Leaving the active city of Seoul behind, I embarked on a travel to 다낭 화월루 a land I had only read about in history books and jaunt blogs. I wasn t chasing any particular goal. No G missionary work, no life to hightail it just the growth wonder to undergo a different speech rhythm of life, to see how far away from home I could go and still find pieces of myself along the way.
The first stop was Hanoi, where the air was thick with the perfume of street food and centuries of history. The city’s vitality reminded me of Seoul, but with a twist. While Seoul moves at breakneck speed up, always aiming for the hereafter, Hanoi felt like it was unfolding in layers slower, deeper, more debate. Motorbikes zipped past like flocks of birds, but people still ground time to sit by the lakes, sipping iced tea and chatting for hours. I quickly realised that in Vietnam, life wasn t about travel rapidly. It was about savouring.
The food alone was enough to rewrite my expectations. I thought process Korean cuisine had taught me everything about spice up and fermenting, but Vietnamese dishes introduced me to new levels of balance and freshness. A bowl of pho at dawn, with its difficult broth and big herbs, became my favourite way to take up the day. Unlike the wholesome and often intense flavors of Korean soups, pho hard instead of loud. Every bite was a lesson in shade.
Language, of course, was a challenge. Vietnamese tones often made me feel like I was erudition to sing rather than talk. I knew some staple phrases, but I relied to a great extent on gestures and smiles. What stunned me most was how welcoming people were, even when I stumbled through my words. In Korea, people often expect idol, especially from foreigners. In Vietnam, it felt like the elbow grease mattered more than the lead. That unselfishness of spirit up made every miscommunication a shared joke rather than a roadblock.
From Hanoi, I made my way South, fillet in Hue and Hoi An. Hue’s imperial beard past was inscribed in moss-covered walls and ancient citadels, while Hoi An s lantern-lit streets were almost unreal in their charm. Each city added another to my understanding of Vietnam s complexness. I began to see that this res publica, like Korea, had endured vast grimness but carried its scars with congratulate rather than rancor.
As I travelled further, I met other Koreans who had made Vietnam their second home entrepreneurs, retirees, English teachers, and even integer nomads. They spoke of the worldly ties between the two countries, how South Korea is now one of Vietnam s top investors. Korean BBQ restaurants and K-pop caf s were surprisingly park, a reminder that even far from Seoul, Korean culture had base its way into the workaday lives of Vietnamese youth.
Eventually, I reached Saigon, now formally known as Ho Chi Minh City. It was modern and fast-paced, more remindful of Seoul than anywhere else I d been in Vietnam. Yet, even amidst its skyscrapers and traffic jams, the city preserved a warmness that set it apart. I establish a moderate guesthouse run by a Vietnamese mob who burnt me not like a node but like a remote cousin-german. We distributed meals, watched Vietnamese dramas, and exchanged stories about our lives.
What stricken me throughout this travel was not just the knockout of Vietnam, but how it made me shine on my own Korean individuality. In a quaint way, being far from home helped me see Korea more clearly. The things I had taken for granted honour for elders, the grandness of food, common values were reflected here in different forms. Vietnam didn t just feel established; it felt familiar spirit in an unexpected, consolatory way.
The travel from Seoul to Saigon was more than a change in geography. It was a transfer in position. Vietnam taught me that increment doesn t always come from pushing forward at full speed up. Sometimes, it comes from retardation down, listening more than speaking, and lease yourself be metamorphic by what you don t yet understand.
As I boarded my fledge back to Seoul, I carried more than souvenirs in my backpack. I carried memories of divided up meals, roadside conversations, wet nights in unknown cities, and the hush realisation that the worldly concern is both vast and well wired. Vietnam had not just shown me its soul it had held up a mirror to mine.