Gilda girl tea: a fun-filled guide to Madrid

It’s what the people want to know, right?

Whether it was a war, invasion, or act of terror, ideological conflicts dominated the news agenda when I was in school. Keen to understand more, I took Religious Studies to A level, studying the world’s major faiths in relative depth.

At their core, they share similar moral frameworks. But between the lack of wars, focus on selflessness and preservation of animal life, Buddhism was the easiest one to actively “lean into” (and – critically – didn’t involve worshipping some bloke).

So when I visited Thailand earlier this year to experience life as a digital nomad, I was excited to hear that you can book time to speak to monks there, as part of a nationwide scheme called “Monk Chat“.

How prevalent is Buddhism in Thailand?

With a temple around every corner, it’s not hard to see that Buddhism is still the dominant religion in Thailand. The country is home to around 200,000 monks and 85,000 novices at most times of the year, according to Buddhanet.

Strikingly for me, is the fact that most Thai men ordain at least once in their lives. They’ll typically join a wat (monastery) before starting work or university – sometimes even returning mid way through life – and can leave, or rejoin, whenever they want. Like spiritual rehab.

If you’re interested in why (and perhaps what the effect of this is) take a look at this article.

The “Monk Chat” scheme specifically, allows people to learn how monastic life shapes Thai society, in exchange for a bit of English language practice. Chiang Mai – in the North – is considered the centre of the movement, so I booked a half-day meditation retreat at Wat Suan Dok, in the centre of the old town, when I visited last February.

Introduction to Buddhism

After a quick cup of tea, our teacher, the head monk, began by outlining the basic history and core principles of Buddhism.

A lot of people assume Buddhists worship Buddha, but that is not true. They do not worship a creator God or idol – not even the Buddha himself, although his journey toward enlightenment, and teaching of Nirvana, is central to the philosophy.

Instead, Buddhism is better understood as a practice rather than a belief-based religion. “Train against doing bad; train to do good; and train to purify the mind,” he wrote on the whiteboard, summarising its ethical framework. Simple, right?

It’s all about balance

As to how much of this the average Thai person follows, I’m not sure. But it’s widely understood that 90% of the population define themselves as Buddhist, and pay close attention to the main principles.

Meditation specifically, our teacher explained, is a tool for observing and regulating emotional responses, helping practitioners return to these principles rather than act against them in moments of difficulty.

We then had a go at this ourselves – sitting for no less than 40 minutes – as he guided us through a seated meditation. I’ve always found meditation easier in a group, and after an emotionally charged first ten days of travel, the enforced stillness provided a rare opportunity to switch off.

Question time

Following this introduction, there was a group Q&A where you’re allowed to speak to the junior monks. I’ve been looking forward to this the most because I was genuinely interested in their way of life.

Can you watch Netflix? Can you discuss the news? Play video games in your spare time? We found ourselves asking.

I really wanted to understand what their habitual lives are like – especially at a novice level – as well as the role that monks play in the community. If I compare to the UK, for example, the Church is very active, and runs sort of like a charity / business. And who could forget the Benedictine’s at Buckfast Abbey? They’re making booze!

We didn’t get far with these questions. Our hosts were happy to talk about the importance of meditation but overall, I felt there was a slightly missed opportunity to understand the social contribution that monks make in the modern age.

But I guess it’s not their job to explain some of this, and we wanted to be respectful. There was also a language barrier, which is fair and understandable.

What about the women?

We did make headway on the topic of female monks (nuns), which felt significant, because they are not officially recognised by the state.

According to a 2019 article I read in Reuters, though, more Thai Buddhist women are seeking to become full-fledged “bhikkunis”, or female monks, by getting ordained overseas, usually in Sri Lanka or India.

Our companion clearly viewed these women as legitimate, but explained that nuns are required to follow 311 rules, compared with 227 for their male counterparts. This distinction comes from the Vinaya Pitaka – specifically the Pāṭimokkha – which sets out the monastic code of conduct. Like the men, women shave their heads and eyebrows upon ordination.

This interview on the topic expands on why this is, and how this landscape is shifting. I’ve also added some videos from the sessions on my instagram (@womanmeetsw0rld).

Is it worth attending?

If you’re curious to understand Buddhism and meditation at a surface level, I’d absolutely recommend trying Monk Chat whilst in Chiang Mai.

I’m interested in religious teachings and philosophies without any real intention to practise, so this half-day experience suited me well – though more in-depth meditation retreats are available for those looking to go deeper.

It’s a donation-based scheme offered at numerous temples across Thailand, and I imagine each one feels slightly different: some more open and modern, others more structured and traditional.

It was a genuinely enjoyable thing to do in Chiang Mai, and even if the session felt a little too focused on meditation for me personally, I found myself reflecting deeply on the topics covered afterwards.

It’s not a bad way to spend a day off from work, is it?

Trapped by traffic in Nimman, Chiang Mai

Three months into life on the road, a day spent with koalas, penguins and an old friend made me reflect on home, belonging and the life waiting for me back in the UK.

“Oh my God. I want one!”

I was in Australia, arm in arm with my friend (and now expat) Becca.

Becca, like a lot of Londoners, committed the ultimate friend betrayal by moving to Australia in 2023. 

Having finally forgiven her, we now found ourselves cooing over koalas at Moonlit Sanctuary, an award-winning wildlife park located 50 minutes southeast of Melbourne’s CB, following a fun filled weekend in Sydney’s Blue Mountains.

A long awaited trip

I’d always wanted to visit Australia. Every single member of my family had either lived or travelled here, and as an 18-year-old I’d mentally planned an entire gap year on the other side of the world, that I was too scared and too broke to execute it.

Just as the desperate migrants romanticised California in The Grapes of Wrath, Australia seems to have a kind of “heaven on earth” appeal for us intrepid Europeans. And more than a decade later, it felt thrilling to be standing on Ozzy soil, ready to wrap up a three-month stint as a digital nomad in Asia.

But where were the crocs?

Perhaps I’d gone a bit feral from all those weird nights in hostels, but Sydney itself hadn’t thrilled me – and when we reunited in Melbourne after a short hiatus, I was itching to get back into nature.

Half expecting to see crocs, snakes and spiders the minute I stepped off the plane, it was a little disenchanting to be surrounded by buses and McDonald’s; so, we decided to book a day trip South to see some of the country’s most dangerous animals – koala bears, wallabies and penguins.

Moonlit Sanctuary is an award-winning wildlife park in Melbourne

After several fun, but somewhat exhausting, months on the road as a digital nomad, I was ready for a cuddle; and luckily our first stop was Moonlit Sanctuary, a wildlife conservation park in Victoria focused on endangered native species breeding, education, and immersive visitor experiences.

Sadly, these adorable teddy-like creatures are not for handling, but looking up at the canopies of the sanctuary, it felt incredibly special to see koala bears in the flesh, even if they were simply napping.

After much pst psttting, and a short interaction with a wallaby (sort of like a tiny kangaroo), we then drove further South toward “The Nobbies”.

I wasn’t sure what to expect at the other end, and was surprised to learn that this is in fact a dramatic, and very beautiful clifftop area on Phillip Island – not dissimilar to Cornwall, I might add.

Leave it to the Aussies to call an area of outstanding natural beauty “the Nobbies”

It’s a great place to catch sea life apparently, and whilst we didn’t spoke any whales or seals, we had something special waiting for us down at the beach at dusk – the Penguin Parade.

Settling down for the Penguin Parade

This is a precious natural phenomenon where hundreds of tiny little penguins spend the day feeding at sea before returning to shore at sunset – all at the same time.

We passed an hour or two on the beach with our hot chocolates, watching the waves and wondering when the first penguins would appear.

It was a bitter evening, and as our steaming drinks began to cool, I wondered if the penguins had lost their way back.

But lo! Just as the light faded – a couple of tiny heads popped up over the water. Then a dozen, then a hundred. The birds, it turned out, were more organised than Becca and I had ever been in our lives. They had been waiting for darkness so that they could travel in safety.

Once on shore, the tiny creatures waited for their friends to arrive – preferring to travel in big groups – before panic-waddling up the beach to their burrows. Above their head, birds of prey circulated, observing the scene and braced to pounce on stragglers.

Luckily for us, there were no fatalities and all the penguins successfully scurried over the sand, before disappearing into the dunes, safe at home for another night.

Wherever you go, there you are

It was an adorable scene – somewhat similar to seeing the lollipop lady gather the children before crossing the road. And after three months of travel, watching the little birds shuffle back to a place of safety and familiarity felt particularly moving.

I didn’t know how this nomad experiment would go, or for how long I’d be able to sustain life on the road, having never backpacked this long alone before. But I had noticed by this point that I was struggling to stay present, due to anxieties about the future.

I knew by now that I wanted to remain “nomadic” – but what that looked like in practice, I wasn’t sure. Thoughts were turning toward commitments at home; decisions about where I wanted to be and what I wanted to do could no longer be put off; and after weeks of hostels, airports and constantly being on the move, even daily decision making was difficult.

I believe this is a scenario that many people on the road find themselves in. On my route, I met lots of people who seemed to be avoiding problems they were having at home, processing something, or just generally lost and dissatisfied with life.

I don’t know if travelling is the right way to deal with those things or not. But as they say “wherever you go, there you are”. At some point you’ll have to confront internal or external challenges, or at least seek support from someone you know – whether that’s a local support network, or someone from home.

Having Becca there to take some of the weight off my shoulders reminded me that even the most independent travellers need help sometimes.

And, like the penguins making their way back to shore at dusk, I felt ready to call time on my adventure and head home too – but not before seeing Singapore.

*If you want to visit Philip Island, can either drive over yourself or take a full-day trip, which cost us around £70 including return travel from Melbourne. We also had a lovely guide who was funny, knowledgeable and genuinely passionate about the animals, which made the experience even better.*

I cross from Thailand to Laos, for a proper weekend off.

I wasn’t even planning to visit Laos during my South East Asia trip last year. Then one day in November, whilst hunched over my desk planning my route, I saw a deeply enticing picture – a wooden treehouse, surrounded by leaves, and doused in sunshine.

It was a snap from The Gibbon Experience – a tourism-based conservation programme that allows people to stay in tree houses and zip wire across Nam Kan national park in Northern Laos.

The organisation protects the area from logging by creating an alternative income, and gives the locals here a way of life. Guests that come here have a small chance of spotting endangered black-crested Gibbons (did we see them? Read on to find out).

After a quick scan of reddit and TripAdvisor – my go-to for travel advice – it seemed legit. And as luck would have it, there was availability during the weekend I had planned to leave Chiang Mai (but not before – so book at least three months ahead!).

Without much further thought, I booked a two night stay (the “Classic” tour) for around £300. This was the most expensive thing I bought during my time in South East Asia, where I worked for three months as a digital nomad – so I didn’t hold back. How else does one spend their weekends off in Asia?

Entering Laos via the Thai Laos Friendship Bridge

First of all, I had to get from Chiang Mai in Thailand – where I’d been working for the week – to Laos. That meant crossing the Thai Laos Friendship Bridge.

This was my first land border crossing of the trip, so I was a little nervous, especially as I’ve mostly travelled in Europe which is pretty straightforward as a Brit.

But having my passport photos and PRINTED e-visa in hand, made the process pretty simple. If you don’t bring this with you, ensure you have $50 crisp dollar notes so that you can pay for your visa.

Laos is a developing nation, so a little preparation goes far.

Most people heading into Laos this way will stop first at the nearest small town, Huay Xai (pronounced “Hox Aye”). Once I had crossed the border, a couple of buses took us into the town, making the process fairly straightforward and easy to navigate as a solo traveller.

Luckily, you don’t need to get Lao kip (LAK) before entering the country – they accept Thai baht, and sometimes even US dollars. So do NOT use up all your Baht when leaving Thailand. You’ll need some to pay for the bus over the Friendship Bridge, and the driver in Laos (it cost us around 200 baht each).

Once your baht is gone though, you’ll need cash. The kip isn’t a strong currency, and the country is cheap as chips – a clean dorm bed will set you back around £6–8, and meals are £1–3. The max you can get out of the ATM is 2M kip (around £70), so just grab the lot, and use it up – don’t get little amounts.

Another big tip – the ATMs in Laos can’t be trusted. Take your money from the machine as soon as it comes out. I was with a girl whose cash got swallowed back in and one took my bank card later in Vang Vieng (a story for another time).

Laos feels much smaller and rural after Thailand, because it is. Memories of the first five minutes include being overtaken by children on motorbikes, and wall to wall adverts for Beerlao.

With this in mind, I had pre-booked a dorm room at “Little Hostel”. I needed a good night’s sleep, and wanted somewhere clean and comfortable.

It really delivered, and the girl running it (who spoke excellent English) even made us a wonderful porridge breakfast. There’s a number of nice options for dinner too, but bear in mind, service will be VERY slow. That’s just what it’s like in Laos!

Heading to the park, and facing my fear of heights

The Gibbon Experience office is easy to find, and we headed there at around 8am to swap our bigger bags for overnight packs. After a rather glitchy safety video, we put our lives in the hands of the staff and started the two hour drive up the mountains.

The next four hours was a blur that consisted of weeing in holes in the ground (common all over Laos), swapping extremely rudimentary small talk with our guides (mostly just smiling and nodding) and not looking each other in the eye until we stopped at the Gibbon Exp. Headquarters for lunch.

There were eight people in my group (just three couples, and two solo travellers, including me), and after a filling lunch of glass noodles, we started to wake up, and managed to exchange names and back stories (long story short, we had a wonderful time together).

Stopping for lunch at the headquarters

The trip requires a fair bit of hiking, so be prepared

We then took a shortish trek into the forest, where we were taught how to use the zip lines.

It was a little nerve wracking to begin with, because – if you’ve seen the footage from my instagram – you’re extremely high up. In the tree tops, no less! In addition, neither of our guides spoke good English. For full transparency, there was a death in 2017, but since then, the organisation has tightened it’s health and safety (and critically, weight limit). I knew this ahead of time and felt comfortable, but do your research and consider what feels right to you.

I’m actually slightly afraid of heights, but the minute I jumped off the ledge, I was just buzzing. Nothing can prepare you for the incredible views of the canopies, and the quiet sound of the forest around you as you’re speeding along the wire – that’s for sure.

After a couple of hours, we zip wired towards our treehouse and retired for the evening (at around 4pm).

Dinner at our treehouse

As the sun started setting, it was time to explore our home for the weekend.

The treehouses, raised over 40 metres off the ground, are wonderful. It was just like being in Swallows and Amazons, but with modern accompaniments. I’m talking a flushing toilet, electric lights, and a waterfall shower. Yes it’s cold – but it comes with a view of the jungle, so compromises must be made!

Dinner consisted of spring rolls, eggs, rice, noodles and coffee, and was wired in by the guides, who also joined us for traditional shots of rice wine.

Zip wiring for days on end is tiring, so when the guides left, after helping us with our beds, we deftly located the biscuit box and guzzled them down whilst playing card games.

When darkness truly fell, the six of us turned off the lights and listened to the sounds of the dense wildlife, before getting into our enclosed ‘bed tents’ and settling into a deeply comfortable sleep.

The forest is noisy at night, so bring ear plugs if that bothers you (I quite enjoyed it).

Bonding with the wildlife

Up at 7am for brekky, which – given it was a repeat of the last evening – was a bit of a shock to the European tummy. The food remained the same for the next 3 days, with slight variations each time, and allowances for the vegans in the group.

After coffee, we were back out on the zip lines until 11.30, with a fair bit of hiking in between. Not unmanageable, but something to keep in mind – you don’t slow down much, and even our group (20s–30s) was getting tired. Luckily we had a solid three-hour break back at treehouse five for lunch and a nap.

In the afternoon we explored the other treehouses – the 50m-high one, the big 11-person one, and the honeymoon suite where we met a lovely retired couple that had met in Cambodia. All were wonderful, but we still felt that ours had the best view.

We spent the evening looking at the giant spiders in the rafters and trying to catch a rat we saw deep-throating our ketchup bottle. There were also some bats flying through – they didn’t bother us, but definitely get your rabies jabs before coming. I will stress that the sleeping situation unnerved me before I left, but the mosquito nets around our tents were solid, and nothing was getting in. It was plenty warm, and pretty cosy!

After another brilliant sunset, we were up at 5.30 the next morning for a final hike to the viewpoint. This time we headed toward a special viewpoint where the gibbons tend to feed. Unfortunately, despite lingering for some time, we did not see any – but we did hear them singing in the distance, which was a highlight.

We packed in a little more ziplining that day, and by midday, we were back at the village for lunch, photo swapping, and the journey home. We were absolutely shattered by this point, but having bonded on the trip, much laughter was had on the way home – a sea change from the way there!

It really was a wonderful and unique experience, for not that much money by UK standards. You can take a one night trip, but the “Classic” two night tour is less popular, more intimate, and only slightly more expensive, so I would suggest doing this. Just ensure that you book well ahead (at least three months in advance).

My top tips:

• Bed sharing – As a solo traveller, I did have to share a bed with a guy my age. I was comfortable with this because we got on very well, but some people might not be
• Wildlife – Whilst I was anxious about spiders and rats, they didn’t prove to be a problem. The beds are really secure, and as long as you put your net right around it (which we did), you’ll be fine. For the spiders, my advice is to simply not look at the rafters. We did see a rat but the experience turned out to be more amusing than scary. Don’t bring snacks though, as they will eat through your bag. There are bats flying around, so get your rabies jab!
• Games – Bring card games for evening time. I advocate for Monopoly deal
• Timing – I’d opt for dry season, but the trips do run in the rainy season too
• Clothes – Pack as little as you can manage, but long sleeves for the evening (I went in dry season / February). Bikini for the shower (although there is a curtain)
• Gibbons – Accept that you probably won’t see them, but you’ll still have fun
• Length – Do the Classic / longer tour (not the Giant Loop)! It’s a more intimate group and you see a lot more

Having swapped life in London to work remotely abroad, what did the Thai capital have in store for me?

At the end of 2024, I quit my corporate job in London after eight years in the capital, and started life as a digital nomad in Asia.

It was thus that I found myself, two flights and 15 hours later, at Suvarnabhumi airport, Bangkok – freshly spray tanned, and braced for change.

After having successfully withdrawn baht, updated my family, filled my water bottle and downloaded my e-sim, I had a full two to three days to explore the city before moving North to the town Chiang Mai, a well known nomad hot spot.

I was staying in Asoke, right in the centre of the bustling mecca of Bangkok. It’s seriously busy – think wide streets laden with traffic – but a good location from which to see the main sights.

I got lost a few times, but for once there was no tube to catch, no meeting or engagement to get to. Nor was I a backpacker on a shoestring budget or timeline. Why am I rushing to my hotel? I thought with a thrill. I have time to figure it out.

As I traipsed through the streets with my rucsack, the heat started to wear a little, however. I was grateful that I’d limited myself to hand luggage only, packing just a few clothes and my refurbished MacBook Air – about the tiniest laptop ever made.

When I arrived at the lovely Samala hotel – which was later damaged in an earthquake – I cooled off with a little visit to the pool, a Singha (Thai Beer), and after a short nap, contemplated what to do next.

Snacks at Ruam Sab market

First up, food of course. The benefit of being in the business district of Bangkok is that you’re never far from a decent market.

I’d spotted Ruam Sab market on my way to the hotel, so journeyed back with my pockets jangling.

Having done a bit of prep for my time abroad (thank you RetiredWorking4U), I knew this food court was where the local office workers came for lunch. As such, it was best to arrive early – especially as I wanted to look about and soak it all in.

Vegetarians – look out for the yellow Je flag!

Whilst I was seriously tempted by the deep fried bananas, I eventually settled for some Morning Glory (water spinach) with rice, and some kind of broth, lathered with a mix of chillies, soy and fish sauce, which is typical all over Thailand.

Meat is eaten in the country, but veggie stalls sometimes have a yellow Je flag, which was a big help, as I don’t eat meat that often.

Stomach full, I was ready to get out and explore.

Touring Thonburi

Nothing beats a tour for getting your bearings, and I’d already found a business online called Hidden Bangkok Tours led by a local chap born in the area.

He runs boat trips in Thonburi, the quieter, more traditional part of Bangkok on the western side of the Chao Phraya River – the “city behind the Pagoda”, he said in one YouTube video.

There’s no doubt social media can kill your brain, but one of the lovely takeaways is finding unusual activities you might not typically consider, like this one.

Desperate to see some lizards, off I popped to Thonburi. As we journeyed through the khlong (canal) in our brightly coloured tail boat – right in the shadow of the giant golden Buddha, in fact – we had what I felt to me like a more authentic insight into the city.

Before I arrived in Bangkok, all I could picture in my head was roads, wires, and hotels – which is accurate – but I was surprised to learn that it’s also lined with waterways. In fact, it’s at huge risk of climate change due to rising sea levels from the low-lying Chao Phraya delta.

Until the late 19th century, the rivers served as the primary means of transportation for people and goods, earning it the nickname of “the Venice of the East”. Venice – in Thailand! Every day’s a school day.

Our guide explained how the old wooden houses lining the canal were what most local Thais lived in, with many families still working directly on the river (although some were now Airbnbs).

We met a couple of them, including a lady who’d sold fish on the river her whole life and, if I remember correctly, had funded her children’s university education with her earnings. I’m not sure how true this is, but either way, it’s a cool story.

Shots from Thonburi, a riverside community located on the western banks of the Chao Phraya River

Being over a century old, many of the properties – which were built on stilts – were beginning to fall into the river. Rebuilding requires official permission, which makes it difficult for residents to maintain them, although I didn’t get to the bottom of why such permission was difficult to secure, sadly.

We then stopped for coffee at an adorable, centuries old wooden house called Baan Silapin, the “Artists’ Village”. It appeared that this was where the young Thai’s hung out, and I spotted a couple on a date feeding catfish by the water – as you do.

All the colours at Baan Silapin “Artists’ Village”

Others – a mix of locals and tourists – were painting in the cafes, observing the local art, picking up trinkets, and generally slowing down. It wasn’t overcrowded, and felt a bit hipster – like a slower, hotter, Hackney Wick. Without the beanies (thankfully).

After the intensity of Asoke, this was a refreshing change of pace – a chance to see a side of Bangkok that I suspect often gets missed.

Do make time for a visit here if you need to unwind from the city.

There’s no need to get a tour, but it certainly adds context and colour. Importantly, I learned how to say Bangkok in Thai – possibly the longest word ever said – check it out:

Trying my first Khao Soi

After my cultural baptism, what else, but more food? Bloggers advised I try Pad Krapao or Khao Soi, a noodle soup in a curry broth, topped with crispy fried noodles. I was keen to work out if I could find vegetarian versions, so later caught the bus down to the thriving Vadhana District in central Bangkok.

Having been kindly directed to the right stop by a group of local ladies who’d teamed up to ensure I didn’t get lost, I found – by chance – a little place called Zong Peep, serving tofu Khao Soi. I promptly tucked into a huge bowl and a coke for the price of about £3. It was a delicious mix of salt and spice.

Khao Soi is one of the best loved dishes in Thailand

Belly full once again, I was pretty shattered and ready to hit the sheets. Do you know the way to Samala? I asked a security guard at a nearby hotel. My mate will take you, he said, shouting over to a guy on a moped.

Better not add this to my stories, I thought, knowing my Mum was watching. But no time to dwell. I pulled the helmet on and off we went, slithering down Sukhumvit in a game of real-life Mario Kart.

Back at the hotel I dived under the covers and set my alarm for an early start. Contrary to my parents’ expectations, I hadn’t been killed, kidnapped or poisoned – so all in all, a great first day.

My first moped ride of the trip

Reality bites (me) in the Vietnamese capital

Most people go to Vietnam with intention – whether that’s to enjoy the history, the food or the landscapes. But too much planning can kill the thrill of travel, so when I arrived in April 2025, following a week of pure luxury on the golden sands of Koh Rong Sanloem in Cambodia I didn’t have much of a view as to what to expect.

What I did know is that it would be very busy (or “cognitively demanding” as this article puts it) – and pulling into Saigon after eight days on a paradise island was certainly an assault on the senses.

Real life Mario Kart

In some ways, my biggest takeaway from those first few days was simply the traffic. I’d been quite cavalier about jumping on motorcycles (Grabs) through Thailand, Laos and Cambodia so didn’t change my routine initially. But if you’re going to Ho Chi Minh City, I’d actually advise taking cars wherever you can (see my instagram reel for chaos in 4K).

The density of traffic here is some of the worst in the world, and whilst the idea of playing real-life Mario Kart sounds fun, it’s best enjoyed against friends from the sofa in my book and I wish I’d been more careful (though I clearly survived to tell the tale!). Don’t risk your life to save a couple of pounds on a Grab. I’d also think twice before riding your own bike in Ho Chi Minh (!) unless you truly understand this part of the world. 

If you need more convincing, even my Uber driver was visibly scared picking me up during rush hour. And crossing the road? Don’t even try it. Saigon does not stop for you, and I nearly learned that the hard way.

A long overdue history lesson

Anyone that’s spent time in Asian cities will understand how overwhelming they can be. Rather than attempt to get to know Ho Chi Minh in much detail, I preserved my energy with visits to two of the city’s most important historic attractions – the War Remnants Museum and the Cu Chi tunnels.

I’d been having a great time on my trip, soaking up the recent history of Laos and Cambodia. The Vietnam war – or as they’d call it, the “American war” – is something I was never really taught at school, and I felt a pull to understand it better. 

If you like to dig into the weeds of things like I do, my biggest tip for the museum would be to go there with some background context. On the 9 hour coach trip from Sihanoukville, I had been listening to The Rest Is History series on the conflict (something I continued with whilst on the Ha Giang Loop) which gave me a helpful grounding in the events leading up to it. Otherwise, it could feel overwhelming – it did go on for twenty years, after all!

In my naivety, I didn’t expect the museum to be so anti American. It’s obviously curated from a communist Vietnamese perspective, and being able to compare the two narratives side by side, was one of the most interesting parts of the experience. Whilst it helped me hold both viewpoints in balance, the long and short of it is that it was a painfully drawn out shit show, especially right at the end.

Keen to deepen my knowledge, I took a tour to the Cu Chi tunnels, where the Viet Cong (communist resistance) lived underground during the war. Crawling through the tunnels, and hearing about how terrible it was for them (and also the soldiers they killed) really provides a reality check of how brutal that conflict must have been. I noticed a lot of Vietnamese people I spoke to still used the name Saigon to describe the city, which speaks to the differing political viewpoints people there still have. 

Re-energising myself with a cooked breaky

But aside from my history lessons – and some very good vegan bánh mì – I didn’t spend a huge amount of time exploring Ho Chi Minh, so apologies that I can’t give more of a deep dive. Simply put, ‘travel fatigue’ had set in, and it was especially acute given I’d just had a wonderful time in Cambodia.

I’d been travelling around Asia as a digital nomad for about six weeks. I wasn’t working full-time, but moving constantly, leaving people behind, meeting new ones, and planning every next step was a lot to process, both mentally and physically. At just over a month in, it was starting to take its toll, and I simply didn’t have the same energy for new experiences as I had at the beginning.

Rightly or wrongly, this most likely shaped my first impressions of Vietnam. For an insight into my head space – on my second morning, I got in an Uber and asked to be taken to Melbourne Café for a fry-up. My first Western meal of the trip, in Vietnam! Some might find that sacrilege, but you’ve got to have those home comforts some times. I’d never been so happy to see a baked bean, but I assure you that I went straight back to eating local food after that.

Breakfast at the Melbourne Cafe in Ho Chi Minh

It’s good to know your limits, and given that so much ‘nomad’ content is overly positive, I’m happy to share that perspective. After all, I want this blog to be an honest reflection of my experience. So, after two days, I headed north, arriving in the lantern-lit streets of Hoi An – where things immediately brightened up.