SOLO In Vietnam Day 15: Ruins & Resurrection

1st Jan 2026

Most of the world sleeps in on January 1st, nursing hangovers and regrets from the night before.

But in Hoi An, I woke up with the sun.

It felt right to start the New Year not by looking forward, but by looking back—way back. I had booked an early morning tour to My Son Sanctuary, the ancient spiritual capital of the Champa Kingdom.

But before the history began, I had to deal with a modern crisis: The White Pants.

I pulled them on—the pair I had painstakingly exchanged yesterday—and looked in the mirror.

Disaster.

They weren't just loose; they were sad. It felt like a "long-distance relationship" between my legs and the linen. It was the first morning of 2026, and my confidence plummeted. My instinct was to run back to the shop, demand a second exchange, and start the year looking perfect.

But I stopped. I thought of the seller lady. Is it fair to her? To start her New Year with a picky tourist returning the same item twice?

No.

I made a decision. I would keep the pants. I would bring them home, and if I never wear them, I’ll donate them. I walked out the door in my old clothes, leaving the white pants—and my vanity—in the suitcase.

The Jungle and the Bricks

My day immediately shifted from frustration to gratitude. The owner of my homestay, knowing I had an early start, was up before me. At 7:30 AM, she had a hot breakfast ready. She didn't have to do that, but she did.

At 7:45 AM sharp, my tour van arrived. In a travel world often plagued by "island time," punctuality felt like a very good omen for the new year.

Our group was small—just eleven of us from Malaysia, Singapore, Australia, and India—bouncing along a Vietnamese road together.

Our guide was a storyteller. He didn't just rattle off dates; he wove the tragic history of the Cham people as we drove toward the jungle. He spoke of the wars, the lost kingdom, and the princesses who sacrificed themselves. He told us how these magnificent red-brick towers were swallowed by the jungle for centuries, only to be rediscovered by French hunters who stumbled upon them while chasing game.

Walking into the sanctuary in the morning light was pure bliss. The air was cool, and the ruins stood silent and imposing against the green mountains.

To stand among ruins that have survived wars, bombings, and centuries of neglect on the very first morning of a new year puts things into perspective. My morning drama about "baggy pants" felt incredibly small in the shadow of these towers.

The Rice and the Ride

After the heavy history, we lightened the mood at a local farm. We learned to make rice paper the traditional way. Spreading the wet batter over the steaming cloth required a delicate touch I definitely don't have, but it was fun. There is something grounding about making food with your hands—it connects you to the earth in a way that just eating never does.

The day ended with another reminder that I am being watched over.

In the evening, I found a restaurant owned by a Catholic family. As I ate, I mentioned I wanted to go to church for the New Year's Mass. Without hesitating, the owner offered me a ride on her motorbike.

"I am going anyway," she insisted. "Hop on."

And I did. I sat on the back of a stranger's bike, heading to mass. I sat in the church, surrounded by a new community, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

On January 1st, I touched the ancient bricks of a Hindu temple in the morning and prayed in a Catholic church in the evening. I had been fed by my host and driven by a stranger.

I went to bed not just happy, but full. The New Year didn't begin with fireworks; it began with grace.

New Year's Reflection: The Architecture of Resilience

The Lesson: Today showed me that History is resilience. My Son Sanctuary was bombed, abandoned, and overgrown, yet it still stands. It’s still beautiful. I want to carry that energy into 2026. No matter what "bombings" or failures I faced in 2025—or what pants didn't fit me this morning—I am still standing.

The Green Flag: Receiving Help. In the past, I might have refused the ride from the restaurant owner, fearing I was imposing or that there was a catch. Today, I simply said "Thank you" and accepted the blessing.

The Wish for 2026: To be like the My Son ruins: strong enough to weather the storms, but open enough to let the light in. And to be like the restaurant owner: kind enough to offer a bike ride to a stranger just because we are heading in the same direction.

Date: January 1, 2026 (New Year's Day) Location: Hoi An Vibe: Ancient bricks, new beginnings.