 |
| 04th Jan 2026 |
There is a special kind of embarrassment reserved for travelers who think they are communicating perfectly, only to realize they have been having a conversation with themselves.
I started my morning in Hoi An with a "Last Supper"—one final Salted Coffee and a Bacon Banh Mi. My private car to Da Nang arrived at 12:00 PM sharp. For the hour-long drive, I was the perfect guest. I chatted with the driver, convinced he was the son of my homestay owner. "Your mother is such a wonderful host," I told him. He nodded and smiled. "And congratulations on the newborn baby! How is the wife?" He nodded and smiled again. I spent the ride praising his family, asking about his life, and feeling a deep connection. What a nice son, I thought.
We arrived at the Cordial Grand Hotel. As he unloaded my bags, he pulled out his phone, typed into Google Translate, and showed me the screen: "I am not the son. I am just the driver she hired."
My jaw hit the pavement. I had spent an hour sending love to a stranger’s imaginary baby. Later, the real son sent me photos of the actual baby celebrating its first full moon. I looked at the pictures and laughed. Language barriers are tricky, but at least the vibes were positive.
Da Nang is not Hoi An. Hoi An is yellow walls and lanterns; Da Nang is skyscrapers and... Hangul? Walking through the streets, I was disoriented. Am I in Vietnam or Seoul? The sheer number of Korean signs and BBQ shops is overwhelming. It feels like "Little Korea" dropped into the tropics.
It was Sunday, so I made my pilgrimage to Da Nang Cathedral. As a Catholic, I always look for a church in a new city—it’s my way of checking in with the community. The walk was 45 minutes, and the streets were eerily quiet. I usually feel safe, but today, the silence felt heavy. I noticed men—mostly older, in their 50s—staring. Not a friendly glance, but a linger. It gave me a chill down my spine. This is the dark side of solo female travel. Your intuition sharpens. You learn to walk with purpose, to not make eye contact, to listen to the "danger" signal in your gut. I reached the church safely, but the walk was a reminder: You are alone here. Pay attention.
At night, the mood shifted from creepy to magical. I went to the famous Dragon Bridge. On weekends at 9:00 PM, the metal beast breathes fire and water. I arrived 2.5 hours early. Was it stupid to stand in the cold wind for that long? Maybe. But I wanted the front row. I wanted to see the monster wake up.
And I wasn't alone. Standing next to me was a disgustingly cute couple from Sweden. They were so full of love it was contagious. We started talking, and suddenly, the long wait flew by. We exchanged Instagrams, and I found myself adding Sweden to my bucket list just because of their warm energy.
Then, the show began. The dragon roared. Fire blasted into the night sky, warming our frozen faces. Then came the water, spraying the screaming crowd. It was fantastic. It was silly, grand, and communal.
I took a Grab bike back to the hotel. The driver drove fast, weaving through traffic, and I felt that familiar rush. Trust the driver, I told myself. Even if he isn't who you think he is.
Reflection: The False and The Real
Today was a day of illusions. The driver wasn't the son. The streets weren't Korea, even if they looked like it. The dragon wasn't real, but the fire was hot.
But amidst all the confusion and the uncomfortable stares, the connection was real. I misunderstood the driver, but we still shared a smile. I felt unsafe on the walk, but I found sanctuary in the church. I stood in the cold with strangers, but I left with new friends.
Da Nang feels different—more solitary, colder, harder to read. But as I sleep tonight, I realize that even in a city of illusions, you can still find real magic if you are willing to wait 2.5 hours for it.
Date: January 4, 2026 Location: Da Nang (Cordial Grand Hotel) Mood: Confused, Cold, but Awed.
No comments:
Post a Comment