corner.
Beyond clothing, Hoi An broke our luggage weight limits with hand-painted lanterns, leather goods, and coffee beans – because apparently, the 10 bags of coffee we'd already purchased weren't enough.
The cooking class incident
Since Vietnamese food had become our obsession, we signed up for a cooking class that began with a market tour and boat ride, followed by hands-on cooking at a rural farm.
The market tour went smoothly until our guide Ms. Ha asked for volunteers to try fertilized duck eggs (hột vịt lộn), a local delicacy. Michael, trying to be culturally adventurous, raised his hand before I could stop him.
The look on his face as he bit into the partially developed duck embryo will haunt me forever. To his credit, he swallowed it, then immediately purchased three bottles of water while whispering, "The things I do for cultural understanding."
The boat ride to the farm provided much-needed recovery time, though Michael kept muttering "I can still taste it" every few minutes.
At the farm, we learned to make spring rolls, bánh xèo, and pho from scratch. All was going well until the spring roll rolling competition, where my overly ambitious filling-to-wrapper ratio resulted in what our teacher diplomatically called "spring explosion" rather than spring roll.
"Maybe stick to eating, not making," she suggested kindly, while the rest of the class tried not to laugh too obviously.
The bicycle theft that wasn't
Hoi An's countryside is best explored by bicycle, so we rented bikes from our hotel and spent a day pedaling through rice fields and small villages on Cam Kim Island, accessible by a short ferry ride.
The day was going perfectly until we stopped for lunch at a riverside restaurant and returned to find Michael's bike missing. What followed was a panicked half-hour of us trying to explain to locals that we'd lost a bicycle, being met with confused smiles, and wondering how we'd explain this to our hotel.
Just as Michael was rehearsing his "the bike was stolen" speech, a smiling elderly man appeared, riding Michael's bike. He gestured enthusiastically and, through charades and broken English, explained that he'd moved it to a covered area because it looked like rain was coming.
This random act of kindness from a complete stranger became one of our favorite Vietnam memories – that moment when you realize people are fundamentally good and looking out for each other, regardless of language or cultural barriers.
Hanoi: Chaos, charm, and coffee perfection
Our final destination before heading home was Hanoi, Vietnam's capital and a city that feels completely different from Ho Chi Minh. While the south has embraced capitalism with wide boulevards and skyscrapers, Hanoi retains more of its old-world charm, with narrow winding streets and a more visibly traditional way of life.
"It's like someone took the dial of chaos and turned it up to eleven," Michael observed as we navigated the insane traffic of the Old Quarter, where sidewalks serve as motorbike parking, extension of restaurants, and occasionally even as barber shops.
Old Quarter: Where we learned to cross streets like locals
Hanoi's Old Quarter, with its 36 guild streets each traditionally dedicated to a specific trade, became both our playground and our nightmare. The impossibly narrow streets packed with scooters, street vendors, tourists, and locals going about their business created a sensory overload that was simultaneously exhausting and exhilarating.
Our first major achievement was learning to cross the street Hanoi-style. The technique is counter-intuitive for Westerners: you simply walk slowly and steadily into the traffic, never stopping or making sudden movements, and somehow the sea of motorbikes flows around you like water around a rock.
"It's like a trust fall, but with hundreds of speeding vehicles," I explained to Michael, who took three days to work up the courage to cross without closing his eyes.
By our final day, we were crossing eight-lane roundabouts with the confidence of locals, though my heart rate monitor still showed "cardio zone" every time we attempted it.
Street food paradise
Hanoi's street food scene is legendary, and we made it our mission to try as much as humanly possible. From the iconic bún chả (the dish Anthony Bourdain and Obama famously shared) to steaming bowls of phở ga (chicken noodle soup), we ate our way through the city with reckless abandon.
Our most authentic experience came when we spotted a tiny street-side operation with nothing but tiny plastic stools, one bubbling pot, and a line of locals. Without knowing what they served, we simply pointed and nodded.
What we received was bún riêu – a tomato and crab soup with rice noodles that blew our minds. The elderly woman running the stall spoke no English but kept pointing at our bowls and giving thumbs up, beaming with pride as we made appreciative noises.
Communication barriers disappeared completely when food was involved. Our limited Vietnamese vocabulary expanded primarily around eating terms: "delicious" (ngon), "more please" (thêm), and "too spicy for the foreigner" (qúa cay cho người nước ngoài) – the latter becoming Michael's nickname at several establishments we frequented.
The train street controversy
One of Hanoi's most famous Instagram spots is "Train Street" – a residential area where houses are built inches from active train tracks. Twice daily, trains rumble through, causing cafes to hurriedly move their tables and tourists to press against walls.
When we visited, we found police barricades and signs indicating the area was closed to tourists due to safety concerns. While disappointed, we respected the decision – the overtourism had clearly become problematic for residents and dangerous for visitors.
Not everyone shared our view. We watched in disbelief as several tourists argued with police and attempted to sneak past barricades for that perfect Instagram shot.
"This is why we can't have nice things," Michael muttered as we chose instead to enjoy egg coffee at a legitimate café with a view of Hoan Kiem Lake.
Ha Long Bay: Karst mountains and kayaking mishaps
No Vietnam trip would be complete without visiting the iconic Ha Long Bay, with its thousands of limestone karsts rising dramatically from emerald waters. We splurged on a two-night cruise, figuring this natural wonder deserved more than a rushed day trip.
Our ship, the Paradise Elegance, was like stepping into another world after weeks of budget to mid-range accommodations. Our cabin had a balcony overlooking the bay, and the shower – oh, the shower! – had consistent hot water and actual water pressure, luxuries we'd nearly forgotten existed.
Kayaking adventures and misadventures
One of the highlights of Ha Long Bay was the chance to kayak through karst formations and hidden lagoons. Michael and I have a long history of kayaking disagreements, primarily centered around his conviction that I don't paddle properly and my frustration with his backseat steering.
Five minutes into our romantic kayaking experience, we were bickering like an old married couple.
"You're not paddling, you're just splashing water everywhere," Michael complained.
"And you're not steering, you're just going in circles," I shot back.
Our guide, clearly having seen this dynamic play out with countless couples before, smoothly suggested we separate and each join other single travelers. This diplomatic solution saved both our relationship and the peaceful atmosphere of the bay.
In my new kayak partnership with Lisa from Australia, I discovered that perhaps Michael had a point about my paddling technique, as Lisa gently suggested I "try putting the paddle deeper in the water, love."
The cave of inappropriate giggles
Ha Long Bay's caves are impressive natural formations, made somewhat less serene by the addition of multicolored lights that give them a disco-like atmosphere. During our tour of Sung Sot Cave (Surprise Cave), our guide kept pointing out rock formations that supposedly resembled animals or objects.
"This one looks like elephant," he said seriously, pointing at a stalagmite.
Michael and I nodded politely, seeing nothing elephant-like whatsoever.
Then came the moment that broke us. Pointing at a particularly phallic rock formation illuminated with pink light, our guide announced to the entire group: "This one we call 'The Cock Rock.' Very special to Vietnamese people for fertility."
The snort that escaped me triggered Michael, and within seconds we were both shaking with suppressed laughter, tears streaming down our faces as we tried desperately to compose ourselves. Our guide, bless him, interpreted our reaction as appropriate appreciation for this important cultural symbol and nodded approvingly.
Sunrise tai chi and squid fishing failures
Each morning on the cruise began with optional tai chi on the sundeck as the sun rose over the karsts. Despite neither of us being morning people, we dragged ourselves out of bed, determined to get the full experience.
Our tai chi master was a serene elderly man who moved with incredible grace. By contrast, Michael resembled a newborn giraffe trying to ice skate, while I kept turning in the wrong direction and nearly knocking other participants overboard.
"Very good energy," the instructor told us kindly, in what must have been the diplomatic overstatement of the century.
Evening squid fishing was equally unsuccessful but far more hilarious. Armed with bamboo rods and special squid lures, we dangled lines into the dark water, illuminated by the boat's bright lights designed to attract the squid.
After an hour without so much as a nibble, while other guests reeled in squid after squid, our fishing guide took pity on us. Sidling up to Michael, he whispered, "You buy squid from kitchen tomorrow, tell wife you catch, she very impressed." Michael's offended expression was priceless.
The journey home: Bittersweet goodbyes
As our month in Vietnam drew to a close, we found ourselves in the strange position of feeling simultaneously exhausted and reluctant to leave. We'd covered thousands of kilometers, eaten hundreds of meals from street stalls to fine dining, and filled our phones with almost 6,000 photos (half of which were food).
Our final night in Hanoi, we returned to our favorite street food stall where the owner – who'd seen us so many times she'd started automatically bringing Michael's phở with chili on the side – noticed our backpacks and asked through hand gestures if we were leaving.
When we nodded, she disappeared into her tiny kitchen and returned with two small packages wrapped in newspaper. "For airplane," she said in one of the few English phrases she knew. Inside were bánh cookies – her specialty that we'd praised repeatedly.
This small gesture of kindness from someone we'd never really had a conversation with brought tears to my eyes. It exemplified what we'd come to love most about Vietnam – not just the stunning landscapes or incredible food, but the warmth and generosity of its people.
What we learned (about Vietnam, travel, and ourselves)
One month in Vietnam taught us more than we expected about the country, travel in general, and surprisingly, about ourselves.
About Vietnam:
- It's a country of incredible contrasts – from chaotic cities to serene countryside, luxury resorts to simple homestays
- The war is part of their history but doesn't define them; the Vietnamese focus on the future with remarkable optimism
- Food is central to Vietnamese culture, and sharing meals creates connections that transcend language barriers
- Despite increasing tourism, authentic experiences are everywhere if you're willing to step slightly off the beaten path
About travel:
- Slow travel is infinitely more rewarding than rushing; our favorite moments came from places where we stayed longest
- Street food is almost always better than tourist restaurants (and our stomachs survived just fine)
- Learning even a few basic phrases in the local language opens doors and hearts
- The best experiences often come from the biggest disasters (Michael's tailor mishap is now one of our favorite stories)
About ourselves:
- We're more adaptable than we thought – from squat toilets to chaotic traffic, we adjusted to everything eventually
- Michael has a surprising talent for haggling, while I excel at finding the best food in the most unlikely places
- We can survive lengthy periods in extremely close quarters without killing each other (though the bicycle incident came close)
- Our travel priorities have shifted – we now value experiences and connections over landmarks and perfect photos
Our Vietnam must-dos (and must-avoids)
If you're planning your own Vietnam adventure, here are our top recommendations and warnings:
Absolute must-dos:
- Take a cooking class that includes a market tour – understanding ingredients transforms how you appreciate the food
- Spend at least two nights in Ha Long Bay – the day-trippers miss the magical early mornings and evenings
- Get clothes made in Hoi An (but allow enough time for multiple fittings!)
- Try egg coffee in Hanoi – it sounds strange but tastes like liquid tiramisu
- Learn to cross the street properly – it's a life skill and oddly exhilarating once mastered
- Take an overnight train journey – ours from Hue to Da Nang was memorable for both good and bad reasons
- Explore the countryside by bicycle (but maybe practice your balancing skills first)
- Try street food where the locals eat – look for plastic stools and long lines
Approach with caution:
- Motorcycle taxis (xe ôm) – convenient but terrifying for the uninitiated
- Fertilized duck eggs – unless you're truly adventurous
- Drinking games with rice wine – what starts as cultural exchange ends as severe headache
- The "medium spicy" option – it's never actually medium
- Buying too many souvenirs early in your trip – we carried hand-painted lanterns through four cities
Would we go back to Vietnam?
In a heartbeat. Despite the challenges, minor discomforts, and occasional cultural confusions, Vietnam captured our hearts in a way few destinations have. We've already started planning a return trip to explore the areas we missed: Sapa's rice terraces, the Mekong Delta, and Phu Quoc island.
Vietnam offers that perfect travel balance – enough infrastructure for comfort, enough challenges for growth, incredible value for money, and endless opportunities for genuine connections with places and people.
As our plane lifted off from Hanoi, Michael looked out the window at the sprawling city below and said something that perfectly captured our experience: "I feel like we've barely scratched the surface, but somehow I also feel like we're leaving a piece of ourselves behind."
And that, fellow adventurers, is the mark of a truly special destination.
Until next time,
Merel & Michael
