Driving the Hai Van Pass at Dawn: Why the Fog, Coffee Stalls, and Empty Hairpin Turns Beat Any Postcard
The fog didn’t lift so much as it thinned, one layer at a time, like sheets pulled off furniture in…
Vietnam
Read More
When the Motorbike Sputtered Out Near Km 17
The road from Hanoi to the north doesn’t ease you into what’s coming. For the first hour out of the…
The sampan driver pointed at the far cliff and laughed
We were already lost, which turned out to be the best way to arrive in Tam Coc. The sun had…
Where the Map Stops Making Sense
The man at the rental shop in Ca Mau City didn’t ask where we were going. He looked at the…
The One Rooftop in Hanoi Where You Can Frame a Motorbike Traffic Jam Against a Temple Spire
The first thing I noticed was the smell of fried garlic drifting up from the street below, mixed with the…
The Boatman Grabbed My Shirt While I Leaned Out Over the Mekong
The boatman didn’t speak English, and I didn’t speak Vietnamese beyond a handful of food words, so when he pointed…
What the Water Told Us, One Island at a Time
The sampan felt too small for the work it was doing. A woman in a conical hat, her face hidden…
When the Road Decides for You
The asphalt stopped just north of Phong Nha, which was the first sign that our plan had been too tidy….
The Fourth Cup Is the One That Slows You Down
We were on our third coffee by nine in the morning and the ceiling fan above Giảng Café was doing…