Pause and Wander

Dates: January 11–16, 2026

Places: Quy Nhon → Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam

We woke up in Quy Nhon with that heavy-limbed, hard-earned satisfaction that only follows a string of truly productive workouts. It wasn’t the “I’ve made a mistake” kind of pain, but the “good sore”—the kind that reminds you you’re prioritizing your health and doing right by your body even in the middle of a year-long journey. That physical presence set the pace for our transition from the unpolished, authentic streets of the coast to the high-octane pulse of Ho Chi Minh City. This leg of the trip proved that while travel days are rarely “easy,” there is a unique rhythm to be found in the friction, where a 14-hour train ride becomes a sanctuary for family stories, and a cramped sleeper cabin feels like exactly where we belong.

Taking a brief moment before diving into the day, it felt clear that we were ready to move on. The apartment had done its job. Nice enough, comfortable, functional, but not memorable. Quy Nhon felt much the same way. Aside from the hotel gym and hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant Xi An Lou, it isn’t a place I’d put on anyone’s must-see list. Still, I’m glad we came. It showed us a more authentic Vietnamese town, one with a rougher edge that hasn’t yet been sanded down by the tourism industrial complex. I’m glad we experienced it, and I’m also glad we’re leaving.

Before heading out, we went back to Xi A Lou one last time. Still excellent. At 13:00 we called a Grab, arrived at the station at 14:10, and boarded our 14:20 train on time. The train pulled out almost exactly as scheduled, which always feels like a minor miracle.

From that point on, the day belonged to the train. Four of us in a sleeper cabin with all four berths meant we had a surprising amount of privacy for a 14 hour ride. No physical activity at all, which in hindsight was not ideal given how sore we already were. Sitting still only made everything tighten up more. Food was purely functional. Apples, cucumbers, Pringles, garlic cashews, and a couple bowls of instant ramen. Not intentional or routine, just what happens on a travel day.

Travel days are rarely pleasant. There’s usually a time crunch, rushed meals, uncomfortable surroundings, and few chances to reset. But after we finished eating, something shifted. We picked back up The Mysterious Benedict Society, a book we had nearly forgotten about. The audiobook had expired on Libby, but Max had the book on his Kindle, so he became the default narrator. The girls said he was “almost” as good as the audiobook voice actor. We’ll take that.

For the next hour, everything softened. We laughed together, reacted together, and escaped the confines of the cabin through the story. The girls were calmer. Max felt more focused and relaxed. Shaina loved that it became a shared moment for all of us. It pulled the day together in a way we didn’t expect, especially given that we were stuck in a tiny cubby on a moving train.

The tension from the night before was gone. Arya’s ear continues to improve, albeit slowly, and with that improvement has come a noticeable easing in her mood and the overall family dynamic. By the time we finished the last pages, the day felt complete. We turned the lights off around 21:00 and all searched for sleep with varying levels of success. Once the alarm went off at 04:15, it almost felt like a relief—we had arrived.

Getting off the train was straightforward. We stepped into the station and were immediately surrounded by cab drivers quoting prices more than three times the Grab rate Max had already checked. We waved them off when they refused to budge. Our Grab arrived within minutes, a roomy Toyota that easily swallowed our luggage. What surprised us most was just how alive Ho Chi Minh City already was. Scooters everywhere, food vendors grilling meat, shops open, people moving with purpose. By comparison, Quy Nhon sometimes felt like a post-apocalyptic film set, whereas HCMC apparently does not sleep.

The ride to the apartment took about 15 minutes. It was still dark, nearly 05:30, but we were immediately struck by how nice the building was. Greenery everywhere. Living walls inside the entryways and climbing the exterior. Clean, minimalist lines with a scandi-brutalist feel that somehow works because of all the plants. Once inside, there was no lingering. We went straight back to sleep.

When we came back up for the day, the girls got started on homework while we unpacked and settled in. This apartment is my favorite place we’ve stayed so far on the trip. Clean, well maintained, and unlike several of our prior Vietnamese accommodations, it felt solidly built. Floor to ceiling windows in each bedroom looking west out over the city. As a builder, Max can feel when a place is done right, and this one put him at ease in a way that’s hard to overstate.

Our bodies still felt sore but noticeably better than the day before. As luck would have it, the building has a gym. Not as big or well equipped as the one in Quy Nhon, but more than sufficient. Treadmills, a stationary bike, dumbbells up to 20 kg, and a couple of configurable machines. As a family we warmed up and within 10 minutes the sweat was flowing. The humidity here is on another level, and we couldn’t immediately figure out the air conditioning which obviously didn’t help matter. But that being said, we all pushed hard and it felt good. We finished with a full body stretch and felt the stiffness melt away.

From there, the day moved quickly. Lunch at Hong Phat Noodles absolutely lived up to its Michelin recommendation. Bao buns stuffed with minced pork, sausage, and quail egg, chicken wings, bún chả, and a pork and wonton noodle soup that was outstanding. Then on to Premier Dental, where the girls were able to get their teeth cleaned on the spot. Clean, modern, and fully on par with anything back home. We grownups booked our appointments for the next day, maintaining our regular teeth-cleaning schedule even though we’re on the other side of the planet!

Next was Ben Thanh Market. Max was on the hunt for a camera bag slightly bigger than his current one. Something that could handle all his gear plus a Kindle and a power bank. It took far longer than it should have, and Shaina and the girls deserve a big thank you for their patience while Max searched through all the options. In the end, he found something close enough to perfect for $13. We also picked up a large luggage bag to eventually ship home, filled with the accumulated evidence of this trip.

That evening we met Vietnamese friends, Vy and Do, who we first connected with over Christmas in the caves and jungle of Phong Nha. The kids played cards and demolished cheese pizza while the adults talked about travel, work life balance, raising kids, and everything in between. Vy quietly and unexpectedly paid for the meal, which caught us completely off guard and left us deeply grateful.

The next day felt steady. We went back to Hong Phat, not because we needed another bowl, but because Finlee had left our bag of dice there. Those dice are indispensable. Games live and die by them.

From there we walked toward Premier Dental for our appointments. We were reminded why we hate ultrasonic teeth cleaners. Nails on a chalkboard. Still, a clean bill of dental health, and all four of us managed to get our teeth cleaned for $80 total.

Afterward, we walked across much of downtown toward the river. Walking in Ho Chi Minh City requires a constant balancing act. Staying alert enough not to step into traffic while resisting the urge to gawk at everything happening around you. Scooters, buses, food stalls, people doing just about everything imaginable on what passes for a sidewalk. Sidewalks here are used for everything except walking. And yet, despite how sketchy it can feel, walking remains the best way to understand a place.

We reached the river and hopped on the river bus along the Saigon River. It quietly does an excellent job of moving people while offering some of the best views in the city. We rode it out to District 2. From the water, Ba Son Bridge, rows of shiny apartment buildings, and the iconic Landmark 81, a skyscraper reminiscent of something out of Dubai, all made the scale of the city impossible to ignore.

Dinner was at a bespoke Thai restaurant, Sticky Rice. Fried shrimp, pad Thai, pork laab, and of course, plenty of sticky rice. Everything hit its mark. Gelato afterward. Passion fruit, chocolate, and mint. That combination of a lazy boat ride, a great meal, and dessert felt like the right way to end the day.

Another day leaned hard into movement and sensory overload. A guided motorbike street food tour meant hopping on the back of scooters and letting confident Vietnamese women weave us through traffic. Grilled plantain with coconut milk. Bún bò Huế with jasmine tea. Bánh khọt—BBQ beef wrapped in betel leaf. Fresh spring rolls. Bánh mì with a cold Saigon beer. Flan and sweet soups. The order didn’t matter. The accumulation did.

One stop landed far heavier. The memorial to Thích Quảng Đức. He was a Buddhist monk who self-immolated in Saigon in 1963 to protest the South Vietnamese government’s persecution of Buddhists. The photograph of his death became a global symbol of religious oppression and forced international attention onto a crisis many had ignored. We talked with the girls about war, oppression, protest, and the value of life. Heavy topics, and not ones that fit neatly into a fun-loving street food tour. We lit sticks of incense and stood quietly, sending good thoughts and juju to the universe. 

After eating so much rich delicious food, and a surprise emotional roller coaster thrown into the mix, we decided we needed to sit and relax for a bit. Foot massages followed. Sixty minutes that felt less like indulgence and more like necessity. Max’s masseuse used a dull wooden poker, pressing into acupressure points with unnerving precision. It didn’t hurt, but it didn’t feel good either. However, when it was over, he said his feet and ankles felt incredible.

Another day started out well but unraveled into low stakes misadventures. We defaulted to 4P’s Pizza for lunch. Familiar and easy. Then we set off across the city to District 2 to track down the ceramic dinnerware we’d used at Sticky Rice. With some searching, we discovered it was made by a local studio called TuHu. The ride took us farther and farther from anything that looked like a commercial district. No shops. No signs of life. We reached the end of a dead-end street, and just as we were about to say this couldn’t be right, Shaina spotted a tiny sign that said TuHu.

The studio was narrow but deceptively deep, packed with beautiful ceramics. We found exactly what we wanted. 12 dinner plates, 12 salad plates, 12 soup bowls, and 12 sauce bowls. The total came to 8.75 million VND. A solid deal. Then came shipping to the US and the associated tariffs. The woman made calls, sent texts, searched on her phone, and finally told us that the shipping alone would be 12 million VND. That changed our calculations.

We were still tempted, but now it wasn’t a deal at all, just an indulgence. Then Finlee asked, “Are these plates going to sound as awful when we cut on them as our old plates?” How had we forgotten? Max asked to test with a knife. The sound was immediate and horrifying. Worse than our current plates. The bowls were fine. The matte plates were unbearable. Decision made. No dishes today. 

We apologized repeatedly and left. Hungry and frustrated, we tried an expat-favorite spot serving Korean BBQ. That was a mistake. Too complicated. Too expensive. Too confusing. After speaking with five different staff members just to determine whether there was anything simple, we bailed.

Where we ended up was perfect. A tiny hole in the wall called Oh Chicken. Beer and chicken. Cards. Exactly what we needed.

The last full day started simply. A short gym session. Then Max set out alone with a luggage roller full of souvenirs to the post office. When he made his way to the front of the line the attendant curtly advised him “No service to the USA”. Ok then—off to DHL who quoted $230! Back to the post office for one more try. They finally quoted even more and it would take 10 times longer. Grumpily he trudged back to DHL and paid. He was deeply unhappy about it. What really makes it that much more galling is that the souvenirs and things we sent back are probably only worth $50 or so. We are such suckers. 

To cheer up, we ducked into SOL for lunch, a restaurant that fuses perfectly the comfort food of Latin America with the bright freshness of Southeast Asia. Duck confit empanadas, elote soup, veal milanesa, oysters. Everything excellent. The ambiance was bright, unfussy, and tuned for lingering, it’s the kind of spot that balances polish with comfort. We didn’t want to leave but they close up shop between lunch and dinner so we eventually had to move on as we were the only table lingering on. Next it was time to hunt down a café, but on the way we bought new sunglasses from a woman wearing a giant sandwich board filled with high fashion lenses. Totally legit. Definitely-not-fake Guccis for $3.75.

Once again we made plans to meet up with our camping friends Vy, Do, Be, and Bon, but for this night out we headed north for a circus performance. Pirated pop music. Acrobatics. Tree men. Frog women. A demon realm. I am still not sure what it was meant to convey. We smiled the entire time. The kids thought it was amazing and tried reenacting some of the stunts in the parking lot as we waited for our Grab.

Ho Chi Minh City felt like the right place to land at the end of our time in Vietnam. Big, sprawling, and occasionally intimidating to move through on foot, it demanded attention and rewarded it in equal measure. The scale, the traffic, the constant motion all kept us alert, and within that intensity we kept running into moments that mattered more than we expected. Meaning showed up in the middle of ordinary days, not because we went looking for it, but because the city has a way of putting it in your path.

This was our final stop after more than 6 weeks moving through the country, from Hanoi down to HCMC. Vietnam was a place we’d been curious about for a long time, and having the chance to stay, move slowly, and live inside it for a while made all the difference. Food, culture, daily rhythms, and the people we met along the way gave the country shape and depth. Getting to reconnect with our camping friends here made the ending feel personal, a reminder that even in a place this large, what lingers most are the human connections threaded through it.