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| 24th Dec 2025 |
3:00 AM. The alarm went off like a siren. On any other day, waking up at this hour would be torture. But today is Christmas Eve, and I had a date with the sky.
I booked a "Cloud Hunting" tour two days ago, hoping to catch that famous sea of clouds Da Lat is known for. Our group was basically a mini United Nations: two from Singapore, two from Bangladesh, three from China, an elegant woman named Elle from Vienna, and me.
Our guide, Chau, was the total opposite of the shy student I had in Saigon. Chau is an artist with an iPhone, and she takes no prisoners. She doesn't just take photos; she directs them. When I froze up in front of the camera, looking awkward, she roasted my posture immediately.
"Chin up! Shoulder down! No, not like that! Fix your hair!"
She was brutal, but she was brilliant. The resulting photos make me look like I’m in a magazine.
We arrived at Cau Dat, shivering in the cold. The landscape was breathtaking—rolling hills, misty valleys, endless green tea terraces. But the main attraction? Missing. The famous clouds decided to take the day off.
We stood there, nine strangers staring at a clear view, united by a shared disappointment that quickly turned into laughter. We didn't catch the clouds, but we caught the vibe.
The Sweetness of the Earth
The tour pivoted. We went to a persimmon factory, where thousands of orange fruits were drying in the wind like festive lanterns. It felt like walking into an autumn painting. Then came the strawberry farm. The fruit here isn't that sour supermarket stuff; it is candy-sweet. I picked 145g of strawberries myself, paying 58,000 VND for the privilege of eating pure sugar from the earth.
Our final stop was a coffee shop owned by the cloud-hunting guy. It was a total "Instagram trap"—flowers everywhere, perfect views—and I respect the hustle.
I spotted Elle, the Austrian traveler, looking out over the garden. The light was hitting her perfectly. I secretly snapped a candid photo of her—she looked serene, like a painting. I AirDropped it to her later, and she smiled.
Connection. Small, but real.
The Drop
The tour ended at 10:00 AM. And just like that, the high evaporated.
I went back to the hotel, changed clothes, and the silence from yesterday rushed back in. The morning was full of voices and laughter. The afternoon was just... me.
I ate Chicken Rice at a small café, doom-scrolling through my phone. I wandered the flower market, but the colors just kind of blurred together. I ended up at Ollin Café, sipping coffee not because I wanted it, but because I needed a place to sit where I didn't look like a loser.
Then came the reality check.
I went to a gold shop to exchange more money. My wallet felt lighter than it should be. Vietnam feels cheap day by day, but when you add up the Grab rides, the tours, the coffees, and the strawberries, the numbers climb fast. I felt a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach. I need to stop spending.
The Silent Night
Evening fell. Christmas Eve.
Back home, my family is gathering for dinner. My friends are posting photos of feasts and gifts. Here, the churches are full, but the mass is in a language I can't understand. I debated going, but after yesterday’s experience at the cathedral, I decided against it. What is the point of sitting in a pew if the words mean nothing to me?
I chose the hotel room.
It was the lowest moment of the trip so far. I put on a playlist of Christmas songs, but instead of feeling festive, they just made the room feel bigger and emptier. I scrolled through Facebook, liking posts, typing "Blessed Christmas Eve" to people thousands of miles away.
Then, I opened my gallery. I scrolled through the photos from this morning—the mist at Cau Dat, the flowers, the stunning shots Chau took of me.
I looked at how beautiful the images were, and a sudden, sharp thought pierced me.
It would be so good if I were sharing this view with someone.
Not just friends. Not just family. But a partner. The love of my life.
I imagined him standing there next to me in the tea terraces, holding my hand, seeing what I see. The view was perfect, but it lacked a witness. It was just a fleeting thought, but it left an ache in my chest.
I pulled the blanket up. I closed my eyes. Life must go on, I whispered. I hope tomorrow brings a surprise. I hope tomorrow brings a friend.
Christmas Eve Reflection: The Empty Chair
Christmas is a magnifying glass. When you are with family, it magnifies the love. When you are alone, it magnifies the silence.
Today taught me that you can have a "successful" travel day—great photos, new friends, sweet strawberries—and still go to bed with a heavy heart. And that is okay. You don't have to be happy every single second of a solo trip.
Loneliness isn't a failure; it’s just part of the price of the ticket. It reminds you of what you value. I value the freedom to wake up at 3:00 AM and hunt clouds. But tonight, looking at those photos, I realize I also value the idea of a shared witness.
I will sleep through this silent night. The clouds may have missed their cue this morning, but the sun will still rise tomorrow.
Date: December 24, 2025 (Christmas Eve) Location: Da Lat Mood: Surrounded by people, yet alone.
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