Vietnam: A New Year’s Memory
This year, New Year’s Eve was beautifully simple and centred. My husband and I spent the evening watching our current favourite show (Yellowstone - an easy 10/10) and a cheap and thrilling Netflix movie (Carry-On - 6/10). We prepared a delicious cheese and cured meat spread and took turns holding bub, eventually putting him to sleep. At midnight, the bursts of colour from the iconic Sydney fireworks flooded our screen, the TV shots highlighting the city skyline from an aerial view. The perks of watching from the comfort of our living room.
It may have been the sight of fireworks and Sydney from a Birds Eye angle —something about the moment made my mind wander to New Year’s celebrations of the past. One memory, in particular, stood out: 8 years ago in Vietnam, when I was surrounded by the chaotic energy of Ho Chi Minh City’s streets and the unforgettable flavours of Hanoi’s street food. It’s funny how fireworks have a way of triggering not just awe but also nostalgia, carrying you back to moments that felt alive, in a way you didn’t fully appreciate at the time. A reminder that we never know which experiences will seep into our beings and dearest memories.
I can’t believe it was already eight years ago, when I found myself in Vietnam during New Year’s—a trip that left impressions so vivid, I can still feel them when I close my eyes. Vietnam is a place that doesn’t just meet you; it envelops you, flooding your senses with sights, sounds, and flavours that can feel like a hug and a punch at the same time.
Hanoi
Hanoi was my first stop, and it hit me immediately—the city doesn’t waste time on pleasantries. The streets are alive with the sizzling of woks, the clink of chopsticks on bowls, and the rhythmic hum of scooters weaving impossibly close to each other, the streets narrow and winding, filled with people busy yet chill going about their business.
I remember crouching on a plastic stool in the Old Quarter, balancing a steaming bowl of pho in my hands. The broth was so hot I’d have to blow on the spoon to prevent burning my tongue, and the combination of savoury beef, bright lime, and fiery chili created a symphony on my tongue. Around me, street vendors called out in Vietnamese, while locals huddled together over cups of egg coffee, laughing and talking in a language foreign to me and yet so familiar. The sound of banter, community and fun.
Then there was the bánh mì—the kind of sandwich that I still dream about. Crusty baguettes filled with pate, pickled vegetables, fresh herbs, and slivers of pork, and surprisingly a fried egg, all tied together with a creamy swipe of mayo. It wasn’t just food; it was art in a bite.
Ho Chi Minh City
If Hanoi was the heartbeat, Ho Chi Minh City was the adrenaline rush. The motorbike traffic was like an organism of its own—hundreds of bikes, weaving together in a single mass. Crossing the street felt like a trust fall with the universe. You step out, breathe deeply, and trust that the swarm of motorbikes will part around you.
The city’s energy was infectious, especially during New Year’s celebrations. Fireworks lit up the night sky, reflecting off the glass skyscrapers and the Saigon River. I wandered through the streets, passing families celebrating with sparklers, street performers juggling flames, and vendors selling steaming bowls of Bun Bo hué.
Sitting at road side stalls, the chaos of the city melted away with each sip of Vietnamese iced coffee—dark, rich, and sweetened with condensed milk. I’d sit on a bench or lean against a tree, watching the endless movement of people, feeling limitless and grounded at the same time.
—
All these years later, the memories still linger. I can feel the warmth of Hanoi’s street food and hear the relentless honking of Ho Chi Minh City’s motorbikes. The trip taught me something essential: there’s a certain kind of peace in allowing yourself to be swept up in it all.
Vietnam wasn’t just a destination; it was an experience that seeped into my bones and my memories. It was fun thinking back to that New Year’s experience, to the flavours and the noise and the wonder of it all. It reminds me to embrace life with both hands, to step boldly into the street even when the path isn’t clear, and to savour every bite.
