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| 26th Dec 2025 |
A planless day is a dangerous luxury. Without a schedule, you are left alone with your thoughts—and your legs.
The lie I told myself this morning was simple: Today is a recovery day. I woke up late, defiant against the alarm clock, nursing a mild cold. I had no plan. I had no guide. I just had a bowl of hot noodle soup and a vague desire to secure my exit strategy.
My first mission was practical. I walked to An Phu Travel to book my ticket to Hoi An. I compared the apps, I did the math, and I settled on a "Luxury Coach" sleeper bus. They promised 22 cabins—a significant upgrade from the coffin-style bunks that brought me here. Ticket in hand, I felt lighter. The escape route was secured.
But the wind in Da Lat today was aggressive. It whipped through the streets, pushing me toward the lakeside and triggering an itch for caffeine. I ducked into a café—a tourist trap, I knew, but my legs needed a chair. I ordered my obsession, Salted Coffee, and glanced at the menu. I laughed out loud. Cha Kui. There it was, in black and white: Malaysian Fried Dough Sticks. I am thousands of miles from home, in the central highlands of Vietnam, staring at the same breakfast I grew up with. It felt like a glitch in the culinary matrix. I ate it with a grin. It tasted like a joke, but it felt like a hug.
The Blue Line of Doom Fueled by dough and salt, the "lazy day" evaporated. The cool air of Da Lat is a cheat code; it tricks you into thinking you can walk forever. I trekked 30 minutes to Domaine de Marie, the famous pink church. I snapped the photos. I looked at the view. But the itch to move remained. Next stop: Ngoc Yen Hill. Google Maps said it was another 30 minutes. It offered a grey line—a "shortcut." Never trust a shortcut in Vietnam.
I followed the blue dot off the main road and into a maze of residential backstreets. Suddenly, the soundtrack of the city changed. The honking scooters faded, replaced by a much more primal sound. Barking. Territorial, angry, neighborhood dogs. I froze. The "shortcut" had led me straight into a local housing cluster where tourists clearly do not belong. My heart hammered against my ribs. I walked faster, navigating the chorus of barks, eyes forward, trying to project confidence I didn't feel.
But in the adrenaline, I saw it. The real Da Lat. I saw families sitting on the floor, sharing lunch with their doors wide open. I saw laundry dancing violently in the wind. I saw life happening in the raw, unfiltered spaces where the tour buses never go.
I didn't stop for a "Yelp-reviewed" lunch. I ate like a wanderer. When I saw steam, I stopped. When I smelled spices, I sat on a plastic stool. I didn't know the names of what I was eating, I just trusted my nose.
The Sanctuary and The Slapstick By evening, my feet carried me to a second sanctuary: St. Nicholas Church. I slipped into the back pew just as the evening mass began. After the chaos of the barking dogs and the endless asphalt, the rhythm of the liturgy was a soothing balm. I didn't need to understand the Vietnamese words to feel the peace settle into my bones.
I returned to the hotel and checked my watch. 19,000 steps. My legs were vibrating. My "recovery day" had turned into a marathon. I didn't go out for a cocktail. I didn't look for a party. I ended the night in the most unglamorous, wonderful way possible: curled up in bed, watching Mr. Bean and Jackie Chan clips on YouTube. Sometimes, after walking 19,000 steps through the unknown, the only thing your soul wants is a laugh you know by heart.
Reflection: The Map vs. The Territory
We spend so much of our lives trying to avoid the "wrong turns." We want the direct route, the fastest career path, the most efficient relationship. We treat life like a Google Map, terrified of the grey lines.
But today, the best moment wasn't the destination. It wasn't the pink church or the hill view. It was the shortcut that went wrong. If I had stayed on the main road, I would have missed the adrenaline. I would have missed the dogs. I would have missed the glimpse into those living rooms. Google Maps can show you the road, but it can't show you the life that happens on it.
Sometimes, you have to get a little lost—and maybe a little chased by dogs—to really see where you are. And sometimes, the perfect ending to a day of exploration isn't a grand epiphany; it's just Mr. Bean getting his head stuck in a turkey.
Date: December 26, 2025 Location: Da Lat Steps: 19,000 (So much for a "Rest Day")
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