By February this year, I arrived in Hanoi, booked a homestay, purchased a motorbike, and began living like a local. The capital was bustling. However, I quickly adapted to the traffic flow, the street sounds, and the neighborhood rhythms. Most importantly, I felt truly immersed in daily life.

My ultimate goal was checking off a bucket-list milestone: traversing Vietnam from North to South on two wheels.

I set no rigid start date. When my mind was ready, I hit the road. My name is Ank Bakshi, an Indian filmmaker.

Five Weeks Across the Length of Vietnam

My travel resume spans over 25 countries and a trek to Everest Base Camp. Preparing for long-distance motorcycle travel was familiar territory. I packed light and reserved milestone accommodations in advance.

First, I rode up into the northern highlands of Ha Giang. Nothing compares to winding through deep river valleys, dramatic peaks, and remote hamlets where landscapes shift at every turn. Months earlier, a serious accident had put me in the hospital for four weeks. However, that setback could not stop me from exploring Ha Giang.

Along the loop, I connected with travelers from around the globe. Everyone carried unique itineraries, but we all shared an appetite for discovery.

Next, I pushed on to Cao Bang, attended an ethnic wedding, and witnessed cultural rituals I had never seen before. In Sa Pa, I volunteered at a local school. That experience showed me that a country’s true beauty lives inside the everyday routines of its people.

Exploring the mountain passes of northern Vietnam. Photo: Courtesy of the author

Departing the northern highlands, I rode through Hue and arrived in Da Nang in May.

Da Nang holds special meaning for me. It marked the finish line of my aborted 2021 route, yet it represented the halfway triumph of this completed adventure. When my wheels crossed into the city, I shouted and danced with pure joy.

Da Nang offers pleasant coastal weather, sweeping beaches, mountain backdrops, modern roads, and minimal congestion. I leased an apartment between My Khe Beach and the Son Tra Peninsula for two weeks. Throughout the adventure, I worked remotely to fund my journey.

A typical day in “Vietnam’s most livable city” began with a savory local breakfast, followed by a coastal ride past the Lady Buddha statue and the Dragon Bridge. Fortunately, my visit coincided with the Da Nang International Fireworks Festival, filling the nighttime boulevards with festive energy. I also tried surfing; a minor scrape on my forehead could not dampen the thrill.

Some places you leave behind, yet a part of you stays. Da Nang is one of those places.

My next destination was Hoi An. Traveling with a local guide, I visited rural craft workshops to observe rice wine brewing and artisanal mat weaving, learning that a single handmade mat can take three hours to weave.

Furthermore, I enrolled in my first Vietnamese cooking class. The lesson began in a bustling morning market, where I selected fresh mushrooms, tofu, and greens to prepare vegetarian spring rolls and savory pancakes. Reaching these authentic cultural experiences requires leaving crowded downtown tourist hubs and heading into the countryside.

Visiting the Lady Buddha statue in Da Nang and cruising the coastal roads toward Mui Ne. Photo: Courtesy of the author

Leaving Hoi An behind, a 300-kilometer stretch brought me to Binh Dinh. By then, physical fatigue began setting in. The coastal weather proved unpredictable, flipping from blazing sun to sudden downpours. Nevertheless, I pulled over frequently to admire the turquoise waters and white sandy stretches lining the Central Coast.

Finally, I arrived in Ho Chi Minh City. Compared to my visit in 2019, the southern metropolis had transformed dramatically. At night, towering skyscrapers and glowing digital billboards recalled the urban skyline of New York. Naturally, this rapid expansion also brought heavy traffic.

In the city, I sampled street foods, visited Notre Dame Cathedral, explored Nguyen Van Binh Book Street, and toured the famous vintage cafe apartments on Walking Street. Upon completing the cross-country journey, I chose not to sell my motorcycle. Instead, I shipped it back to Hanoi for my younger brother to maintain, viewing the bike as a loyal traveling companion.

Looking back, the scenery made me realize that Vietnam is more breathtaking than any AI-generated image. Its cities boast modern infrastructure, while its countryside offers unspoiled nature and clean air. Above all, international travelers can easily rent motorbikes, savor street food, and experience rich heritage on a modest budget.

Travel Is About People, Not Just Places

I set out to discover scenic lands, yet the journey revealed a deeper truth along the way. Travel centers on meeting people. Complete strangers who did not share my language welcomed me like family.

In Hue, after I misplaced my helmet, I planned to buy a replacement the following morning. Before I set off, my homestay host handed me a brand-new helmet as a gift and wished me a safe passage.

In Ho Chi Minh City, when my motorcycle tire deflated, neighborhood repairmen inflated it free of charge. During a torrential storm, an elderly stranger walked out and strapped my luggage down securely so my gear would stay dry. I was moved by this pure generosity from people who helped an unfamiliar stranger without asking for anything in return.

Enjoying a homemade hotpot dinner at the homestay in Hanoi. Photo: Courtesy of the author

Reflecting on my earliest days in Hanoi, I found a welcoming home where the homestay owner treated me like a younger brother. We cooked meals together, shared life stories, and played with her children. She even welcomed me into her family’s Lunar New Year celebrations and ancestral traditions. That warmth made leaving Hanoi difficult.

After more than a month on the road, my skin was tanned from sun and roadside dust. Yet Vietnam fundamentally reshaped my outlook. Travel is not simply checking destinations off a map; it is collecting human connections, surprising bonds, and unplanned conversations that endure long after returning home.

I am now studying Vietnamese. Soon, I will return to Vietnam and let its welcoming people write the next chapter of my journey.

(Source: baomoi.com)

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Foreign visitors find themselves captivated not just by the rich regional dishes, but by the astonishing ease with which families welcome an outsider into an intimate gathering.

Across social networks, many travelers openly ponder why Vietnamese hosts open their front doors so effortlessly. With a bright smile, locals pull up an extra plastic stool and treat a newcomer like a long-lost friend.

In many Western nations, bringing a stranger home for dinner demands a clear reason. Family meals remain private domestic sanctuaries. Furthermore, landmark occasions like weddings, ancestor memorial days (đám giỗ), and Lunar New Year gatherings are reserved strictly for kin and close acquaintances. Consequently, receiving an unprompted dinner invitation in Vietnam feels both enchanting and delightfully bewildering to foreign guests.

Firsthand Tales of Spontaneous Hospitality

On forums like Reddit and TripAdvisor, travelers frequently recount these heartwarming encounters. Thomas, a visitor from the United Kingdom, shared his unforgettable evening in the southern hub:

“While traveling in Ho Chi Minh City, I was walking back to my accommodation when a local family waved me inside their home to eat and drink. We had never crossed paths before. Yet they fed me, poured beers and rice liquor, and chatted warmly as if we were lifelong friends.

What amazed me even more was walking past their doorstep the next afternoon. The family recognized me instantly, gave me fresh snacks, and even bought extra takeaway food for my journey. Where I come from, inviting a stranger off the pavement into your dining room is almost unheard of. Their open-hearted spirit touched me deeply.”

Many travelers simply walking by are fortunate enough to receive a warm invitation into a family meal.

Similarly, Daniel, an American professional on an extended assignment, recalled a spontaneous wedding encounter:

“I spent nearly two months working in Vietnam. One evening, while walking back to my apartment, I strolled past a lively wedding reception. A young man called out to me, asking if I was hungry, and immediately escorted me inside to celebrate. They seated me at a banquet table. Soon, older ladies placed portions of every delicacy onto my plate, while the older men toasted me with rice wine. I was speechless because everything unfolded with such natural grace.”

Anna, a traveler from Germany, echoed that sentiment during her journey through central Vietnam:

“What I love about Vietnamese feasts is how seamlessly people draw an outsider into the celebration. I once walked past a family gathering in Quang Nam and had zero time to prepare myself mentally. One minute I was an ordinary passerby; the next minute, I was sitting in the middle of a bustling banquet table. They asked where I came from and how long I had been traveling, then introduced each dish one by one. That hospitality felt remarkably genuine and unscripted.”

Luke Faulkner, a Canadian traveler exploring northern mountain valleys, shared a similar discovery:

“I had the chance to stay with a local family in Ha Giang, where I experienced an extraordinary level of hospitality. We shared evening meals, toasted with corn wine, and talked about daily life during a feast hosted by his wife’s relatives. Suddenly, I no longer felt like a mere tourist; I felt like an old friend returning home. That profound sense of warmth makes me want to visit Vietnam again.”

A Communal Culture Where Food Builds Bridges

Seeking to explain this cultural puzzle, Vietnamese netizens offered insightful commentary in discussion threads. Quang Hieu explained:

“In truth, Vietnamese people often extend an invitation without caring who the guest is. When our household prepares a feast, we call out to neighbors who pass by. If a foreign traveler walks past and smiles, we gladly welcome them in too. Traditional Vietnamese dining is communal by design. Everyone gathers around the same round tray, shares the same platters, and shares laughter without rigid boundaries separating guests from family. It is simply our natural way of showing hospitality.”

Offering a complementary cultural perspective, Nhat Minh noted:

“Foreign visitors feel surprised because they view a feast as a private, exclusive milestone. By contrast, Vietnamese culture views a shared table as a bridge of human connection. You encounter this communal generosity especially during weddings, memorial anniversaries, and Tet holidays. Offering someone a seat and a meal carries no expectation of repayment; it reflects common decency and traditional courtesy. Indeed, many Vietnamese hosts feel deeply uncomfortable watching a person stand outside looking in while the family dines, so they warmly invite them inside.”

(Source: kenh14.vn)

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Workers erected the Saigon Notre-Dame Basilica in 1880, mirroring Notre-Dame Cathedral in Paris. During construction, builders shipped every single material directly from France across the seas. Over more than a century, the cathedral has preserved its defining architectural lines. Meanwhile, Ben Thanh Market retained its undulating roofline, four-faced clock tower, and pointed eaves. Beyond meeting the shopping needs of local residents, the market now welcomes millions of international visitors every year.

Roughly 70 kilometers northwest of downtown Ho Chi Minh City, the Cu Chi Tunnels extend nearly 250 kilometers. In fact, this complex served as a vital base for the Saigon-Gia Dinh Party Committee and Regional Military Command. These underground passages interlace like a massive subterranean spiderweb. Many narrow sections forced fighters to crawl on their bellies, creating an intricate underground labyrinth. Furthermore, hidden hatches concealed the underground quarters on the surface, offering safe spaces for sheltering troops, conducting secret meetings, and caching weapons.

Quiet Highlands and Coastal Havens of 1992

In a series of rare frames shot in 1992, Da Lat appears remarkably peaceful and untouched. Nestled between modern buildings and red-tiled French colonial villas, tall pine groves rose gracefully into the highland mist. Local builders opened the central Da Lat Market in 1929. Consequently, it served as both a bustling trade venue and an essential historical landmark of the mountain town.

When Hans-Peter Grumpe arrived in Nha Trang in 1992, the coastal town hosted virtually no foreign tourists or modern hotels. Golden beaches lay completely empty of vacationers, attracting almost exclusively local residents. Therefore, Grumpe fondly recalled Nha Trang back then as an exceptionally gentle, peaceful seaside enclave.

Similarly, My Khe Beach in Da Nang throughout 1991 and 1992 remained completely free of commercial tourism. It maintained an untamed shoreline where only local children from neighboring fishing villages played in the surf. At daybreak, fishermen bustled across the sands, mending nets and sorting coastal catches. Beachgoers found no sun umbrellas or loungers along the shore, seeing only modest stalls that poured hot green tea. Decades later, however, My Khe earned regular spots on international travel rankings. Most notably, Tripadvisor ranked My Khe sixth among Asia’s top ten beaches in a 2024 global survey.

Untouched Heritage Along the Central Coast

Three decades ago, Hoi An saw almost no tourists, even though official tourism maps first recognized the town in 1985. The ancient quarters held no boutique hotels, fine-dining restaurants, cocktail bars, or souvenir stalls. Instead, rows of timber shophouses kept their original weathered structures, showing no signs of mass restoration or the uniform yellow paint that visitors see today. Furthermore, residents moved along the quiet lanes entirely on bicycles and pedicabs.

In 1991, the Japanese Covered Bridge (Chùa Cầu) had not yet undergone large-scale public renovations, concrete embankments, or modern city planning. Green moss carpeted the historic wooden span, while decades of monsoon rains darkened its overlapping yin-yang roof tiles. Back then, locals simply sat before the bridge to rest and chat during warm afternoons. At night, the bridge slipped into deep silence beneath dim yellow streetlamps.

During his travels, Hans-Peter Grumpe took nearly 100 photographs in Hue, devoting dozens of frames to the Hue Imperial Citadel. Emperor Gia Long broke ground on the citadel in 1804 after selecting Hue as the imperial capital of the Nguyen Dynasty. In 1991, the compound showed visible scars from decades of wartime destruction and harsh weather. Heavy humidity weathered large sections of the masonry, while thick moss clung to the boundary walls. Today, the complex forms the crown jewel of the Complex of Hue Monuments, which UNESCO honors as a World Cultural Heritage site.

Northern Landmarks on the Cusp of Transition

In Grumpe’s memory, Hanoi possessed a distinct character, moving at a slower, quieter pace than Ho Chi Minh City. French colonial buildings lined the city avenues, so every evening stroll became an unforgettable journey into the past. In particular, Trang Tiến Street led straight toward the neoclassical pediments of the iconic Hanoi Opera House.

The German photographer visited Ha Long Bay in 1991 and returned again in 1993. Over those two short years, the coastal landscape changed visibly. In 1991, the bay featured only a single state-run hotel and a handful of government dining rooms. Soon after, private enterprise gained ground, which quickly sparked the rise of private hotels and family-run restaurants. As a result, domestic tourism began its rapid growth across the bay.

In Ninh Binh, Grumpe hired a traditional wooden sampan to explore Tam Coc. While drifting through scenic limestone waterways, he documented dramatic karst towers alongside local farmers tending low-lying paddy fields.

According to his travel journals, Sa Pa three decades ago bore little resemblance to today’s bustling resort hub. When he arrived in 1992, international guidebooks had barely mentioned the remote mountain outpost. Yet within a single year, changes accelerated dramatically. Starting in 1993, authorities allowed independent travelers to visit without special security permits. Consequently, the earliest tour groups arrived, setting off a swift economic transformation across the misty mountain valley.

In July 1993, Grumpe undertook an overland journey from Hanoi to Cao Bang aboard a rugged Soviet UAZ jeep. At the time, Ban Gioc Waterfall had not yet appeared on commercial tourist routes. Therefore, the site featured no ticket booths, guesthouses, or food stalls. Pristine primary forests framed the roaring cascades, dotted with sparse ethnic minority settlements. Because he visited during the peak July monsoon, the torrential river ran heavy with red silt, creating a thunderous rush of water that he described as breathtakingly grand. Today, Ban Gioc Waterfall in Dam Thuy Commune, Cao Bang Province, stands proudly as the largest natural waterfall in Southeast Asia and the fourth-largest border waterfall on Earth.

(Source: zingnews.vn)

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Established in 1993, the WTA is widely celebrated as the “Oscars of the travel industry.” The awards framework operates across three tiers: national, regional, and global. Winners are determined through online voting by travel industry professionals and tourism consumers worldwide.

At the regional level, Vietnam was named “Asia’s Leading Destination” and “Asia’s Leading Heritage Destination.” Hanoi claimed the title of “Asia’s Leading City Destination,” while Ho Chi Minh City was recognized as “Asia’s Leading Business Travel Destination.”

Vietnam’s tourism sector made a strong impression across several other categories, with numerous domestic enterprises, destinations, and services taking home awards.

A Double Victory for Phong Nha – Ke Bang

Phong Nha – Ke Bang National Park clinched two consecutive titles: “Vietnam’s Leading Nature Destination” and “Asia’s Leading National Park” at WTA 2026.

“These two honors are both a privilege and a heightened responsibility toward conservation and safeguarding World Heritage values. Preservation will always remain the cornerstone for Phong Nha – Ke Bang to develop sustainable tourism and reach international travelers,” said Dinh Huy Tri, Deputy Director of Phong Nha – Ke Bang National Park.

Travelers exploring Son Doong Cave, the largest cave on the planet, located within the core zone of Phong Nha – Ke Bang National Park in 2023. 

Phong Nha – Ke Bang National Park spans over 123,300 hectares and is recognized by UNESCO as a World Natural Heritage site. The park is renowned for its million-year-old karst limestone formations, extensive cavern networks, and rich biodiversity.

Scientists have recorded more than 2,700 plant species, roughly 200 bird species, and 154 mammal species within the sanctuary. It also houses iconic subterranean marvels such as Son Doong—celebrated as the world’s largest cave—and Phong Nha Cave, noted for its underground rivers, stalactites, and stalagmites.

Visitors to Phong Nha – Ke Bang can participate in guided caving expeditions, jungle trekking, river swimming, ziplining, or wildlife spotting, offering chances to encounter rare species like the Ha Tinh langur.

Numerous eco-lodges and retreats around the park offer immersive nature getaways that integrate ecological conservation with support for local communities.

Ta Xua Earns Its First International Crown

Ta Xua won the title of “Asia’s Leading Emerging Tourism Destination 2026,” securing the award in its very first WTA nomination.

In July, the WTA revealed its regional nominations for Asia. Ta Xua and Ninh Binh represented Vietnam in the category, competing against Koh Kood (Thailand), Melaka (Malaysia), Morioka (Japan), Sumba Island (Indonesia), and Taipei (Taiwan, China).

Travelers “hunting clouds” at Wind Peak in Ta Xua Commune, Son La, in November 2025. 

Ta Xua sits at an elevation of more than 2,800 meters above sea level in Son La Province, bordering Tram Tau in Lao Cai. Located roughly 240 kilometers from Hanoi, the highland destination offers a cool climate year-round and has gained fame for ocean-of-clouds hunting between October and April.

The terrain features narrow, steep mountain ridges flanked by sheer abysses. Beyond navigating by motorbike or car, adventurous travelers can trek to Ta Xua Peak along varied hiking trails starting from Yen Bai or Son La.

(Source: zingnews.vn)

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Little Raspberry Hill is typically less crowded than Big Raspberry Hill, boasting sweeping panoramic views across cascading terraced fields and gentle streams winding through the valley floor. For a long time, local residents have set up small huts around the ridge to cater to tourists looking for scenic photo opportunities.

Following reports that several tour guides allowed their guests to film and pose in perilous spots, the People’s Committee of Púng Luông Commune launched an immediate inspection of every unauthorized viewing hut across the locality on September 24.

Speaking with Tri thức – Znews, Ms. Hờ Thị Dê, Vice Chairwoman of the Púng Luông Commune People’s Committee, explained that several hillside landholders at Little Raspberry Hill had erected huts overlooking the valley and rice paddies to accommodate sightseers, charging around 10,000 VND per visit. While some structures featured sturdy, chest-high guardrails, others had been built haphazardly, posing serious safety hazards.

(Golden rice season at Little Raspberry Hill, Púng Luông Commune, Lào Cai Province. Illustrative photo: BCR)

The communal People’s Committee held direct working sessions with these operators, demanding the immediate dismantling of any unsafe huts and strictly forbidding them from letting guests climb onto the railings. For solidly built huts, local authorities did not require demolition, but insisted on posting warning signs that explicitly prohibit visitors from standing on the railings.

“Once these images are uploaded and go viral across social networks, other visitors might mimic the behavior without anticipating the life-threatening risks involved,” Ms. Dê noted.

The People’s Committee of Púng Luông Commune will issue an awareness circular to local tourism businesses, service providers, and tour guides across the area, requiring them to stop guests from photographing or filming while standing on railings or in hazardous spots.

Should further videos emerge showing visitors lingering in dangerous positions, local authorities will take punitive measures in accordance with regulations. Next week, the commune plans to convene a dedicated working session with tourism facility owners, service workers, guides, and porters to reinforce safety standards at all photography vantage points.

Little Raspberry Hill is currently entering its harvest season, a prime time when scenic attractions across the Mù Cang Chải region draw heavy crowds, especially over weekends.

Following the September 2 National Day holiday, visitor numbers to Mù Cang Chải climbed steadily, though traffic dipped between September 14 and September 20 due to widespread concerns over heavy rains and landslides. Tourist volumes are anticipated to swell as the paddies reach full golden ripeness, lasting through late October.

The terraced rice fields of Mù Cang Chải are a renowned destination in Vietnam’s Northwest, particularly captivating during the ripe rice harvest from September to October. In 2020, this scenic landscape was officially designated a Special National Monument. Earlier, the British newspaper The Telegraph listed Mù Cang Chải among the 12 most breathtaking terraced rice fields in the world.

(Source: lifestyle.zingnews.vn)

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Tran Ngoc Anh Tuan, the 32-year-old co-owner, conceived the drink out of a personal desire to weave quintessential Hue culinary heritage into contemporary cafe culture.

Reimagining the Soul of an Imperial Kitchen

Hue has long captivated travelers with its famous salt coffee, a quiet staple savored beside mossy citadel walls and slow-moving rivers. When brainstorming their next creation, Tuan and his team wanted something genuinely distinct while preserving the ancient capital’s culinary heartbeat.

Their thoughts turned to fermented dipping pastes, the foundation of every traditional Hue kitchen, and chose fermented krill paste (mam ruoc) for their boldest test.

Traditional Hue krill paste starts with tiny, fresh sea krill mixed with sea salt, then slowly fermented in earthenware jars under the central sun. It forms the savory backbone of imperial heritage dishes like spicy beef noodle soup (bun bo Hue) and baby basket clams with rice (com hen).

Because of its natural salinity, Tuan found that the fermented krill paste paired surprisingly well with roasted coffee notes. Using sour ingredients would curdle the rich cream on top, but salt naturally softened the bean’s sharp edge.

While fermented krill paste remains a beloved scent in local family kitchens, no one had ever thought to pour it into a coffee cup. Many locals dismissed the concept as absurd. Undeterred, the team spent six months refining the recipe.

The Architecture of a Four-Layered Brew

The kitchen cooks measured doses of the fermented krill paste with caramel syrup and fresh whipping cream. This simmering technique tames the sharp aroma, releasing a soft, buttery fragrance instead.

Photo: TOC Gallery

Because of its natural salinity, Tuan found that the fermented krill paste paired surprisingly well with roasted coffee notes. Using sour ingredients would curdle the rich cream on top, but salt naturally softened the bean’s sharp edge.

While fermented krill paste remains a beloved scent in local family kitchens, no one had ever thought to pour it into a coffee cup. Many locals dismissed the concept as absurd. Undeterred, the team spent six months refining the recipe.

The Architecture of a Four-Layered Brew

The kitchen cooks measured doses of the fermented krill paste with caramel syrup and fresh whipping cream. This simmering technique tames the sharp aroma, releasing a soft, buttery fragrance instead.

Each glass features four deliberate layers. The base blends chilled fresh milk with sweet condensed milk. The middle delivers rich espresso brewed from A Luoi Arabica beans—grown in Hue’s misty highlands—blended with bold Vietnamese Robusta. The crown features krill-paste-infused cold cream, finished with delicate shavings of dried bonito tuna flakes.

To experience the layers properly, Tuan advises patrons to skip the straw. Drinkers should gently stir the bottom milk and espresso while leaving the savory cream cap intact. Sipping directly from the glass lets the velvety cream hit the palate first, followed by dark roasted coffee and a rich, savory finish.

Overcoming Hesitation at the First Sip

The drink’s unusual name stirs intense curiosity alongside immediate hesitation among first-time visitors.

Photo: TOC Gallery

Quoc Bao, a 28-year-old traveler from Ho Chi Minh City, tried the specialty on September 17. He was pleasantly surprised that the krill aroma was far gentler than expected, allowing the coffee flavor to shine while delivering a clean, savory finish. Bao noted it is a rewarding sip for anyone visiting the former imperial capital.

Bich Ngoc, a 35-year-old tourist from Nghe An, sought out the shop after spotting viral clips online. While initially skeptical about combining fermented krill paste with morning espresso, she found the balance fascinating and delicious.

  (Source: vnexpress.vn)

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During his culinary journey across Vietnam, American food vlogger Sonny Side—creator of the hit YouTube channel Best Ever Food Review Show, boasting over 11 million subscribers—set out to explore the vast spectrum of the country’s national dish: comparing a humble $2 (around 50,000 VND) bowl of street-side pho with an ultra-luxurious $100 (around 2.3 million VND) gourmet rendition.

Sonny kicked off his quest in Hanoi, the revered birthplace of traditional pho. Stopping at a storied, 70-year-old family-run stall on Bat Dan Street, he was treated to an authentic Northern-style bowl featuring a crystal-clear broth, a rich beef essence, and fragrant hints of charred ginger and scallions.

(Sonny digging into his first bowl at Pho Bat Dan. Screenshot from video)

Every single bowl reflected meticulous craftsmanship—from the tender, hand-sliced flat rice noodles to the succulent cuts of rare and well-done beef.

Sonny described the Northern flavor profile as delivering “the pure essence of beef radiating through every single spoonful of broth.”

(Sonny praising Northern pho for its rich, unadulterated beef profile. Screenshot from video)

Leaving Hanoi behind, Sonny flew south to Ho Chi Minh City to explore Southern pho—a version famous for its broader variety of cuts, bolder seasonings, and bountiful herbs.

Tucked away in a narrow alley off Ho Hao Hon Street in Cau Kho Ward (District 1, Ho Chi Minh City), he dropped into a cozy local joint to enjoy a bowl brimming with flank, tendon, rare beef slices, and a rich, golden layer of scallion fat (nuoc beo). Southern pho stands out with its heaped basket of fresh herbs, lime, chili sauces, and a gently sweet, aromatic broth.

(Sonny savoring Southern-style pho at an alleyway stall. Screenshot from video)

The ultimate climax of Sonny’s journey, however, was his encounter with the famous $100 luxury pho at Ănăn Saigon, helmed by award-winning chef Peter Franklin. The creation marries modernist culinary techniques with deep reverence for Vietnamese heritage.

(The $100 luxury pho crafted from premium ingredients by Chef Peter Franklin. Screenshot from video)

This decadent bowl is prepared with an astonishing array of seven different cuts of beef—ranging from prime Angus tenderloin, beef tongue, and gelatinous tendon, to hearty shank, flank, short rib, and artisanal beef meatballs.

The broth simmers gently for 12 hours before undergoing careful clarification to achieve flawless clarity and concentrated flavor. To elevate the experience even further, the dish is finished with a generous shaving of premium black truffle.

(Fresh black truffle shaved over the gourmet bowl of pho. Screenshot from video)

(Sonny stunned by the flavors of the $100 bowl. Screenshot from video)

Reflecting on the tasting, Sonny noted: “The broth is incredibly rich and silky, and pairing it with these top-tier ingredients makes it a truly worthwhile experience.”

From a humble $2 sidewalk classic to an opulent $100 fine-dining masterpiece, each stop offered Sonny a fresh perspective on Vietnam’s signature comfort food. Whether North or South, street-cart or Michelin-starred, pho remains the true heartbeat of Vietnamese gastronomy: balanced, nuanced, and endlessly inventive.

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“Imagine traveling just for a cat,” Jonathan captioned a video chronicling his journey on Instagram.

What began as an eccentric travel whim quickly captured the digital world. The clip soared to nearly 600,000 views, over 100,000 likes, and a cascade of comments. In the replies, globetrotters from around the world chimed in, sharing snapshots from their own pilgrimages to meet the famous ginger resident at a tucked-away coastal cafe.

(Photo: @jonng_ishere/Instagram)

Flying from Singapore to Da Nang Just to Meet a Cat

While mapping out things to do in Da Nang, Jonathan stumbled across a string of Instagram reels spotlighting a round orange cat living at a local neighborhood cafe.

It was not just the cat’s looks that caught his eye, but its sheer, majestic apathy toward the human race. In clip after clip, the feline lay stretched out, lost in deep slumber or gazing blankly into space while patrons gathered around in awe. The presence of human admirers seemed utterly beneath its concern.

Da Nang had already been on the bucket list for Jonathan and his wife. But once he discovered the four-legged local, meeting the cat jumped straight to the very top of his must-do list.

(A Singaporean tourist flew to Da Nang just to meet an aloof ginger cat. Photo: @jonng_ishere/Instagram)

In May, Jonathan touched down in Da Nang, buzzing with anticipation. Yet the face-to-face encounter did not play out quite like a warm reunion.

The cat was perched fast asleep atop a refrigerator, wearing an expression of pure nonchalance—completely unaware, and thoroughly uninterested, that a traveler had crossed international waters just to say hello.

Jonathan confessed he was tempted to scoop up the sleeping furball for a tight hug. Out of courtesy to the owners, however, he let the cat sleep, settling for a gentle stroke along its soft fur.

(Photo: @jonng_ishere/Instagram)

The encounter was brief and delightfully one-sided, yet gave Jonathan enough footage to capture the moment and share it online. He never expected the quirky clip to blow up into an internet sensation.

Social media algorithms are notoriously fickle, Jonathan noted. While cute animal reels frequently go viral, none of his previous pet clips had ever generated such a massive wave of adoration.

Clearly, this particular ginger cat possessed an irresistible charm all its own.

The Four-Legged Celebrity of a Da Nang Coffee Shop

The feline celebrity Jonathan traveled so far to meet answers to the name Mập (“Chubby”), living at Dom Cafe at 22 Le Quy Don Street.

Beyond winning the hearts of local regulars, Mập has emerged as a familiar icon across international cat-enthusiast circles. On Instagram, the cafe’s official page boasts over 102,000 followers, with comment sections dominated by foreign animal lovers.

(Mập, the famous ginger cat living at Dom Cafe, 22 Le Quy Don Street)

Videos starring Mập pull in tens to hundreds of thousands of likes. Many foreign commenters openly declare that whenever they visit Vietnam, a stop in Da Nang to meet Mập is non-negotiable.

Mập’s magnetic pull lies in an attitude that rejects celebrity status. With a round, chunky build, wide eyes, and an expression of blissful oblivion, Mập fears no one. Guests can stroke its back or scratch behind its ears without fear of receiving a hiss or a scratch.

Check-in photos with Mập have proliferated across social feeds: cradled in the arms of an adoring tourist, or sunbathing in the courtyard while unapologetically claiming a customer’s seat. No one ever complains; patrons gladly surrender their chairs to the shop’s true “little boss.”

On festive occasions, the cafe dresses Mập in whimsical accessories—from miniature flower hats to crocheted beanies—fueling its viral allure.

(Mập is cherished by both domestic patrons and international globetrotters)

Beside Mập, Dom Cafe is also home to another cat named Sua (“Milk”) and several friendly resident dogs. Yet Mập remains the undisputed headliner drawing overseas wanderers through the doors.

Beyond the Cat: The Charm of Dom Cafe

While Mập draws people in, the cafe’s easygoing ambiance and quality brews keep them lingering.

Jonathan noted that he was equally taken with the cafe’s tranquil vibe and drinks, remarking that he would eagerly recommend the spot to fellow travelers.

The menu covers Vietnamese cafe staples alongside modern brews: traditional black and condensed-milk coffee, Americanos, bac xiu (sweet white coffee), lattes, espresso, cold brews, fruit sodas, and fresh juices, generally priced between 35,000 and 55,000 VND ($1.40–$2.20).

The floor plan is cozy and split between a warm indoor seating area glowing under amber lights and a leaf-draped outdoor courtyard bathed in natural light.

(The cozy interior of Dom Cafe)

Traces of the four-legged inhabitants are woven into the decor. Guests playfully observe that the indoor sofa serves as a claw-scratched guestbook. For animal lovers, these weathered marks merely add to the cafe’s homely appeal.

On Google Reviews, patrons leave glowing praise for the drinks, the relaxing vibe, and the furry staff.

One visitor highlighted the quaint address on Le Quy Don, complimenting the open patio, balanced coffee, and Mập’s remarkably cuddly nature. Another regular pointed out the friendly hospitality of the owners alongside the adorable cats and dogs.

(The friendly four-legged “staff” at the cafe)

Other travelers fondly recall the cafe’s vintage playlist, retro aesthetic, and breezy porch seating, though a few practical reviewers note that parking for larger vehicles and cars along the street can be tricky.

Heading to Meet Mập? Prepare to Be Snubbed

Viral fame has turned Dom Cafe into a quirky pilgrimage spot on many Vietnam itineraries. Still, Jonathan offers a tongue-in-cheek disclaimer for anyone hoping to meet Mập: do not expect an enthusiastic welcome.

Much like Jonathan’s encounter, Mập might be napping, basking in the sun, or ignoring your existence altogether. Visitors heading over should be fully prepared for the royal cold shoulder.

(Visitors hoping to meet the ginger celebrity should be prepared for complete indifference)

For Jonathan, the encounter was far from a Disney-style greeting, yet it became one of his most cherished memories from Da Nang. Along with two friendly resident dogs, the afternoon offered an unhurried, joyful pause.

Sometimes travel is not about ticking off UNESCO monuments or exhausting bucket lists. For some wanderers, an indifferent ginger cat asleep on a refrigerator, completely oblivious to the bustling world, is reason enough to pack a bag and cross an ocean.

(Photo credit: Dom Cafe)

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A Homestyle Kitchen in Cam Chau

Mama’s Authentic Vietnamese Kitchen sits on Cua Dai Street, a major thoroughfare linking the lantern-lit Old Town to the sea, lined with spots catering to both neighborhood residents and globe-trotters. In stark contrast to tourist-oriented establishments, this space feels like a family kitchen where every dish is prepared directly by the woman at the counter.

The stall operates almost around the clock—from 7:30 in the morning until 4:00 the following dawn—offering late-night comfort to travelers heading back from evening strolls through the ancient streets. Its unhurried pace and unpretentious setting create an immediate sense of ease rare to find in such a bustling tourist hub.

One detail caught Jozzie completely off guard: every patron who stepped inside, even first-time foreign visitors, addressed the woman running the kitchen simply as “Mama.” To an outsider, the practice seemed startling at first, yet it explained the comforting intimacy that lingered throughout his meal—living up to the moniker “Mama’s” chosen to welcome international guests.

Cao Lau and Banh Mi: Twin Pillars of Hoi An Cuisine

Of the two dishes Jozzie ordered, cao lau represents Hoi An’s culinary identity—a specialty nearly impossible to replicate elsewhere. Authentic cao lau noodles are crafted from rice soaked in ash lye gathered from Cham Island firewood, then mixed with mineral-rich water drawn exclusively from the ancient Ba Le Well, believed to date back to the Champa era. This centuries-old technique gives the noodles a chewy bite, a muted yellow tint, and a profile distinct from regular pho or rice noodles.

A traditional bowl features thinly sliced xa xiu (char siu pork), crisp golden pork cracklings, aromatic herbs from Tra Que village, and a small ladle of concentrated braising gravy rather than a full broth, requiring diners to toss all elements together before eating. This dry-tossed style often catches foreign guests by surprise, defying the Western assumption that Asian noodles are always served swimming in soup.

Hoi An’s banh mi, on the other hand, tells a different culinary tale—the marriage of French baguette baking and Vietnamese seasoning. The local crust is famously thin, airy, and crackling crisp, packed with rich pâté, cold cuts, savory pork roast, fresh herbs, pickled vegetables, and each vendor’s signature secret gravy.

The balance between the shattering crunch of the loaf, the savoriness of the meat fillings, and the acidity of pickled carrots and daikon is what elevates a great banh mi, explaining why global food critics continue to celebrate it. While Jozzie’s declaration that this was the best banh mi he had ever tasted was personal, it spoke volumes about the consistency this small kitchen maintains amid Hoi An’s crowded sandwich scene.

Jozzie’s experience reflects a growing shift among international travelers in Vietnam: bypassing overhyped tourist traps in favor of authentic, word-of-mouth discoveries. For an understated stall like Mama’s, gaining sudden viral attention proves that traditional homestyle cooking endures not through flashiness, but through genuine care in every bowl and crusty loaf.

Eatery Information

• Name: Mama’s Authentic Vietnamese Kitchen

• Address: 399 Cua Dai, Cam Chau, Hoi An, Quang Nam

• Opening Hours: 7:30 a.m. to 4:00 a.m. the following morning

Delivery Inquiries: 0707 517 144 (English) | 0869 535 905 (Vietnamese)

(Source: kenh14.vn)

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To the Vietnamese, questions such as “Ăn cơm chưa?” (Have you eaten yet?), “Đi đâu đấy?” (Where are you heading?), or “Mới về à?” (Just getting back?) rarely demand a literal answer. They serve primarily as warm greetings, conversation starters, and an unspoken signal: “I see you, and I care.”

This cultural greeting recently delighted an expatriate from the Netherlands. On social media, Danny Haberer recounted his early days in Vietnam and his perplexity at being persistently asked, “Ăn cơm chưa?”

Danny Haberer, an expat from the Netherlands, expressed amusement at the traditional Vietnamese greeting “Have you eaten yet?”

“When I first moved to Vietnam, neighbors asked me every single day: ‘Have you eaten yet?’ I thought they meant it literally, so I answered politely: ‘No, not yet, I’ll eat in a bit.’ The next day, they asked again. And again the day after that. I started getting worried—good heavens, do I look that gaunt?

Only later did I realize: ‘Have you eaten yet?’ isn’t an interrogation; it’s a greeting. Just like ‘Where are you off to?’ or ‘Just got home?’ In a land where grains of rice have sustained generations, asking if someone has eaten is simply a way of saying, ‘I care about you.’ I hear that when parents call their children who live far away, the very first words out of their mouths are always, ‘Have you eaten yet, child?’

Back in the Netherlands, we greet each other with: ‘Hoe gaat het?’—meaning ‘How are you?’ The Dutch inquire about your health. The Vietnamese inquire about… your belly. Come to think of it, you can only be healthy on a full stomach!

Nowadays, whenever the neighbors ask, I give them the snappy Western Delta answer: ‘Rồi!’ (‘Done!’). How about you folks—have you eaten yet today? The Mekong Delta taught me, and I listened.”

Danny Haberer’s reflection on social media.

Danny’s anecdote quickly struck a chord with Vietnamese readers. Many pointed out that “Ăn cơm chưa?” is indeed an affectionate greeting deeply woven into daily life, especially across regional communities around meal hours.

One commenter noted that “Ăn cơm chưa?” typically serves as a greeting leading up to or following lunch and dinner—roughly between 11:00 a.m.–1:00 p.m. and 6:00 p.m.–8:00 p.m. Outside those windows, people naturally pivot to situational pleasantries: “Where are you heading?”, “What are you working on?”, “Taking a break?”, “Heading out?”, “Picking up the kids?”, or “Off to school?”

For many, the inquiry represents an instinctive reflex intertwined with familial bonds. One reader shared: “I married someone far from home. Whenever my mother calls me late around 9:00 p.m., her very first question is still: ‘Have you eaten yet, my child?’”

Another echoed the sentiment, sharing that her mother poses the same question out of lifelong habit, whether phoning in the middle of the afternoon or late at night, long after conventional meal times have passed.

Others observed that the greeting is especially ubiquitous in the Mekong Delta (the Western region), where plainspoken daily inquiries cultivate immediate warmth, hospitality, and neighborly closeness.

That genuine simplicity was precisely what enabled Danny, after years in the country, not only to grasp the cultural nuance but also to embrace the authentic Southern cadence with a brisk: “Rồi!” (Done!). 

A Dutchman Enchanted by Everyday Vietnamese Life

Danny Haberer currently resides in Go Cong, Tien Giang Province. During his stay in Vietnam, he has pursued diverse pursuits—gardening, photography, and vlogging—frequently chronicling his local discoveries and day-to-day encounters on his personal page. Rather than grand narratives, Danny focuses on humble routines: navigating a motorbike, cultivating vegetables, raising fish, gardening, touring rural towns, and sampling authentic Vietnamese fare. His perspective—that of a foreigner genuinely living among locals rather than passing through as an observer—has garnered a loyal Vietnamese following.

His storytelling stands out for its natural wit, seamlessly blending historical background, cultural context, and regional geography. Details taken for granted by locals take on fresh life and intrigue when viewed through his lens.

For instance, when introducing Ben Thanh Market, Danny did not merely profile a famous landmark; he transported viewers back to its historical foundations.

He previously charmed viewers with his lively account of Ben Thanh Market’s origin.

“Do you know what Ben Thanh Market was built on? A muddy swamp! Back then, the site was the Bo Ret pond, known to the French as Marais Boresse—a pool of stagnant water. They filled the swamp before breaking ground, and the market officially opened in 1914.

The inaugural celebration was extraordinary: three straight days of festivities, fireworks, festive floats, and over 100,000 attendees. During the opening ceremony, a Vietnamese woman named Vo Thi Vuong fought a real tiger from dawn until high noon—and won. Vietnamese women have been formidable since way back then! Gentlemen, think twice or thrice before arguing with your wives… who knows if she might be a descendant of Madame Vuong! Meanwhile, there I was in the middle of the market, trembling just trying to bargain in Vietnamese.”

Danny Haberer frequently shares engaging trivia about Vietnamese landmarks and culinary traditions.

When reflecting on President Ho Chi Minh, Danny opened with genuine curiosity before presenting a figure that caught him off guard:

“Do you know how many names President Ho Chi Minh had? Let me guess: 5? 10? Wrong. According to records at the Ho Chi Minh Museum, he used 175 names, aliases, and pen names. One hundred and seventy-five! That averages out to roughly three new names for every year of his revolutionary life. Each name had its own purpose, serving the singular path of national salvation.

Consider this: penning French-language journalism under one pseudonym, sending correspondence under another, organizing across one country under one name, then crossing borders under an entirely different identity. Yet across decades, there remained a solitary, unyielding objective: national independence. 175 names, one devoted heart.

The affectionate moniker ‘Bac’ (‘Uncle’), used by the entire nation, emerged in 1941, while the name Ho Chi Minh was adopted in 1942. Reading that left me speechless. Here I am struggling to remember a single Facebook password!”

Photo: Danny Haberer

Beyond history and culture, Danny recounts everyday moments with self-deprecating humor. After spending two years proclaiming his devotion to Vietnamese cuisine, he playfully admitted to “betraying” his palate when faced with a breakfast buffet, reflexively grabbing Dutch comfort foods:

“For two years, I told everyone I had crossed over to Team Vietnam—I couldn’t start the morning without a steaming bowl of noodles. Yet this morning at the buffet, my hand moved on autopilot, grabbing sliced bread and cheese. Exactly like a traditional Dutch breakfast! I cheated, folks!

Perhaps being away from home so long woke up the Dutch stomach inside me. In Go Cong, I eat Vietnamese food year-round without issue, but the second I see cheese at a hotel, all my promises evaporate. Forgive me this once! The moment I get back home, I’ll down a bowl of hu tieu noodle soup to make amends!”

Danny Haberer learns to embrace everyday Vietnamese cuisine.

From deciphering “Ăn cơm chưa?” to recounting the origins of Ben Thanh Market, President Ho Chi Minh’s aliases, or a spontaneous buffet indulgence of bread and cheese, Danny’s reflections offer an affectionate lens on Vietnam. He explores the country not merely through landmark monuments, but through daily rituals, culinary bonds, and how people treat one another in ordinary life.

This grounded warmth explains why his stories resonate so deeply: when a foreign resident learns that beneath “Have you eaten yet?” lies far more than a question about sustenance—it is, in truth, an enduringly Vietnamese way to say, “You matter to me.”

(Source: kenh14.vn)

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