Top Stories
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Vinh Hy: Raw Day, Raw Tracklist
Vinh Hy is a fishing village jammed into its cove that drops a new track without warning. An open-air DJ staring down the horizon, dropping his best mixes all day long. No VIP section. No beach beds. No dance floor. The only true happy few is you, facing the ocean. Vinh Hy doesn’t play a…
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Fredo Binh: Full Throttle. Or Nothing.
This isn’t a tribute. It’s a diagnosis. Adventure tourism in Vietnam is dead. Dead from its own cleanliness, suffocated by comfort and compliance. No more larger-than-life characters. No more bastards capable of kicking down the doors of certainty with heavy boots. Fredo embodied tourism driven by raw instinct, truth, and pure improvisation. He didn’t sell…
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Vietnam War: The Hollywood Rock Opera
Watching Platoon for the umpteenth time, it hit me: Hollywood is one hell of a propaganda engine. The kind of tool hard-nosed, die-hard propagandists would literally kill to possess. Platoon, Apocalypse Now, or Full Metal Jacket achieve this admirable feat of magic: reframing the entire story of the Vietnam War around American trauma. The Vietnamese?…
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Dalat: The Sublime Outcast Takes the Floor
On the international tourism dance floor, Dalat looks like a wallflower. Peel off the cheap labels stuck to her skin. Take her gently by the hand. And brace yourself: while the other spots scream themselves hoarse over novelty dance routines, Dalat glides into an exquisite, skin-to-skin slow dance. Because everyone else wanted to dance fast.…
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Dalat Palace Hotel: How to End Up Part of the Set
Checking into the Dalat Palace isn’t booking a hotel. It’s buying a ticket to a period piece and stepping onto the stage without bothering to ask what part you’ve been given. The Dalat Palace doesn’t need you to love it. It needs you to play along. To buy into a romanticized Indochina of thick carpets,…
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Tuy Hoa – Quy Nhon: The Coast with Teeth. For Now.
Between Tuy Hoa and Quy Nhon, the coastline never settles into one long ribbon of sand. It bites. It lunges out in rocky headlands, slips back into hidden coves, disappears behind a mountain before resurfacing a few kilometres farther on. This isn’t a coast you can take in with a single glance. It keeps moving.…
The Travel Kitchen
My blog is a slow, soulful distillation of movement. Every place, every encounter, every detour is not an end in itself but an ingredient: raw, sometimes rugged, sometimes delicate, always chosen with intent.
I gather a fragment of history, peel back a culture, sear a few motorcycle escapes over high heat, and press landscapes until they yield every drop of their essence. Then, I let it all simmer in my own subjectivity. Writing doesn’t explain: it seasons, it binds, it reveals.
This is a table set far from the reach of tourist literature—a succession of dishes, scents, textures, and faces. Here, the “elsewhere” is savored slowly, without a manual, but with a sovereign freedom of tone.
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