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Five pleasantly slow days. I rode a motorbike. I munched on tea leaves. I walked over a river. I went to a cave. I discovered motorbike meditation. I did nothing.

Ingredients: 4 people, 1 motorbike, 3 bags of rice, a big helping of kindness. Let’s ripen it into a memory in the bright sunshine.

Everyday simplicity. The crushing weight of a prison. An evening with a Vietnamese family. Durian dessert. It was all about the same thing.

The not-so-tactically planned route, a deep cave, and weak engines made our last day exciting. However, the story didn’t end where I left off.

I know what I want. Now they call it a plan. The path has become a little more specific. I like that too. As the lack of a plan.

Dinner for the body and soul. It was easy to realize that every settlement is about the same thing. About the people.

It’s not the cave that matters. I thought the words spoken in the darkness of the cave were the treasure. But they only led me to what really mattered.

The first day in Hue. I have already solved a mystery that has been with me for months. The rest will be told by this city.

Freedom has a price. Sometimes we measure it in money, sometimes in risk. And sometimes we realize that the best decision is not always the most exciting.

Huế was good to me. It gave me so many stories. It was a great stage for the performance of my life. Maybe one day I’ll come back to write a new act together.

A voice from the past? Or just a different present? Thoughts on a bus trip.

A cup of tea. A bowl of soup. A can of beer. Lots of smiles. Sometimes that’s all it takes to make a stranger feel at home.

I don’t have to see everything. I don’t have to check everything. I just have to notice when, behind my own “no,” something says, very quietly: Of course. You do.

I didn’t get a pair for the third round, so I looked the clouds in the eye and thought that here and now there were neither questions nor answers for me.

If everything had gone according to plan today, I wouldn’t have 14 mini dice. Today’s hike was just the way I like it.

Every closed hostel door opens a pub door. I remember reading this in a self-help book.

I always leave with much more than I arrived with. Tuy Hòa didn’t let me go empty-handed either. What if I can’t handle all the things I bring with me anymore?