Reflecting on the past few hours.

And on the past four months.

I love Vietnam. Now, I’m thinking about why.

This is the one I know best

I think my answer is just that simple.

It’s true that it captivated me right from the start. After the bustle of Hanoi came Cat Ba, Ninh Binh, and then Sapa. And from there, more than a dozen other towns and cities. The North, the central region, and then the South. I’ve explored this country thoroughly, given the opportunities I had.

But I don’t really have much to compare it with.

I lived on an island in Thailand for three months. Admittedly, I got to know Koh Samui very well. But that’s just a tiny dot on the map of the country. I also lived in a Buddhist temple, in Chiang Mai, and—of course—in Pai. Yet, even taken together, these places represent only a small fraction of vast Thailand.

As for Indonesia, I saw parts of Bali and the tiny Gili Islands.

I traveled across Laos from end to end, but I didn’t cover as much ground there as I did here.

So, Vietnam is the country I can say with certainty—based on my own experience—is beautiful. I saw a lot of it. It revealed so much of itself to me. Out of all the places I visited, there were only two where I eventually felt I’d had enough. There is a strong correlation between the number of tourists and that feeling of “having had enough.”

Every country taught me something. A lot, actually. But I feel it was Vietnam that truly taught me what the digital nomad lifestyle is really like.

Lots of travel, lots of work. Shared accommodation. Simple local eateries. And the ability to move on when the time is right.

My heart is full of gratitude. I am living an extraordinary life right now. No matter how my life unfolds from here, the past year—and Vietnam’s role in it—has been life-changing for me. I might be wrong. But I only wrote this here out of habit.

Goodbye, Vietnam!

Saigon. For the last time.

For me, this will surely be a city of walks. I walked for 18 days here. 190 km. An average of 10.5 km a day. I’m satisfied.

I spent countless hours at Highlands Café. I think I’ve earned the “regular” badge. For a while now, the guys there have been able to predict exactly what I’m going to order. That’s just how I like it.

Today—my final day—I gave myself a day off. How ironic! A “free” digital nomad taking a day off.

I planned to visit five locations today. Whatever I miss, I miss. I decided that months ago regarding every future destination.

By showcasing these five spots, I’m letting go of this city. Tomorrow, I’ll be sleeping in Cambodia.

War Remnants Museum

I was already thinking about what I wanted to write about this experience while still at the museum.

I don’t want to—and can’t—write much about it.

In the courtyard, I encountered tanks, airplanes, a helicopter, and heavy weaponry. It was fascinating. But thoughts began to creep in: how many people had been killed by the very things I was looking at and touching?

Then came the section showcasing the prison system, also located in the courtyard. Here, I was deeply disheartened by the ingenuity applied to the destruction of human beings. I usually smile. I don’t think I did then.

Inside the building, there are vast, thematic halls.

War crimes, the effects of Agent Orange—to name just two. The mere names sent shivers down my spine.

I felt a constant knot in my throat and stomach. I often had to fight back tears.

It was in that second room I mentioned that I decided I didn’t want to write about this. Just a single word.

Horrible.

The last room offered some solace. For although the exhibition was dedicated to the memory of the many photographers—both Vietnamese and foreign—who perished in the fighting, it felt more human than the war itself.

I saw a great many magnificent photos. Not cheerful ones; most captured moments of deep sorrow. Yet, to me, they all seemed like masterpieces. Despite the pain they immortalized, they held—for me—so many genuine, natural moments. Those moments, those human gazes, helped prepare me to step back out onto the street.

Now I am sitting here in front of the café. My avocado smoothie is slowly running out. I am still not smiling. But that is all right for now.

I am heading to the Independence Palace. And I am waiting for that something that will bring a smile back to my day.

Independence Palace

I had arrived at a significant historical site.

The entire building felt so familiar. I had the constant sensation that I had seen it before—and I suspect that was no coincidence; the palace had likely appeared in many films.

I explored the place from top to bottom—from cellar to attic, as the saying goes. It was fascinating to see the styles and technology of sixty or seventy years ago within the labyrinthine cellar. I tried to picture the now-empty rooms as they once were, filled with radio operators, political officers, and security guards. I wondered how they would have reacted had I simply wandered in back then. I sought out every locked door and followed every staircase leading downwards to its very end. I thoroughly enjoyed looking around.

Then, I toured the upper floors. I admired the grand conference rooms and the furnishings, carpets, and artwork that exuded luxury. It seemed designed to impress the outside world and the high-ranking guests who visited—for the bedrooms themselves were quite ordinary. It was interesting to witness this contrast and to imagine what it must have been like to retreat from all that day-long splendor into a plain, everyday bedroom. I certainly would have enjoyed it.

I really liked the cinema, the restaurants, and the ballroom. I occasionally got lost on the upper floors, too, given the sheer number of corridors and turns, but I always managed to find the staircase in the end.

Finally, I reached the roof, where an American-made Huey helicopter stood. Here, I didn’t just see the traces of history; I felt like I was becoming a part of it, too.

On Saturday night, I happened to be walking in this area. Suddenly, I found myself at 22 Gia Long Street—or at least, that was its name on April 29, 1975. Today, it is known as 22 Lý Tự Trọng. Back then, American government employees lived here, and it was from this location that they were evacuated by helicopter. It is a very famous event in Vietnamese history; chances are, you’ve seen a photograph from that day.

And now—today, Tuesday—I am here at the palace where, the very next day (April 30, 1975), Saigon fell.

Helicopters played a role at both locations—associated with the memory of the Americans (and many Vietnamese who had collaborated with them) being evacuated.

It occurred to me that on Wednesday, I, too, will be “evacuating myself” from Vietnam. Though my story is far less dramatic: I am not fleeing, and I don’t have a helicopter.

Notre-Dame Cathedral Basilica of Saigon

This building is the odd one out among my excursions.

For one thing, I had already been here on the aforementioned Saturday night, so the sight wasn’t new to me.

For another, the building’s two main towers are completely encased in scaffolding for renovations, so from the front, all you can see is plastic sheeting.

Thirdly, I didn’t go inside then—at night—and I didn’t go in today either. It is open for two two-hour slots a day. I missed the window today; I spent far more time at the first two stops than I had anticipated. Then, by the time I arrived here, I was forced to take a break at the Highlands because my phone had died and I didn’t have a charger with me.

I had to decide whether to wait for Mass and perhaps see the cathedral’s interior then, or move on. I decided to move on. I don’t consider it “ethical” to use attending Mass as a cover for my curiosity. Besides, there was another pagoda on my list that I really wanted to reach before dark.

In this way, the cathedral ended up being just like its big sister in Paris for me. I’ve been to Paris twice, yet I’ve never seen the inside of that cathedral either.

I suppose this has all come together to form a story that has come full circle.

Saigon Central Post Office

Famous, iconic.

At least, that’s what I read about this building.

It is certainly an impressive building, both inside and out. It is stunningly spacious, beautifully decorated, and—in many respects—evokes classic French architecture. I wrote that sentence knowing nothing about architectural styles, so I apologize in advance if it wasn’t quite accurate.

What I meant to say was that being in and around the building gave me the feeling of being in Paris.

However, it currently functions largely as a giant bazaar. You can access postal services in the main hall, but even there, countless vendors are selling goods—perfumes, jewelry—and not the cheap kind, either. The building’s two side wings are literally like a bazaar, filled with thousands of different types of souvenirs.

None of that really appealed to me; I think I spent maybe 15 seconds in the side wing before turning back. Especially since photography was prohibited. What business did I have there?

Jade Emperor Pagoda

This is a very old pagoda tucked among lofty skyscrapers in the bustling commercial city center. It will surely be one of the most suggested travel destinations when you have a chance to visit the city.

That’s what I had read about this pagoda beforehand.

By the time I arrived, I was feeling a bit tired.

From the outside, the building looked so familiar that my first thought was, “I’ve seen this before.” There was a sign stating that proper attire was required for entry. I almost decided not to go in—I’d have to take off my shoes, and I was tired and feeling a bit lazy.

But I’d played this scenario out a few times before. And once again, that voice inside me spoke up, saying, “Oh, come on!”

I hadn’t forgotten to pack my sari in my backpack that morning; it would have been a waste not to use it. So, I kicked off my shoes, threw on the sari, took off my hat, and went into the pagoda.

It would have been a shame to miss it. It was unique—truly. I saw statues there of a beauty I hadn’t had the chance to see anywhere else. This was one instance where I actually “regretted” choosing to be respectful, as photography was prohibited. I would have loved to take a few pictures, but the little sign clearly said no.

So, I’ll carry the image of the pagoda in my memories instead.

Just as I will with Vietnam.

I love this country.

Even so, I’m evacuating myself in an hour.

The post 350. | Goodbye Saigon! Goodbye Vietnam! first appeared on Digital Nomad Blog.

Time and again, you read that “this isn’t for everyone.”

Here is the first instance where that applies to me: Saigon isn’t for me.

It’s too much! Goodbye!

Saigon is an anthill. And it’s hard to find peace—or maintain my peace—in an anthill.

I feel like the city has been testing my patience and inner calm ever since I arrived. It’s a tough challenge.

I see two paths.

One is to reach a state where even a city like this can’t get under my skin. That journey is still ahead of me, and I feel like I’m moving in that direction, though I haven’t quite arrived yet. For now, that’s a satisfying answer. The journey is exciting, though a little guidance on the best direction to take never hurts.

The other solution is to go somewhere that isn’t *this*. I’m leaving Saigon—and Vietnam—on Wednesday. I hope Phnom Penh, the capital of Cambodia, shows me a different side of big-city life.

A few days ago, mom asked if I was looking forward to leaving this place. At the time, I said it wasn’t really an option—or rather, that kind of anticipation wasn’t my focus. I was just adapting to the situation. Two days later, I realized: I *am* looking forward to leaving. That’s the second solution I mentioned earlier. LOL.

But I’m not looking forward to Phnom Penh just because it might be different. I met a friend on Koh Samui who lives in Cambodia now. We had talked about meeting up again once I was there. He’s currently living in Kampot, about 150 km from the capital. I told him a few days ago that I was arriving on Wednesday, and he immediately said he’d be waiting for me. He can’t wait for us to meet again. I feel the same way about it.

So, at this time in four days, I’ll be sitting on a bus—likely already inside Cambodia. I might write a summary of Vietnam. I’m not sure if it’s necessary, though; including this post, I’ve covered Vietnam in some way across 46 posts so far.

If I don’t write anything else: Goodbye, Vietnam!

Tension

I am currently reading a fascinating book about how the human brain works and how we influence one another. It is an excellent primer for the work I am about to start as an influencer.

Just yesterday, I came across a thought in it that was incredibly useful to me: the fact that I am kind shouldn’t stop me from defending myself. I also read—again, just yesterday—a crucial follow-up to that idea regarding my own behavior: if someone doesn’t understand a polite “no,” they need to be given a less polite one.

This serves as a vital form of self-validation for me. I really am kind when I turn things down a hundred times a day. But anyone who tries to push past that boundary needs to hit a harder wall. My kindness is something I extend to myself, and the other party can share in it if they choose. But if they cross the line, that kindness transforms into defense. And I cannot always defend myself politely.

I am forced to protect myself.

Navigating the sidewalks here is impossible for a number of reasons.

The sidewalk serves a different function here than anything I’ve known my whole life. Sales stalls are set up right next to the buildings—almost everywhere. Chairs and tables sit beside them. If there happens to be a narrow strip left for walking, it is almost certain that one or a dozen motorbikes will be parked there. And if there is still a bit of space left after that, a taxi driver will pull into the remaining spot to rest, lying right across the hood of the car.

On top of all this, the weather has been a bit rainy lately. I’ve written before about how beautiful the marble sidewalk is. But when it’s wet, you can’t really walk on it properly; it’s so slippery that I feel like I’m constantly about to face-plant.

If you can picture me waddling along this obstacle course—dodging everything and often walking in the street amidst oncoming traffic—let’s add a little more color to the scene. Say, someone coming straight at me on a motorbike *on the sidewalk*. And that’s still just the easy version. Because they come from behind, too.

What really cranks up the tension is when they actually honk at me. Get the picture? You’re walking on the sidewalk, and some moron gets annoyed because he can’t get past you.

Another favorite scenario of mine is when it’s obvious I’m right there next to them, yet they start moving their motorbike right in front of me. Or come straight at me.

Well, lately I’ve started using a new technique in these situations: I don’t step out of their way. I stop right in front of them. I spread my arms wide and ask with a smile (in Hungarian), “So, what the fuck is going on here?” Almost every time, they start smiling, apologizing, and looking at me like a deer in the headlights. Naturally, I step aside afterwards, but I’ve decided I’m not going to let this kind of idiocy slide without saying something.

The other day, I was navigating around what looked like the aftermath of a nuclear strike—right there on the street. Same old scene: three vendors, thirty motorbikes, and forty people milling about on the sidewalk. I stepped down into the road to get around them. Just then, a car appeared from the opposite direction, intending to park at the side of the road. I’m well aware that I’m invisible, but it still stung a bit that the driver maneuvered into the parking spot in such a way that, had I not stepped aside, I would have been hit. So, I passed him on the left and gave his folding side mirror a good whack into the parked position. I didn’t hold back the force of the blow.

To myself, I said: “I’ve got some pent-up tension from this city. Get out! Then we can talk it over!” Of course, he didn’t get out. Perhaps that’s for the best. I’m trying to avoid getting into a fight over the next few days—I swear. Still, if he *had* stepped out, I think we could have grounded that little bit of tension. It wouldn’t have been for lack of trying on my part.

Scams

Yesterday was an eventful day for two reasons.

I sat down at a small restaurant. The meal I chose cost 59,000.

I was so pleased when, along with the soup, I was served some cold cuts wrapped in bamboo and a small piece of local bread. I’ve written quite a few times about this kind of endearing hospitality.

When I went to pay, the young woman stated the amount: 75,000. I walked over to the large advertising board and pointed to the dish, telling her it was 59,000. Of course, she didn’t speak English, so I waited for her to type out what she wanted to say. Finally, a message appeared on her phone: “You have to pay for the wet wipe and the bamboo-wrapped snack since you ordered them.”

With a straight face, I told her I hadn’t ordered those items. I really dislike this kind of scam—and I certainly don’t support it. It wasn’t about the extra 26,000 cost; in monetary terms, that’s practically nothing. I simply refuse to play along with that sort of thing.

Her colleague saved the situation by—I assume—explaining that I hadn’t actually ordered anything else.

I received a kind gift. Yet, it left a bitter taste in my mouth. The idea was good, but the execution was botched.

Another place I definitely won’t be visiting again. The problem is, it’s not the first place like this.

On one of my first nights, I sat down at a street-side café opposite the coffee house. It’s a quiet spot with tables, and they stay open late. It’s a great place to sit and read comfortably after the Highlands coffeehouse closes.

“The coffee is 50,000,” the waitress said. Great. But when it came time to pay, her colleague quoted a total of 66,000. I told him, “Your colleague said 50,000.” He pointed to the menu. Sure enough, the coffee was listed at 60,000—plus a 10% service charge.

*Screw you guys.* That’s all I could say to myself. And that I’m never coming back here again.

You’re lying! You’re lying and whistling!

Zoltán Mucsi and Péter Scherer—who passed away in May—form an iconic duo in Hungarian media.

Most Hungarian readers are likely familiar with the scene. It can be found on YouTube under the title “Mucsi Zoltán Ne fütyülj!”

The scene takes place in a cemetery. One of the characters creates tension out of a moment of calm by suddenly screaming at the other, who had been speaking quietly. He screams at the other person not to scream, because doing so shatters the peace.

Why do I mention this?

At two o’clock this morning, I turned off my light and fell asleep.

At three in the morning, I woke up to the sound of three women screaming at each other in the room. On one hand, they were chatting as if they were out on the street; on the other, one of them was constantly yelling.

It wasn’t pleasant to wake up to this after only an hour of sleep. I’m already used to the man in the bed next to mine making phone calls every morning around 7:30—and not quietly, either. But waking up to that around 7:30 is one thing; waking up at 3:00 a.m. after just an hour of sleep is quite another.

I listened for a moment, hoping the yelling would end quickly. It didn’t. Then I poked my head out from the foot of the bed, expecting my appearance to simply put an end to the commotion. It didn’t. In fact, I couldn’t even get a word in; I just stared at the three women who were screaming non-stop.

One of them seemed to “reward” my appearance by turning her screaming toward me. I don’t know what she was shouting about, but the word “Vietnam” came up so often that I somehow got the feeling she was talking about me—maybe questioning why I was there, or complaining about what Vietnam is like; I really don’t know.

I stared at them for a couple of minutes, like a frog peering out of the grass. Then I lay back down, knowing I could fall asleep even amidst that kind of noise. But five minutes later, I stuck my head out again.

I looked at the woman who was doing most of the shouting. And I started yelling right back at her: “Stop shouting! This is a bedroom—don’t make a scene here! I want to sleep!”

I didn’t hold back. I screamed at her like a banshee.

She scrambled back into her bed in a split second.

After that, the room fell into such a deathly silence that you could only hear the air conditioner.

A few minutes later, I really had to fight to control myself.

I felt an overwhelming urge to burst out laughing.

That sudden shift to deathly silence was just so comical…

Just as it’s comical to have to scream at someone to get them to stop screaming.

I have four more nights to spend in that room.

I hope I won’t have to shatter the silence again just to get some quiet.

The post 348. | Saigon is not for me first appeared on Digital Nomad Blog.

But before that, I might write a little about the little experiences. Or, in this post, a little more about the things that bother me.

So that they don’t get forgotten.

Big city, a bit empty

I’ve been living in the city for a week now as I write these thoughts. I’ve tried to get to know the area thoroughly. I’ve increased my daily walking average of 6.6 km from last year to 10.9 km in the past seven days. In other words, I’ve given the city 84 km to show me something “impressive”.

This hasn’t happened in equal measure. Either Saigon didn’t want to show me anything, or I’ve been blind the past few days. The temples are beautiful, but I think I’ve seen all the temples in the area. I’m exaggerating a bit, so I’ll tell you a little about the area.

The city has a strange quality. It’s as if I can’t go very far. For example, today I set off twice just going straight, so I get quite far. It’s quite natural during my random walks that after a while I don’t even know where I am. But today, both times, I suddenly found myself on the street where I live.

Plus, I found the place where – if I remember correctly – the bus dropped me off when I arrived here in Saigon. I was so happy! I thought I would have to walk a long way home from here. It turned out that the hostel is two blocks away.

I’ll try to just go straight on the weekend, but I don’t believe that there are long straight roads here anymore. LOL. I’m walking around the streets, I’m like a boomerang.

There are also a lot of shops in the area, and a lot of fancy restaurants. But I can hardly find a bench where I can sit down and enjoy the sunshine for a bit. Or even a small street food stall.

The vendors

Despite all my patience, all the politeness and respect I showed in my article “Behavior LEGO”, the vendors are starting to get on my nerves. I had to realize that these people don’t care at all about what I say. There’s always a standup that looks like a dialogue, with less than funny outcomes.

Today, for example, a sunglasses vendor was quite tiring. These people hang a huge furniture board around their necks with a string and carry it next to their bodies. The board is full of sunglasses hanging on it. The board is not only good for carrying and showing off a lot of goods. It’s also good for blocking the road with it.

So there’s no escape. They always start the wedding dance by saying “cheaper”. Not cheap, cheaper. I’ll figure out what it’s cheaper than. I’ve met all the vendors in the area, I think twice. So, I politely say, wai, bow, hand on heart and a huge smile, “no thanks.” Despite this, the good man keeps pointing. He takes off his own glasses so I can try them on. I tell him I don’t wear sunglasses. (Really, I don’t.) Then he takes out a white one. Thank you, no. He shows me the red frame, how slim it is. Thank you, no. After the 5th pair of glasses, he takes out the lighter. This lighter is so cute. You have to pull a little lighter out of it, drag it along the side and this stick starts burning. It’s really special. The little metal box even has Vietnam engraved on it. The only problem is that I’ve seen it twenty times. And I’ve said no twenty times.

After he understands with great difficulty that he doesn’t need the lighter, he goes back to the glasses. Today I found myself telling the man – although I doubt he understood – that I’ve heard this show so many times that I don’t want to continue it anymore. After my 10th nos, he finally gave up.

Two days ago, a shoe repair guy came up to me. I immediately told him that I didn’t want anything. But he – professional injury – immediately noticed that the toe of my shoe was torn. Before I could blink twice, he knelt down in front of me, grabbed my ankle and started pressing instant glue into my shoe. It was like a clever magic trick: I had nothing in my hand, voila, the glue was there. I had to pull my foot out of his hand. And after that, he asked where I came from. Damn, that’s the first sentence of the conversation, it doesn’t come after leaving it at the wooden statue.

My last favorite story was last night. I’m coming home peacefully. Headphones, zen, just my feet and me. Of course, the taxi driver stops me at the corner. Where am I going? I don’t bother with questions that I would have shot from the hip years ago, saying that it has nothing to do with you. I take half a minute to interrupt the lecture, and then I move on.

I tell the guy to go home. Why. Pfff. I know that in this city it can be difficult to understand why someone goes home at 11 o’clock at night. That doesn’t need explaining either, but I patiently tell him that I want to read in bed. He suggests something else.

I have a beer, he takes me to the best place. No way, I tell him. Why. Because I’m a big boy, and I know what I want to do. Now, for example, go home. But just one beer! That afternoon I managed to go far enough without getting involved with the house. Then, far away, I sat down and drank two beers. So I tell the squirrel that I’ve had two today, I don’t need any more. But it will be good, believe me.

Some other time. Then I thought that would be enough of this scene. But he changed tactics. How long have I lived here? Of course, I’m the stupid one for wanting to respond to these pointless attempts at dialogue. I tell him that I’ve been living in Asia for a year, and in Vietnam for 4 months. A victorious smile appears on his face. Then you can’t know everything. I tell him that definitely don’t, and I don’t want to.

After that, he delivered the final blow: I bet you’re not happy. Well, I had to end this show here. I put my hand on his shoulder and just said: you’d lose. Then I left.

Chopsticks

I have more pleasant memories than this.

In one of the small street restaurants, one of the owners was very nice. After I finished eating, he asked me how long I had been eating with chopsticks. I told him I had learned how to use them when I was a teenager. He asked me why. It was simply attractive, so I wanted to learn how to use them. He said I eat with them in a very professional way. I liked this attention.

I really like eating with chopsticks. In most cases, there is a box of chopsticks on the table. You just have to take them out. If there aren’t any, I’ve been given a spoon with my soup. In such cases, I feel a little offended and ask for a chopstick. There should be a limit to the touristy behavior. I’m kidding, of course, no offense. I just really like eating with chopsticks.

Yes, you have to eat the soup with a spoon here too. Or you can simply drink it from the bowl. Whatever you like.

The small vendors, who I have a hard time finding in the hustle and bustle of the many larger restaurants, are usually very grateful that I eat at their place. From this I can guess that most tourists do not choose these small street seats. If that were the case, it would not be such a great experience for them to sit there.

I feel better in these small places. Here, for example, they also notice that the two-handed handover of money is a sign of respect. In one place, the young waiter said to me: “I appreciate it, sir.”

Saigon is the second city in Vietnam that has shown me several things that do not impress me.

There are still 11 days and 2 hours for this to change. I hope that it will.

The post 344. | Saigon II. first appeared on Digital Nomad Blog.

In the article “Arrival in Saigon”, I left the story where I arrived on Friday evening and set off on Saturday morning to buy another pair of headphones.

Since then, I have spent 3 whole days and 44 kilometers walking.

I have something to tell you about.

The first days

My accommodation… Basically, everything is fine with it. For me. But there are elements of the environment here that would easily blow the fuse in the eyes of less accepting people.

There are 12 beds in my room. Now the company is mixed. I think there is someone in the room who lives in one bed as a lifestyle. In the middle of the room there is a completely pointless glass dining table and a kitchen cabinet. Plus, the door to the women’s room opens from this room. Under a printed sign “Men are strictly prohibited from entering”. The city still seemed modest here.

The room was probably converted from a small apartment into a shared dormitory. It also has a bathroom – built into the room. It’s 1 meter x 1 meter, and it has the toilet, the sink and the shower. Fortunately, I haven’t been in a traffic jam here yet. But I’m worried that if the need arises and I have to go urgently, there won’t be anyone there.

My bed is a lower bed. A plank bed, and a thin mattress. An elephant has probably slept in it, because the bed is sunken in the middle. So I can only sleep on one side. It feels like I’m sleeping on a ship that’s being stormed by the waves.

There’s a shoe display in the hallway in front of the room. There are an unreasonable number of shoes on the shelves and on the floor. More than the number of feet calculated based on the number of beds would justify. There is also a guitar (in a case) and a huge treble clef-shaped seating area. Plus a “no smoking” sign, under which everyone smokes inside the building with natural ease.

In Agoda’s system, you can mark that you want a non-smoking room. I wonder how they would solve this. Well, I have never seen anyone smoking in any room, but – as we know – the devil never sleeps.

Me neither. I leave the room in the morning, spend my days in the nearby café, in smaller restaurants and on the street. And I only retire to my bed around dawn.

14+ million souls

According to official figures, that’s about how many people live in the city.

People.

Another very common form of life is rats. I encounter them at every turn. Not only at night. During the day too. They run around everywhere. I’ve seen them in groups many times.

I’m not writing this because they bother me. Nor to hurt anyone. It’s simply a fact. The garbage is taken out at night, I’ve seen it many times. In the area where I live now, there are lots of small alley-like streets. It’s harder to take the garbage out in bags from there. But it’s easier to chew on it.

In addition, there’s a lot of garbage that’s not on the “to take out” list. So I’m not surprised by the presence of rats.

Let’s say, cockroaches either. There are a lot of them everywhere too. They’re more exciting. For example, I had to quickly learn not to put my backpack on the ground in the street anymore. I wouldn’t want to wake up on my deck to find a cockroach analyzing my dream.

I don’t find these creatures dangerous.

Unlike humans.

This species isn’t dangerous in itself. The approximately 9 million registered motorcycles and approximately 1 million cars they drive make them fearsome predators.

The traffic is incredible. Incredible chaos. Getting to the other side of the road here is truly bordering on mission impossible. It’s no coincidence that I get chills when Google shows me that I have to cross the road.

Toilet

Do as the locals do!

I got this advice from a friend who has seen the world before.

I saw a public toilet once during my 44 kilometers, but it was closed.

The whole city is one big public toilet, after all, you can’t close it.

I got an interesting answer to a question I asked this morning. It’s okay for men to pee in the street, but what do women do? THAT was a good question, and my answer is that I don’t know.

Well, I found out tonight. I was passing through a small park in the middle of a large intersection. Small here is not an exaggeration, let’s say with a 6-meter radius, waist-high vegetation. A woman walked in front of me. Suddenly I see her pushing down her pants. Luckily, she heard me sneaking up behind her, so we avoided the awkward moment of seeing what I already knew.

So far, I have only experienced the principle of “don’t look around, just drive!” in connection with driving.

Today, the realization almost landed on my chest.

I visited a local market, but I will write about that later in this post. The point is that I was already walking out of the market on an extremely smelly and poor-looking side street. In one of the shops, a guy suddenly turned his head and spat on the street. I was standing in the exact same direction. Only the low initial speed of the saliva and gravity were the reasons why I didn’t experience the experiential knowledge of someone else’s bodily fluid.

The guy immediately turned away and started laughing, and I even saw that he was already telling the story of almost spitting on a stranger. Let’s just say I laughed too, but there was no one to tell it to. Fortunately, I usually write such things. I’m still laughing about it.

Back to other needs!

I no longer have a problem urinating in places I would never have imagined. Let’s say between a tree and a parked car on a dark street. Or standing next to a fence, if it at least provides some cover from prying eyes. Which there are anyway, because no one cares if I urinate in the street.

But I still insist on some kind of cover behind the event, due to some seemingly stupid habit.

I have often felt that I am unnecessarily complicating my life with this shamelessness, or its falling wreckage. On Saturday night, I almost fought for my life to find something to hide behind. I really needed it, that’s the truth.

Turning a corner, I saw something that confirmed that I was too complicated. In the middle of the road (I’m not kidding!), there was a lit motorcycle taxi. It was parked on the median in the bend. At a 30-degree angle to the median. I think the driver was in a hurry, so he didn’t have time to park properly. But – feeling that it wasn’t safe – he politely left the lights on. Still, safety comes first.

It’s true that he was not only illuminated by the light of the electric pole he was standing under while urinating, but also by the light of his own motorcycle. I’m stupid, and I’m always looking for cover.

Walking Street

Since it was close, I went to a walking street that evening.

It’s not my world, I saw and felt that right away.

As well as the fact that people don’t go here for walks.

The number of scantily clad women dancing on tables placed on the street per square meter was quite high. The number of literary circles disguised as massage parlors was also quite high.

I had to save myself from the clutches of at least three women by walking back and forth across the street. I felt in greater danger here than during the low-speed saliva incident.

Fortunately, each woman only needs to say “no” ten times, and then they slowly finish the wedding dance, spiced with all the practicalities.

One woman made me laugh so much that I have to tell her story. She addressed me with the usual question of where I came from. I’ll just say that the battle is half lost if I answer that. But I told him anyway. I was wearing the same T-shirt I got for donating blood in Laos. He obviously just wanted to touch the blood drop logo on my chest with his few-centimeter-long artificial nails. While he was getting to know the image, he asked, “Thailand?” I told him, “Laos.” “Did you like it?” he asked. Yes. “And have you tried Vietnam?” then he winked so hard that I started laughing, because I had only seen such a scene in a movie.

In the end, we didn’t read Seneca together, because I was ready to leave.

But I found that this city is not shameless.

The first tour

Today I walked 17 kilometers in the city.

My itinerary was simple: Thiên Hậu Pagoda, Chợ Lớn, the Chinese market and Binh Tay market.

The pagoda was a real highlight for me. I have seen many pagodas in Thailand, Laos and Vietnam. This one was Chinese.

During the day, I ended up visiting about 5 such buildings, so I can tell you about my overall experiences.

These buildings are completely different from the ones I have seen so far. The temples can be approached from a small courtyard. The outer walls of this courtyard and the temple are extremely richly decorated. Small groups of statues, very beautiful colorful paintings, and carvings under the roof attracted my attention. When visiting each temple, I spent long minutes before entering the temple, there was so much to see. I was impressed by the detail and meticulousness that was shown here.

The roofs of the churches tell separate stories. The tiles themselves are works of art, which are then decorated with all sorts of – although I thought they were based on the same theme – sculptures and scenes. The roof itself is almost a separate performance.

The churches usually have a main hall and corridors surrounding it on two sides. Lots of incense burners are burning everywhere. There were huge, stove-sized incense holders everywhere. In addition, there are countless places where visitors place incense sticks purchased around the church. These are also used for personal prayer. I also saw incense sticks that I had never seen before. At first I thought I saw decorative elements on the ceiling. I thought of lampshades in the shape of a candy cane, about the size of two heads, winding in a spiral. Then I saw how they are placed on pre-stretched wires using long rods. At that time I also saw that they were smoking.

In addition, there is a lot of oil burning everywhere. They pour oil into oil-burning bowls by the liter.

And there are a lot of statues. Altars. Gold color. Offerings. In a form that surprised even me. For example, someone put a large piece of pork in the mouth of a tiger statue. But I also saw dozens of rice bags stacked on top of each other in almost every temple. And of course the usual offerings of drink, food and fruit.

Each temple offers hours of viewing. With the 5 temples, I have now gone quite far in the experience.

I thought I would go to the local market to quiet the buzzing of my brain.

I didn’t make it. It was a “everything you can imagine” market. Think of anything, you will find it here. Of course, I may be exaggerating. But the size of the market, the number of vendors, the hustle and bustle of people and the multitude of goods together could draw an infinite line.

I wasn’t here long. I quickly got tired of the hustle and bustle. This place has now been put in the “checked” category. I won’t be going to a place like this for a while.

I left the market towards the back streets. This was where the careful spitting happened. It was a tougher story to see the dilapidated, improvised stalls. Here I literally walked in stench and filth. This is not a tourist-friendly side of the market, that’s for sure. I liked walking here regardless.

On the way home, I looked at a small street that the AI ​​had previously said was a typical old Chinese street, worth checking out. It was definitely worth it. The irony of fate is that today (I started writing on Monday, today is Tuesday) I’m already living in a second hostel on such a street.

On my way home, I happened to find a street that would become one of my sights for the next few days.

Book Street.

Well, this is a real danger to my life.

Imagine a garage. With mountains of books. I’m not kidding! From floor to ceiling, so that you can hardly walk between them. Do you get the picture? Now imagine 10-15 such garages next to each other.

The idea of ​​going into one of them was tempting. But I didn’t dare take that step. I’ve been carrying two big books in my big backpack for three months. And last week I bought a new one. I couldn’t risk having a fourth one with me, because I’d get a hernia. And I didn’t come to Asia to open a library.

The city has a lot to show

These are the first few days.

There are still a few places I want to see, but my head is already spinning, so much experience.

Maybe Saigon just wants to ask: why would I hide it?

Maybe Saigon is not shameless because it is vulgar. But because it doesn’t really want to hide anything from me.

The post 341. | Saigon, the shameless first appeared on Digital Nomad Blog.

It was a journey with little excitement and a little loss.

The Hungarian Restaurant

Mũi Né didn’t give me the experience of the second Hungarian restaurant.

I took a taxi to the part of town where my bus left and where the Hungarian restaurant was. I had to go to a café, that’s where my bus left from. The Hungarian restaurant was ahead of me on my way. I didn’t have enough cash with me to buy myself a Hungarian meal, so I had to find an ATM first.

It started to rain. It rains every day. And when it rains, it rains a lot here. I was forced to hide under a small roof and wait. But I wasted time. It had become a rule for me to always arrive earlier than the bus departure, because the departure time here is just informational information.

While waiting, I noticed a woman waving from a restaurant on the other side of the road for me to go there. I had to make a decision. I didn’t have time to go to the nearest ATM, go back to the restaurant, and then catch the bus in time. I accepted the invitation. I knew I still had enough money for fried rice.

I really appreciate the hospitality and problem-solving skills of the people here. The woman didn’t speak any English. All I wanted to know was if I could pay with a credit card. Since she didn’t understand the question, I didn’t feel like translating it, so I took out my card and showed it to her.

She immediately called someone. Then she gave me the phone to talk to this person. I didn’t understand, so I started talking to a stranger, assuming we both spoke English. I repeated the question. And she replied, “Sit down and eat something. We’ll figure something out!” This was such a nice gesture that I would probably accept it even if there was no other way to proceed. If I couldn’t pay by card and didn’t have enough cash, I can’t imagine what the solution would have been, but I would have trusted the person. Maybe I should have washed the dishes.

I showed the woman my last change, which was just enough for a rice and a Coke.

From there I hurried on to the bus.

I would have hurried. But I couldn’t. Instead, I thought a lot about the ancestors of the city’s architects. All the sidewalks are covered with beautiful, marble-like tiles. It’s really beautiful. But in the rain, it’s impossible to walk fast on them because they’re terribly slippery. This probably isn’t a problem for others because I’m the only one walking for miles here. And I’m faced with the fact that you can only go half-steam ahead.

Luckily, I finally got there on time. The bus, of course, left exceptionally on time.

On the bus

I got a ticket for a sleeper bus. So I fell asleep right away. The space was tight, but in the past few months I have become a black belt in living in tight spaces. I will slowly be able to fit in a space the size of a handkerchief.

I got off at the first stop, I was going to find the bathroom. When the bus stops at these places, they usually unload a big box of slippers so that you don’t have to take your shoes back. Which you have to take off when you get on the bus. In such cases, they always give you a bag to put your shoes in. At the end of the trip, I can look everywhere for the discarded bags.

Well, this time the box with the slippers was not there. So I had to go back to the bus to get my slippers. Which – to my greatest surprise – were dumped from my bed onto the floor. “Bus! Saigon! Bus!” From these words I understood that I had to change to another bus.

I think I will never understand this. Why can’t we do a three-hour trip on a bus? Or rather, I buy a ticket for a sleeper bus, and then I have to change to a seated bus 45 minutes before the destination. So why is this trip called a sleeper bus? Whatever.

Saigon is a huge city. I arrived in the evening, in the dark. The many tall, illuminated buildings were impressive. But I will write about the city another time.

The city and the accommodation

I set off for my accommodation.

After a few kilometers, I arrived.

A rather run-down hostel, where I managed to rent a room. The condition of the accommodation is always a bit of a surprise, because the pictures taken of it usually differ from reality.

This was not the unpleasant surprise!

When I got to the reception, I wanted to put my headphones in their box.

I left them.

Today, Saturday, it would have been a month since I bought these, my fifth headphones. I will not comment on this incident now. Anyone who reads my posts knows exactly that I have become a black belt in headphone abandonment.

Today I have to buy a new one, because unfortunately this device is so much a part of my everyday life that it has become an elementary necessity.

I took a long walk in the evening city.

I ate a cheap and very delicious soup. I sat down for an hour (until closing time) at my favorite Highlands Café. I met a lot of rats on the streets. A lot, I mean that.

I ended my walk with an exciting race. I saw a long line of military personnel walking on the other side of the street. A military policeman on a motorcycle closed the line. They were marching.

I decided to make a little race for myself. I left the entire column behind. Moving meter by meter, I slowly reached the end of the column. At that moment, life passed me back to the starting field. The traffic light was green on their side, red on mine. They left me behind.

But I didn’t give up. I put the car into gear and finally left the entire line behind. Right at the corner leading to my hostel, I won the race I had invented, which no one was interested in. It was a good game.

I worked in the hostel until 3:30 in the morning, then went to sleep. My bed is comfortable. A bit rough, but I slept well.

So it’s Saturday morning.

I opened my laptop to see what the exact model of my headphones were.

Oops!

I also accidentally wrote this post in a nice little street cafe.

I’m going to go and buy a new device now.

And I don’t have much hope that I’ll keep this one.

The post 339. | Arrival in Saigon first appeared on Digital Nomad Blog.

You can guess what I got here.

But, let’s go in order.

My arrival

The bus left Đà Lạt very early. It’s not a sleeper bus, so I had some chance to do something during the trip.

Of course, I slept a lot.

We stopped once on the way. That’s when I had the opportunity to discover a small Google Translate translation error.

I didn’t do anything at the stop, just sat next to the bus next to a flower in a meditation pose and enjoyed the sunshine and the music I was listening to.

Then a man squatted next to me. Quite close. I’m used to men expressing their feelings in this country. So I wasn’t surprised when he said with sparkling eyes how handsome I was. In the meantime, he put his hand on my thigh, a little more intimately than we say older members of society usually do.

He asked if I had a problem with being touched. I think the translation went wrong here. I’m quite an extrovert, I have no problem with being touched. So I told him that I had no problem with that. At that point his eyes started to sparkle even more and he suggested that we go to his place then.

I understood exactly what he wanted. I started laughing and told him that I wasn’t going, I was perfectly fine here alone. Maybe the laughter hurt him, but I think it would have been better to pour some water into the glass.

It’s good when people feel free to say what they want. I have nothing to do with that. My job is just to say “no”.

Luckily, I learned this a long time ago, and I’ve had a lot of time to practice recently.

Luckily, I fell asleep on the bus, so I woke up to the fact that I had to get off. Since my place of stay is a little further inland from the main road, it took a lot of confidence to get off in a half-asleep state. And believe me, my accommodation is really where they put me.

It was there.

The accommodation – a slice of home

This current accommodation is a gem.

The yard is like a small Italian cottage. A huge tree gives shade to the entire area. The ground is not concrete or paving stones, but bricks. This gives the whole place a much safer and friendlier feeling.

The room is excellent. Not only is everything in order, but it is furnished like any European room. Small details and useful things all in one. A small air freshener there, a bowl of toothbrushes and toothpaste. Everything is spotlessly clean. The tap is stylish, the sink and mirror are at the right height. The bed does not creak, the lamp in it is super bright.

Shampoo and shower gel are laid out in the sink. I have often experienced that there is a bottle labeled “shampoo” and a bottle labeled “shower gel”, but they all contain the same substance. Well, that is not the case here! Head & Shoulders shampoo(!) and a shower gel with such a coffee scent that I thought I would buy one and carry it around the world, it smells so good.

There is a built-in holder for toiletries under the shower. There is somewhere to put them, you don’t have to pick up toiletries from the floor. In addition, the entire sink is covered with a covering that reveals taste. I love it from the first moment.

There is a living room with an American kitchen. With a kitchen! A watering faucet, a hob, a fridge, a kettle, drawers even on the wall. A hood. Mosaic tiles all over the kitchen counter. Oh my God! I have almost never seen a kitchen like this in the past year…

The living room also has (lacquered) brick cladding, the color of the walls is tasteful. Sofas in the corner. A bookshelf with books. The whole thing is so tasteful. It’s not by chance that I wrote so much about it.

The host lady is very friendly and speaks very good English. When I arrived, she apologized, but they were still sleeping in the room, I couldn’t get in. The bus was very fast, I arrived about 2 hours earlier than the indicated check-in time. I wanted to see the city anyway, so I put down my big backpack and went on my usual exploration tour.

The city

The city has restaurants, shops, and long streets.

I think I’ve listed everything.

And of course the beach. I’ve seen it several times in the past few days. I’ve walked along the shore. But if you’re looking for excitement, this is not the city to choose. Accordingly, I haven’t seen many Westerners in the past few days.

The first day was spent on a long walk. I couldn’t even find a cafe where I could work, so the small Italian courtyard and the excellent American living room remained.

I was completely satisfied with these.

A date

On the second day, I had a Tinder date.

I spent 4.5 hours with a woman after I arrived at the place she suggested in a motorbike taxi.

It doesn’t happen very often to me, but I didn’t talk much for 4.5 hours. You can probably guess who the moderator was.

I learned a lot about how I should live. When will my life be straight if I discover this and that. The basis of the conversation was mainly a lot of thoughts drawn from Hinduism. Some I agreed with, some I knew, but I didn’t have much chance to react.

Two things remained from this date. One, I was surprised by the feelings mentioned in the last post “Conspiracy theories”. I respect and accept other people’s opinions and beliefs. But I don’t need the religious and spiritual decoration that some people put around the world. So next time I won’t give so much time to such a conversation. Especially if it’s not a conversation, but a big teacher-monologue.

I walked home from the school, so I managed to get to know the city for 10 km. At least I enjoyed that.

The other thing I discovered was the Hungarian restaurant.

Pappa Goulash

I was on this date on Tuesday. Tuesday happens to be a holiday at the Hungarian restaurant.

I went back on Wednesday by motorbike taxi, thinking I was going to have goulash soup. And I was talking to the Hungarian owner.

It was half a success that the restaurant was open, but the owner was not there.

I had a hard time ordering. I arrived thinking I was going to have goulash soup. There was so much on the menu that I wanted to eat everything. “Vörösboros marha pörkölt. Paprikás csirke nokedlivel. Túrógombóc. Jókai bableves. Lecsó. Kőrözött…”

In the end, the original plan remained. I got the soup in the small red bowl that is customary in Hungarian cuisine, with beef, carrots and two slices of white bread.

I didn’t miss Hungarian food at all. But I ate it with a very good appetite. It was a real treat after a year. It was just as good as such a soup should be. I could also say that I couldn’t have done it any better. LOL.

We had to stop the motorbike on the way there because there was a downpour. It was at its peak during the meal. My plan was to work at this place. Well, that didn’t work out. The whole place was covered in spite of it. The wind was blowing so hard that everything was constantly covered in water spray. So I just had a coffee and watched the stormy sea. He was 20 meters away from me, I really liked the live show.

Then the owner of the place arrived.

We talked for an hour. I learned that he has lived in Vietnam for 21 years. He has two restaurants, and today (Thursday) I want to visit the other one. (It will be hard to choose…). What really impressed me were the details. Not only the appearance and the food, but the thoroughness with which they work. The bread, for example, was flawless, and I learned that the reason for this is that they bake it. They make their own cottage cheese and sour cream. There’s nothing like that in Asia.

After an hour, we parted ways, happy to have met each other. I wished him good health.

May the sun shine on you!

This is how he said goodbye to me.

I hadn’t even heard this greeting much at home. It was written in my heart…

I officially became a hunter

I decided to walk home that day too. The motorbike took me to the place in the morning on a different road than yesterday. It was exactly the same road as the one I wrote about in the post “Quy Nhơn”.

I had a feeling that there would be a lot of lighters waiting for me here.

I was not wrong! I became richer by 19 small dice today.

On the way, it started raining again. Because of this, I spent some time under the trees along the road. And so, I had to break the lighters, not to mention that I had to pay attention to the road to find them.

It was a nice walk, I really enjoyed this gathering.

Life always shows that what I plan is not the best. Always.

On the way, a very good friend of mine sent me a message:

“I GOT THE JOB!!!”

All I could say to him was, “I’ll make this a little easier.”

We’ve been friends for nearly 30 years. We’ve been there for each other through so many tough times. I know how much and how hard he’s always struggled to get by.

We’ve been talking for the past few weeks as he prepared for a job interview. He trusted and worked. He became uncertain and moved on. It’s going to be a tough task for him. He’s been hired as a manager.

I was so happy about this success. I was so happy that he succeeded that tears really came to my eyes.

Then, as the moment passed, another realization dawned on me.

I’m at home in myself, I know that for sure.

But now I understand that I’m at home in myself and in hearts.

I live in other people’s hearts sometimes. I don’t have to know when or in whom. I’m there, I feel it many times. It’s all that simple. I’m grateful for my life, and for every person who lets me into their heart sometimes.

Friday

I wrote this article on Thursday.

I worked and am getting ready for the Hungarian restaurant.

Tomorrow I will check out a few things that this city usually shows to tourists. My experiences related to this will be posted here soon.

It’s Friday morning. But before the adventures, I have to go back a bit to yesterday.

On the one hand, I missed the Hungarian restaurant. I walked around a lot on Tuesday and Wednesday, I decided I’d rather work until the evening.

I bought my bus ticket and booked my accommodation. The next town I wanted to go to was Vũng Tàu. I’ll skip it. There is no direct flight from here. All I know about the settlement is that it is beautiful, but there is really nothing there. So I decided to go straight to Saigon from here.

This is the end of my 1,800 km trip to Vietnam that lasted 5 weeks. I will be in Saigon until the middle of September, from there I will go to the next country.

“Ninh Binh“, “Phong Nha“, “Huế“, “Da Nang“, “Hoi An“, “Quy Nhơn“, “Tuy Hòa“, “Nha Trang“, “Đà Lạt” and Mũi Né.

10 unforgettable settlements, countless adventures. It was enough. It will be nice to spend a few weeks in one city. I’m not promising myself that I won’t move within the city, but after today’s trip, the next big trip will lead to Cambodia.

The other thing that makes me have to go back a bit to yesterday is a 22-year-old German girl. I got up early, so I was in my bed relatively early (11:00 p.m.). Suddenly someone pulled my curtain. I saw a beautified girl. He apologized but was at a loss. He said that his stomach hurts, he needs to vomit and he doesn’t know what to do.

To be honest, I didn’t even know what to do at this point. However, I could see that he was very upset, so all I could do was calm him down. We talked about this this morning, I apologized for not being able to do more for him, but he was grateful because he said he really needed to calm down.

He is better now, I was happy about that. I told him yesterday that I would be in the room until four in the morning and that he should wake up whenever he needed anything. I wasn’t glad he didn’t wake me up because I wanted to sleep. Good thing we got through the night without a problem.

Four o’clock in the morning

I woke up early. So did one of my roommates. It turned out that the young Swiss guy was also coming for the tour that I woke up for. By the way, the German girl was also going to come for this, but for known reasons she skipped this day.

A real UAZ came to pick us up. I’ve known this car made in the Soviet Union since I was a child. It’s still used in Hungary today, mainly by hunters. It was a great experience to travel in this car.

But that wasn’t the day’s program.

There was a Canadian woman in the car. When she heard that I was Hungarian, she apologized in Hungarian that she didn’t speak Hungarian very well. Her parents are Hungarian, but she only spoke Hungarian with her grandparents. What a coincidence! Hungarian restaurant and a Hungarian descendant within two days.

White Sand Dunes

Our guide took the three of us to the White Sand Dunes. More precisely, to the foot of these, from where they took us up to the top of the sand dune with an ATW. From there we watched the sunrise.

It was beautiful. The whole place was as one imagines a desert to be. Huge sand hills, with sharp edges, a constantly blowing wind. Sand that felt like your feet. Beautiful clouds in the sky, some greenery nearby. With a huge lake behind us, we had everything we needed to paint an imaginary perfect still life.

The wind was blowing so hard that I had to take off my hat. My slippers were so useless in the sand that I had to put them in my bag too. I sat down on the edge of one of the sand dunes, but the wind blew so much sand into my eyes and face that I quickly realized that this was not a good idea. I stood there watching the sunrise. I couldn’t take a video because of the sand and wind, so I can’t show it on “The Miracle is Already Here”. Maybe the pictures will show how amazing this experience was.

After the spectacle, I was taken by ATW to the other side of the hills. Well, it was a real test of the stomach. We went straight down the incredibly steep sand hills, sideways on the hill, with incredible speed and extreme ease. For a moment or two, I felt like my stomach was about to leave my body. It was scary, but it felt really good.

Red Sand Dunes

From here we took the jeep to the red sand dunes, to another part of the city. This was no longer on a lake shore, but by the sea. The blue of the sky, the gray of the sea, the green of the trees and the red of the sand appeared before me in incredible harmony.

We climbed these hills on foot. I walked barefoot, enjoying the touch of the sand. Here I could sit down, nothing hit my face.

I sat, looking at the sea, the many fishing boats, the sky, the small town below us. I like this kind of “meditation”. Sitting and looking. Enjoying the view. Drinking in the view. For me, that’s all that can happen here. The word gratitude came to mind many times while I was sitting there.

A fishing village

From here we went down to the rural part of the city.

We looked at the fishermen. This is where they sell their caught fish. People take their catch to restaurants and fishmongers.

We saw a lot of work in progress, and the smell of fresh and not-so-fresh seafood filled everything. There were a lot of people bustling around the area. We got to see a real wholesale market.

Fairy Stream

The last stop on our tour was the magic stream.

I’m a bit sarcastic about these places.

Someone calls a muddy stream a magic stream and makes tourists walk barefoot in the stream for a while and then come back at the same place. And that’s why they charge an entrance fee. At the beginning of the route, they put a man with a snake around his neck, so that if someone wants a picture of themselves walking in the stream with a giant snake around their neck, they won’t be disappointed.

After 300 meters, the first sign with the inscription “Rest! Cold drinks!” appears, but before that we met the first hat and cap seller on the river bank. At the other end of the path we took in the river, another man with a snake was waiting for us. When we turned back, the same people offered us everything.

So business is business.

But I’m only sarcastic because of the game. Of course, I was happy to walk along this stream. It was an experience to spend an hour in the warm water on the way there and back. The walk was worth it, we saw a lot of interesting rock formations, the journey itself was a game. We spent our last hour together in good company, in a beautiful environment.

It was a nice trip, which we ended with a coffee together.

At 9:30 I was already at my accommodation.

Shower, packing my backpack.

I finished this writing.

I’m working for a couple of hours now.

Then I’ll go to the bus terminal. The second Hungarian restaurant happens to be close by.

Mũi Né already gave me a goulash soup. I think I’ll eat a “paprikás csirke nokedlivel” today.

It’ll be good ammunition for Saigon.

The post 338. | Mũi Né and the goulash soup first appeared on Digital Nomad Blog.

1,500 meters above sea level.

It was cold. It was beautiful. It was enough.

My Arrival

I arrived in the city late Friday afternoon.

It was a nearly four-hour minibus ride.

On the bus, I started working on a brand new project. This, and the things that had happened to me in the past few weeks, had lit a fire inside me. This fire warmed me from the inside.

But the air conditioning was freezing me from the outside. I couldn’t wait for the trip to be over and for me to finally feel the warmth.

My worldview already recognizes that desire is the root of suffering. So when the bus door opened, I immediately got the reminder. “Daydreaming is the destroyer of life, Which, squinting, looks into painted skies.” It was cold. Quite cold.

I spent two days in the city. And I often thought that I should put on my sweatshirt. Which I had worn about once in the past year. Or that I should try on my only pair of long pants that I bought in Laos but had never worn before.

In the end, I didn’t put any on. I was a bit cold.

A record holder

After walking a few kilometers, I arrived at the hostel.

It turned out that this hostel also has another building in the city and I booked a room there. But we didn’t make a problem of it. There was a bed for me there too.

The receptionist set a new record. After I arrived and exchanged a couple of sentences with her, she said the following: “You seem like a very happy person!” I laughed and told her that I had heard this a few times recently, but it usually takes an hour or two of conversation before someone comes to this conclusion. “What makes you think that?” I asked. She said that as soon as I entered, my smile and the energy emanating from me made her feel that way. And I felt that she was a record holder.

I could also give her something. A few days ago, I found a stuffed cat while walking on the beach. It was in such good condition that I put it in the outside pocket of my bag. I thought we could travel together for a while. Then, when the girl gave me her WhatsApp number so that I could reach her if I needed help, I saw her picture. She was photographed with a cat. After I asked her if she liked cats, she said yes, but she didn’t have one right now. So I was able to symbolically change that with a stuffed figure caught in the sea.

Family dinner

The hostel offered many programs, but I ended up only participating in one. But it started half an hour after I arrived.

It’s called a family dinner because the hostel is a family business. That evening, we had dinner with 5 other guests. Just like I’ve had the chance to experience several times in the past few months. They put a lot of delicious food on plates in front of us and we shared everything fairly. My favorites were the mango chicken breast, the breaded chicken breast bites, and the vanilla pancakes.

The food was delicious, the company was great, and it was getting late, but I wanted to get some work done before I fell asleep.

Steve

That’s when I met Steve.

We had a good laugh for a moment about introducing ourselves with similar names. The difference is that it’s his real name too.

We spent a lot of time together over the next two days, so I can now tell you what I only learned the next morning.

He’s the first person in my year who could talk specifically about his plans and ideas. Someone who has a vision for his own future and is working on it regularly. It’s interesting and sad at the same time because most of the people I met didn’t really think about projects or products. They were more about being and traveling.

I don’t want to judge, I just felt sorry for them a lot. Because these people didn’t seem happy to me. But, I may be wrong!

A nice trip

The next morning we continued our long conversation from the first evening. We both worked a little on our computers. Then he asked me if I wanted to go for a walk with him and a young Japanese guy to a lake.

Of course I wanted to. So the three of us went on a lake-finding tour of the city for several hours. Because somehow we couldn’t easily find the lake. They were the same kind of people as I am. Almost at the same time, we said we should go check it out as we passed a church. Our eyes lit up when we saw a girl making fried bananas. We munched on the banana together.

Finally, we sat down together on the shore of the lake and just enjoyed being there. There was nothing special about the lake or around it. It was simply beautiful. And three guys were just happy to be there.

We left the lake by a different road than we had come by. The result was that we had to try to cross a huge sea of ​​mud with dry feet. We almost did it. Then we were able to go back to a paved road through a barbed wire fence. After all three of us successfully got through the barbed wire, I saw the sign. It clearly stated that entry was prohibited, a closed, military area. It was a good thing that we didn’t enter there, but left.

After that, we wandered a lot through the maze of huge plastic tents and dead ends. It’s no use, Google Maps can’t contain a map of every plastic tent area.

It was a nice day with the guys.

Plus, it was a year ago today that I left for Asia.

We agreed that it was a birthday, so after the long walk, Steve invited me to a pastry shop. An excellent brownie with ice cream on top was just the right birthday cake.

Sunday

We spent the next day working together. This was in common in that we worked in the same place.

We started the day at the hostel. But it was cold on the terrace. We suddenly thought that we should have lunch and continue working in a cafe.

So we had a walk together for the day, and a lot of talking, eating together and working.

We said goodbye to each other in the evening, because we knew that we would not see each other again in the morning.

Apparently, not much happened in Da Lat.

What did happen was still full of energy, good conversations and connecting with purposeful, like-minded people.

I do not remember the cold in connection with this city.

Da Lat is a city of right and left.

Its streets resemble a large labyrinth. I did not manage to learn where everything is in two days.

I was constantly lost.

I loved it.

The post 336. | Đà Lạt, where I was cold first appeared on Digital Nomad Blog.

Russians

Every second person I meet on the street is Russian. I hear more Russian words than Vietnamese. The signs in the shops, the menus are translated into Russian, not English.

Several times a local resident put Google Translate in front of me, where he translated what he was saying from Vietnamese to Russian. After I told him in English that I didn’t understand what he was saying.

The tourists

In a few moments, it became clear that this city is a tourist paradise.

Beaches and high-rise, multi-star hotels are everywhere.

Accordingly, it is difficult for me to find cheap and local food. Pizza, hamburgers, hotdogs and all kinds of non-local food are everywhere. My beloved fried rice is barely making a dent.

The place is noisy. The tourists behave like tourists. This means anything to anyone. The locals are accordingly more tired and jaded. I don’t want to make a connection between the two things. But I have to. There are fewer kind gestures here. Fewer smiles.

I didn’t even plan to stay longer than the number of nights I booked my accommodation for.

My days

My days were filled with work now, I set aside one day to explore the city’s attractions. That will be tomorrow. By the time you read this, it will be today.

I spent the part of my days when I wasn’t walking at 3-4 Highlands Cafés.

I had a longer sightseeing walk on Monday, which I really enjoyed. I walked over a long bridge over the sea to a smaller part of the city. There I looked at a building from the Champa Kingdom era. I didn’t even have to check what it was. The style was familiar. I enjoyed being close to the sea.

Yesterday I was caught in a tropical rain. It happened just as it is written in the big book. I left the café to have dinner. But before that, I wanted to sit on the beach in the evening. On the way there, a sandstorm hit me. It was hard, the wind blowing the sand in my face.

I sat down on the beach and immediately it started to rain. My Belarusian friend gave me a raincoat to protect my backpack. I put it on my laptop bag. Then I decided to enjoy the rain that was already pouring. I sat with my eyes closed in the tornado-like wind and the pouring rain and I simply loved being there.

With a twist, I had to take a bath and wash my hair. And wash my clothes.

I’ve been working a lot on my Saturday blog posts these days. That’s really exciting.

Over the weekend, I found what I want to work on professionally. I spent a lot of time on that this week too. If the concept is ready, I’ll probably show it here too.

There’s only one thing that’s overshadowing my week. I can’t really sleep in my current room. My bed is quite wooden, and something is scratching me to death every night. So when I go to bed, I have a hard time falling asleep. By the time I do fall asleep, I wake up to find myself scratching myself terribly.

These experiences are also part of my digital nomad life. There is a swimming pool on the roof of the hostel. I wanted to try this yesterday, but it was raining. I planned to sit and read a book in it, so I skipped this experience. I hope it will happen today. It must be special to read in a glass-walled pool on the sixth floor.

I am planning a whole day of wandering around tomorrow. I just haven’t looked into what attractions there are in the area yet. It’s 8pm on Wednesday. I feel like I still have time to figure out tomorrow’s plan.

This week I received a very nice and generous invitation from two of my friends. In mid-October, I will fly from Cambodia to Thailand to spend a week together in a very exclusive hotel. They are coming here for vacation. So that we can be together, they are paying for the entire trip.

After 13 months, they will be the first of my old friends that I will meet and hug with.

I look forward to meeting you.

But first, let’s see what surprises tomorrow holds.

Thursday

Let’s say today started last night.

I tried the pool on the sixth floor. It’s not glass-walled. Regardless, I really enjoyed the experience. I finally picked up one of the two thick books I put in my backpack here in Asia.

When the room closed, I took a shower. And finally, I was so tired that I fell asleep right away.

And nothing bothered me.

I woke up in the morning feeling rested. I was immediately ready to go.

I walked 20 meters from the entrance of the hotel and sat down to have a coffee. They immediately brought me a liter of Vietnamese tea with my coffee. I love this kindness.

While I was drinking coffee, I bought my bus ticket for tomorrow. I booked my next accommodation.

Then I went hunting for a motorbike.

The motorbike case

During my previous walks, I had seen a few places with one eye, and I targeted one of them.

The owner was very happy for me. I was the first Hungarian he saw.

He asked if I had an international driving license. I lied that I did. For one thing, it’s not valid for large motorbikes. For another, it expired the previous month.

The next question was whether he could see it. Since I had left it in my room, he couldn’t. He said he would come with me to the hotel. What? No, you won’t come, I’ll go. I’ve been calling this kind of behavior for a while now smiling distrust. It’s one thing to want to see it. But on the other hand, you know that if I go, I’m not sure I’ll come back. This isn’t about me. He’s not accompanying you because he’s nice, but because he’s distrustful.

And he’s right. If I go, I can easily find another place. Where they might not want to see the papers.

He kicked the ball off my case by saying that when he found out where I was going, he said he would come with me. What!? No way. I’m going alone and enjoying the day alone!

So I left.

I found another place within 3 minutes.

A professional place.

I was given perfect information in English. We signed a contract. Before and during – to avoid any misunderstanding – they explained what the rules were.

They gave me a clean and perfect crash helmet. The bike is impeccable. Clean, adjusted mirrors and no useless phone holder.

And the constructive suggestion that cuts the Gordian knot in two. 50 cc electric bike. No license required.

I don’t even understand why I always suffer with bigger gasoline bikes. I’ll make a note of this for myself now. There’s no speeding with this bike. I don’t have to worry about the cops. It’s quiet. And it’s slow enough for the day I’m in.

It doesn’t have the power that a petrol engine has. But it almost glides on the road. It’s a different kind of experience. And I’ve actually already said to myself that it suits me very well.

Khu du lịch Ba Hồ

This place is about 25 km north of Nha Trang, about 40-45 minutes by motorbike.

I set off here. Without an escort. LOL.

I enjoyed the slow flow on the road. I was burning in the heat of about 50 degrees. I loved the warm air caressing my skin.

I stopped on the road where I saw something beautiful. I stopped to eat where the first nice impression came from.

I also love the way they wait for guests further from the city.

I point to the food and we are ready. There is no menu, no unnecessary circles. I really like that in such places they always give a little soup with the chosen dish.

I ate a bowl of rice. It was very delicious pork with it. And green beans, and a boiled egg. I arrived at my first destination perfectly full.

I bought a ticket. Along with the natural beauty comes a few experiences.

I drank my coffee, wrote these few lines. I am ready to explore.

I didn’t get very far. The path goes up along the stream here. But you could enter the riverbed. Here the path leads over increasingly larger rocks. I sweated like a horse. Because the experience is huge and unmissable. Jumping from one huge rock to the next. In the meantime, watching the water. Looking for fish, following butterflies. The sun is shining, everything around me is green.

Finally, I found a large rock at the base of a tree that gave me shade. I took in the sky, the river around me. And the rock invited me to lie on it for a quarter of an hour.

I took up the invitation.

Then I climbed more rocks up. This whole place is a river valley. The environment was designed to make it a good place to spend time here.

I would have tried three attractions.

I would have liked to go kayaking. But when I saw the small pool where I could just clown around, I gave up on that.

Riding a bike on a wire rope. Well, that’s something. That’s for me. But today there’s maintenance, the track isn’t working. Fate gave up that for me.

The third activity is the Sky Walk. A very promising name. Walking in the sky is again something that would be a shame to miss. When I saw the place, I changed my mind. It’s still worth missing. The word clowning came to mind again when I looked at the circular track built three meters high among the trees. It’s true that I would be 300 centimeters closer to the sky, but still… I gave up on that too in a 2-1 ratio.

I preferred to walk to the end of the area. I kept jumping from rock to rock. I often felt like a chamois.

Then finally came the adventurous part. I needed ropes and irons hammered into the rock to climb. That’s it! Water was flowing off me, not just in the riverbed. My muscles were working. My shoes, which I had bought in Sa Pa, were torn. And I was just happy to be moving.

When I reached the end of the road, for a change, I lay on another flat rock and looked at the sky. More precisely, at the clouds. Today there was such a dynamic performance in the sky that I was just scratching my head. Overtaking. Eruptions. Mergers and disintegrations. Young and old played together. It was an enjoyable show.

I’m now starting down, but before I leave here, I’m going to cool down. I’ve been listening to Symphony X’s Odyssey for weeks. It’s become a pretty good timekeeper, listening to the 24-minute masterpiece at every stop.

We’re already at the finale, so I’m going to leave right now and jump on my motorbike.

The city and the pagoda

I came across 3 sights around this city. I visited one of them on Monday without planning. Today, a pagoda was waiting for me in the city center.

The traffic is terrible. There was a lot of it for me today. On the way there, a thought occurred to me. Every 5 seconds, someone commits a traffic violation here that would easily get me a failing grade on a test.

This phenomenon occurs three times more in the city center. Everyone is driving in all directions on the road, that is the smallest thing. But the fact that they are constantly opposite coming in my lane is very tiring after a while.

There is practically no traffic situation that I can be sure of. Constant attention, constant slaloming can usually be fun. Today was not like that.

Finally, I reached the pagoda safely. Where the locals immediately sent me from the street to the paid parking lot 50 meters away. This local solidarity was also tiring today. They have no reason to send me away, but I was forced to leave.

As soon as I stopped in the parking lot, the parking attendant came with the ticket. I told him to leave me alone for a minute while I locked the motor and got my wallet.

I decided to eat in front of the pagoda.

Here I had to wait until a local resident told the waitress to notice that I was there.

I walked over to a table, put down my stuff. After 10 seconds, a Russian woman came over to ask if they could sit at the table. Of course, I said, and walked over to the other table 40 cm away. Even now I don’t understand what the point of that was.

The fried rice was okay. It was necessary, because I had another difficult decision ahead of me.

When I got to the pagoda, an old man immediately beheaded me for wearing short pants. I only found this strange because there were a few locals in shorts inside the courtyard. Manners are manners, rules are rules. I’m not arguing, I’m just leaving.

But a man immediately grabbed my arm and started pulling me towards a clothing counter. That was enough. I took him to the ground with a chokehold.

Well, I didn’t do that. I just pulled my arm out of his hands and left the whole place in a stinking mess with a “no thank you”.

I fought my way back through the forest of one-way streets and crazy people to the motorbike rental place.

I’d had enough of motorbikes for today. I’d had enough of this city and all the impatient and nervous people.

I don’t mind leaving tomorrow at all. This city is nice, but there are too many people here.

It was better outside the city.

I’m tired today. And not from jumping on rocks.

The post 329. | Nha Trang first appeared on Digital Nomad Blog.

Because sometimes the city says: stay longer.

I ended up looking at three places.

Rest day

Tuesday was a long walk near “Quy Nhơn”. Wednesday was a long night in the city of “Tuy Hòa”.

So after going to bed around 5:30 on Thursday, I woke up relatively late. At 10:30. 5 hours is close to my average sleep time. I wasn’t tired when I woke up.

I didn’t take a rest day because I couldn’t do anything interesting. I just need days where I sit in my office – like a good digital nomad.

So this day only included a few kilometers of walking and lots of coffee shop hours. It was such a relaxed day that I didn’t even take a photo.

Nhan Tower (Tháp Nhạn)

Yesterday (Friday) morning I started the day at the coffee shop again.

But after that I walked. I wanted to see two sights. They were in the opposite direction from the coffee shop. But I wanted to walk anyway. By the end of the day, I had covered a total of 17 kilometers. And I didn’t just see the two selected things.

This 24-meter-high tower is one of the symbols of Tuy Hòa.

I looked up exactly what this tower was. I learned a lot from this little research. Since I gained completely new knowledge, I will mention the most important ones.

I am actually roaming the territory of the former Champa kingdoms. They existed from the 2nd century to the 19th century. I had never heard of them before. However, they were an independent civilization until the centuries-long Vietnamese push south forced them into a minority.

They still live as a minority in the country and in Cambodia. Culturally, the Indian influence in this civilization was very strong. Hinduism – especially the cult of Shiva – was dominant for centuries, while Buddhism was also present. That is why we can see Hindu deities, lingas, Sanskrit inscriptions and the influence of Indian temple architecture on Cham buildings.

So my day yesterday has a different color. Tháp Nhạn is not simply an old Vietnamese temple. It is a memory of an era when another people, with a different language, religious tradition and political system, lived and built in this region.

Incidentally, it stands on a hilltop from which the entire area was beautifully visible. I gave myself time to look around, walked around the place thoroughly and sat on the panoramic benches.

A few hundred meters away, however, it was quite strong.

Martyrs Memorial, Phu Yen Province

On the other side of the hill stands a memorial.

A modern building. It has only existed for a few decades.

A very beautiful building from the outside. It stands on Swallow Hill, and the building itself depicts flying swallows.

There is nothing else inside, only 42 marble columns.

With 14,085 names.

Those who fell in the war around Phú Yên.

When I was there, I did not know the exact number yet, but I estimated the names to be at least 10,000.

I felt like I was incapable of anything else but to walk around among the columns with my head bowed. All the while, I thought about how pointless all wars are. It must be cliché, but these names could be written somewhere else. On the spines of books. On wedding invitations. On the list of founders of foundations. Or simply into people’s hearts. Anywhere but marble columns…

Ironically, fighter jets flew over the hill several times while I was there.

I walked slowly, the shadows of the marble columns accompanying me for a while.

Nghinh Phong Tower

The long walk from here to the next station was nice.

Especially since Google Maps twice took me into such labyrinthine little streets, from which – after discovering several dead ends – the road only took me back.

I’ve been to places where I’ve only been greeted by astonished looks. What are you doing here?

In the past few weeks, I’ve learned a very important little thing. Vietnamese people hold the thing they want to hand over to someone with both hands. It’s a sign of respect. It was something I’d seen, but never thought about. It was only in retrospect that the sight made sense.

Since then, I’ve also held the money I hand over to someone with both hands, for example. And since then I’ve seen how much joy this little thing brings.

I surprised a woman grilling corn on the side of the road with my presence. She was surprised that I was there. She was surprised that I was thanking her. He was happy to buy me a corn. And everyone smiled when I gave him the money with both hands.

After a long walk, I arrived at the Nghinh Phong Tower.

This is a coastal monument and city symbol completed in 2021. The origin myth of the Vietnamese people was built with this tower.

There were a lot of people here. Everyone was taking pictures and apparently having a good time. Around the tower, a few large figures dressed in plush clothes caused a sense of cheerfulness. There were also figures in the shape of a panda, a rabbit, and a human.

I also got to know one of them better before I moved on. This place – perhaps due to the weight of previous experiences – again did not bring me any special feelings. This was perhaps a typical “checked” place.

After a long walk, the evening found me back at the café.

But yesterday I didn’t stay until closing.

I rented a motorbike from the service station next to my hostel. I went to fill it up.

I bought two chips and a yogurt. I haven’t eaten yogurt in over a year. And it was durian. LOL.

With these little things, I crawled into bed to have a movie night.

I fell asleep around midnight.

The reason I was so early is because I had a special program planned for the early hours of this morning.

Mũi Điện

I woke up at 3:45 today. By 4:00 I was on my motorbike and riding towards my destination.

I was about 35-40 km south of the center of Tuy Hòa. Vietnamese tourist sources traditionally refer to this place as the point in the country where the sun rises first.

Well, if you look it up, you will find out that this is not the actual easternmost point of Vietnam. In Mũi Đoi, which is further south, the sun rises about 4 seconds earlier than at Mũi Điện.

I didn’t care about the 4 seconds. This is where the sun first hits Vietnamese soil, and that’s it! I went to catch the first rays of the sun today.

The road was pitch dark. It was winding. After a while, it led between coastal rocks. It was an interesting experience to smell the sea but not see the water.

I had to walk the last kilometer, up the stairs. I was at the edge of Vietnam before 5 am. The sunrise started around 5:30 am.

A lot of people came here at dawn. For some reason I thought I would be alone so early. It was a pleasant mistake.

I took a seat at the railing of one of the observation buildings. I put my phone there and recorded the entire sunrise.

I had previously written in one of my videos “The Miracle is Already Here” that there is no difference between sunrise and sunset.

Today I felt that I was wrong.

This sunrise was beautiful.

I almost thought of the word Divine.

The rays that preceded the sun from the horizon reminded me of two outstretched arms. It was as if the sun wanted to embrace everyone. The sea shone wonderfully in front of us. Swallows were flying around us. A few ships were floating in the vast space.

And you could really see the Sun creeping higher and higher. As it poked its head out of the clouds that sat delicately on the horizon like a pillow.

My heart was overflowing with gratitude. I really, really loved this sunrise.

And not just because of the Sun.

When I got there, the young guy standing next to me spoke to me. Several things became clear about him. On the one hand, he was a very smart guy, we talked a lot. On the other hand, he was a photographer. He had been to Europe before. So I drank coffee from a reindeer wooden mug that I bought in Sweden. Because it wasn’t just the photographer’s equipment that was professional. He brought everything so that he could drink fresh coffee with his friends. And his third question was whether I would like to drink coffee.

And so we became friends.

We shared the almost hour we spent standing next to each other with joy and happiness. We agreed to have another coffee in Saigon. He lives there, I’m going there.

We hugged each other several times before parting ways.

My Belarusian friend asked me to feed the dog at the lighthouse if I went there today. So I bought two pieces of cold cuts yesterday. This was a surprisingly lucky move, because there were two dogs. They both enjoyed the sausage.

On the way home, I stopped at a few places along the way to take photos.

Now I’m sitting in the Highlands cafe again.

The words and experiences that have found me in the last 24 hours are swirling inside me.

Today I’m traveling to Nha Trang.

Several people have said that this will be the most beautiful city of my trip.

I’m scared.

All of them have been beautiful so far.

I always leave with much more than I arrived with.

What if I can’t take it anymore?

The post 327. | Attractions in Tuy Hòa first appeared on Digital Nomad Blog.

Let’s just say that this is not the first place I’ve added to my trip to Vietnam heading south.

Yesterday I decided to stop here before Nha Trang.

Prologue

I swear I don’t want to write everything.

But I don’t shape the story. Life writes it. As I’ve already noted, I just write it down.

Today I received another story.

I have to write it down.

On the train

I gave myself time to sleep and recover after yesterday’s sunny hike.

I’ve been sleeping well lately, so I got up early. I’m already very comfortable working in bed, and I did the same today.

I got through yesterday without any problems. This morning I kicked a suitcase in the face. It hurt so much that I had to concentrate very hard all day. I didn’t want to limp through the streets. Instead, I gritted my teeth and took my steps hard.

Then I packed my things for lunch. I ate a Vietnamese dish that didn’t have a single name and went to the now well-known Highlands Café.

Here I booked a hotel in the next town.

Later, I wanted to book the bus I had chosen yesterday. It was no longer available… I had to buy a train ticket. This was the only option available.

The train left on time. However, it arrived in Tuy Hoa an hour late.

I also took the figure very hard at the station. And I didn’t accept any taxi offers.

They don’t know that I like to explore cities. On my own two feet. Even if it hurts.

One of the taxi drivers was even able to check where I was going on my phone. When he saw the 2 km distance on the display, his eyes showed the same thing he did to the biker yesterday.

I feel like these people don’t understand why someone would want to walk 2+ kilometers when they are there. I don’t think I will enlighten them.

The accommodation

The accommodation said check-in was until 10pm. I arrived before 8pm. I felt fine, I think.

I took my bed. Which meant I dropped my backpack and had a few words with my roommate.

Then I went to have dinner and work until 10pm. At another Highlands Café. I feel like this franchise is everywhere. It’s a stable point in my work. I have to say that I like it better than Starbucks.

The free wifi at Starbucks drops me off every two hours. It’s a subtle signal that it’s time to go or buy something new. Highlands doesn’t have that game.

When it closed, I decided to take a long walk. I’m going to shit on my little toe!

I’m a sight to behold in this city again. I haven’t seen a Westerner all night. Accordingly, I’ve been stopped several times. There was one place where about 10 young people rushed to me, shaking hands and asking questions.

Later I sat down on a bench. I was typing on my phone. Then a guy came up and asked me if he had seen me in a pub before. I said I definitely hadn’t, because I hadn’t been in one today. He left, but a minute later he came back and showed me the photo of the two of us. The only thing was that I didn’t know from the roadside stop that it was a pub. This guy with big eyes took a private photo of me in addition to the shared photo.

On the street

I got back to the hostel at 0:30.

I had never experienced anything like this before.

The shutters on the main entrance were down. The lower part of the building was in complete darkness.

I wanted to sleep. And so, habits worked, so I had to go in. I tried the whole program that can be done at such times. Still, a frustrating situation arose.

I knocked. I turned on the light in the hallway. I messaged the accommodation through the application. I called them on WhatsApp. I wrote to Agoda customer service through an AI. (I will only mention quietly that I did not receive an answer or a call back from anyone 12 hours later.)

To get to the building, you had to climb a staircase about two meters high. Here was the shutter. At the bottom of the staircase was a frog. A few meters to the left of it, a couple of rats were dancing in the moonlight on a pile of garbage. But the stairs were clean. And they were made of marble. The air was warm.

After the failure of formal solutions, I thought of sleeping at the top of the marble stairs. By the way, I still consider this a good solution now – hours after the night.

There was another hotel 20 meters away from me. I thought I would take a room there and ask my own hotel for a refund tomorrow for tonight’s price. I didn’t go to that other hotel for two reasons. The receptionist was sleeping so peacefully on the sofa that I didn’t have the heart to wake him up. The other was that I felt sorry for the money. I don’t like paying twice for the same thing.

Pub

And then I thought of another solution.

If life has put me on the street, what if I play it safe? I’ll find a pub and drink beer until morning. Then I’ll go to bed.

The nearest pub was 950 meters away according to Google. Open 24/7. I set off.

The road led through alleys so dark that I had to take out my flashlight. Not to mention the sound of knives being sharpened on every corner.

I got to the place where the pub was supposed to be. There was a building under renovation. With a concrete mixer in the door. Come on, that’s my luck. 24/7. And a concrete mixer.

The next pub was 200 meters away. Also promising to be open all day. Of course, it was closed too.

My phone was at around 10% battery, so I didn’t want to waste any more time searching for a map, because I wanted to get back to the hostel somehow.

So I set off, trusting in my luck.

After a few hundred meters, I noticed a small group of people sitting around a small table on the street. They had taken a seat in front of a restaurant.

I asked them if they were open. Because I wanted to have a few beers.

They weren’t open, but I didn’t seem to care about that question. They asked me what kind of beer I wanted. I smiled and spread my arms and said, “Any kind.”

That was my invitation. They sat me down. They offered me food and we drank beer for hours.

We took quite a few selfies, it was our common language. Only one of the five men knew a few words of English. So we talked using Google Translate until my phone reached 1%. From then on, I became deaf and mute. But you can drink without words.

We listen to music. Sometimes they sing. It was really nice to listen to.

I noticed that Vietnamese songs sound very sad. Yes, that was the answer. Vietnamese people like to listen to sad songs.

I also learned that my nose is extremely sexy. One of the men said this, without any ulterior motive. He likes it too. I learned that Vietnamese women look at a man’s nose first. He said that I’m a winner here with this nose.

I had pork knuckle stew. The head chef was sitting next to me. I couldn’t help but praise his cooking. The dish was prepared with very good flavors. It’s not like Hungarian stew. But it’s full of flavor and experience. At the end of dinner we ate dried squid. I already wrote that around here it’s like chips at the end of dinner.

I left there at four in the morning. By then, there was only one person left standing besides me.

It was a great experience to enjoy Vietnamese hospitality again.

I went back to the hotel with a full stomach. I could either sleep for a few more hours or I would actually fall asleep on the stairs. We’ll see.

A friend of mine found me on the phone, so we talked until 5:15.

Then a woman came, I think she was an employee at the hotel. She gestured and asked if I wanted to go in. I wasn’t sure anymore. The whole evening was so funny that I was seriously interested in the idea of ​​sleeping on the stairs.

She gestured for me to knock. I laughed to myself. I had already done that 5 hours ago. But I tried it for fun. And then it turned out that there was a concierge here too, because he opened the shutters and let me in.

He was probably too deep in sleep when I first knocked.

Honestly, I don’t regret not waking up earlier.

Postscript. My toe is fine. I like the purple color.

The post 325. | Tuy Hòa first appeared on Digital Nomad Blog.