 |
| 20th Dec 2025 |
Okay, I had this fantasy about the Ao Dai.
In my head, it was elegant: me gliding through the streets of Saigon, silk fluttering in the breeze, looking like a frame from a vintage movie.
The reality? The heat index is 35°C, and my body felt like it was being slow-cooked inside a silk casing.
I met up with Phung, my local guide, with high hopes. Her texts beforehand had been super professional, but as we navigated the crowds at the Pink Church and the Independence Palace, I realized I’d made a mistake. These spots aren't just busy; they’re a crushing sea of tourists. There is no room to glide. There is only room to sweat.
And then, there were the photos.
I tried to strike a pose in front of the Saigon Post Office, trying to look effortless despite melting. Phung clicked away. I checked the phone.
The angle was completely wrong. I didn't look elegant at all—just awkward and stiff.
I tried again. Click.
Worse.
I looked at Phung. She’s young, a student doing this part-time. She was trying so hard, but she was clearly out of her depth. The heat was making me irritable, and watching my "Recently Deleted" folder fill up with unusable photos, I felt a spike of frustration. I paid for a guide, but I was basically leading myself.
But then I saw her wiping sweat from her forehead, looking nervous. The "Angry Tourist" inside me wanted to complain. But the "Older Sister" inside me took over.
Let it go, I told myself.
So, I pivoted. I took us to the Café Apartment. I ordered myself another Salted Coffee (my new addiction, seriously) and got her a tea since she can't handle the caffeine. We just sat. I asked about her studies. I ended up tipping her not for the photos—which were a disaster—but for the hustle. I sent her off with encouragement rather than a lecture. Sometimes, the souvenir isn't the photo; it's the patience you learn in the process.
Free of the tour, I wandered the Café Apartment alone. I found a small stall selling scents and discovered "Na Nue Rose." It smelled divine. But then, my budget mindset kicked in. I hesitated and bought the tiny 100ml bottle. Ten minutes later, I was already regretting not buying the big one.
The regret followed me to the Saigon Centre. Uniqlo is cheaper here (mostly because the clothes are made right here in Vietnam). I stood in front of a mirror, torn between sensible black pants and a bold mustard jacket.
Be practical, my brain said. So, I bought the pants.
You fool, my heart whispered later. You should have taken the jacket.
I ended the day with the unglamorous rituals of solo travel. I scouted the route to the bus station for tomorrow—always got to be one step ahead. I did my laundry for 60,000 VND, watching my clothes spin in the dryer.
Dinner was at the hotel. I get a 15% discount, so naturally, I ordered Spring Rolls. Again.
I am clean, I am fed, and I am ready to leave the city.
Note to Self
Today was a lesson in expectations vs. reality. The perfect Instagram photos didn't happen, and the tour was a mess. But being an "older sister" felt way better than being a demanding tourist.
The real regrets, though? The perfume and the jacket. It sounds silly, but it taught me a simple truth: when you find something that sparks joy, don't overthink it. Buy the bigger bottle. Take the loud jacket. Don't let being "practical" steal the fun.
Also, doing laundry in a hotel room is strangely grounding. Even in exotic places, you still need clean underwear.
Current Regret Count: One mustard jacket, one small bottle of perfume, and fifty deleted photos.
No comments:
Post a Comment