It’s early, and my neighbour is already sitting outside, watching life go by. I greet him and get on the coach that will take us to the Mekong Delta region. The journey takes four hours, so I take out my book and, between the lines, let time pass.
Our first stop is Mr. Kiet’s historic house, which is much more than just a home. In the heart of the Mekong Delta, its walls hold stories from Vietnam’s past.
From there, we go for a boat ride along the Mekong River, one of the largest in Asia. At 4,350 km long, it flows through six countries: China, Myanmar, Laos, Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam. I feel like everything in this region revolves around the river.
We arrive at a workshop where they make rice paper, coconut candy with its milk, rice popcorn, sweets made from it, and fermented rice wine. It’s interesting to see. I imagine they take tourists to these kinds of places. We also stop at a workshop where they create paintings using eggshells; they were truly impressive. They are part of an association of people with disabilities or those affected by Agent Orange, which left an indelible mark on many lives.
I have to mention another encounter with animals exploited for tourism. They had a couple of snakes in a cage; you could hold them and place them around your neck. Only one person in the group did it. I think the rest of us felt it was cruel; at least, that’s what this girl from Australia and I discussed. Later on, talking about animals with another girl from Sweden who had taken part in that activity, she fell silent, reflecting on it. I think she simply hadn’t realized it before. It’s happened to all of us at some point. I believe the most important thing is becoming aware and not supporting these practices—they are cruel, and animals deserve to live free, not confined for a tourist’s whim.
We continue our cruise along the Mekong and then board smaller boats, where only two people and the rower can fit. I put on a Vietnamese hat and we glide through waterways I’ve seen so many times in movies. I loved it. It was humid (but not unbearable, as it must be in peak summer). The river is quite dirty and brown, though that is also part of its charm.
We get back on bicycles and ride along dirt paths between branches of the river until we reach the place where we’ll have lunch. As always, the food was delicious and there were vegan options for me. After lunch, we enjoyed a musical performance and some beautiful dancing. The most charming moment was a little girl who decided to join in, adding a touch of sweetness.
We head into the city and stop to visit the Chùa Munirensay Buddhist monastery, where a kind monk shows us around and explains the different postures of Buddha, which I found very interesting depending on the state of enlightenment.
My hotel has views of the river. I take a walk along the promenade before going to sleep. The days have been exhausting but incredibly rewarding throughout the trip, yet by that time my energy is always low, so I’ve focused on enjoying early mornings and everything the daylight hours have offered.
The floating market is our next destination, so we have to leave early. When we arrive, I’m amazed by its chaos, its bustle, and the smiles of the boat vendors. One approaches us, ties his boat to ours, and offers freshly squeezed orange juice for one euro, squeezing it right in front of us. Some people have coffee with condensed milk, which is very popular here.
We’re taken to visit a houseboat, where we see how people live in such a small space.
When we disembark, we enter a market full of semi-alive seafood… I don’t like it at all. I walk around it and head towards the vegetables, strolling and watching how each stall is set up to display its goods.
From there, we walk along another stretch of land between waterways. We cross a tiny bridge that looks more suited for tightrope walkers to visit a rather fun place where they make rice pop explosively.
On the way back to Saigon, I read again during those four hours. The next morning, I go to my favorite café next to my homestay, Misa House, where they kindly looked after my luggage while I was in the Delta.
At Mon Ami café, they serve me a delicious plant-based hot chocolate. There’s a little cat that shows up whenever it feels like stretching its legs, and I keep reading—I’m about to finish the book.
Soon after, I call an Uber that takes me to the airport… and home.
LITERARY NOTE
Yesterday, before writing this post, I finished reading a book with a beautiful, very spring-like cover: The vanishing cherry blossom bookshop by Takuya Asakura.
It’s a novel made up of four intertwined stories, each connected to a different book… but at its core, they all explore the same idea: how words can help us heal.
I loved it because it isn’t a loud story, but one of those that quietly comforts you. It speaks about forgiveness, reconnecting, letting go of pain… and how sometimes a book finds you exactly when you need it most.
It’s delicate, nostalgic, and deeply human. If you enjoy stories that stay with you long after you’ve finished them, I highly recommend it—perfect for spring.
