Top Stories
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Topas Ecolodge: reconciliation with Sapa
Topas Ecolodge is a dreamer that keeps to itself, head in the clouds, the one that stands apart, deliberately isolated. Far from the open-air laboratory of ugliness that is Sapa, where apprentice sorcerers dare every kind of experiment: aggressive urbanization, incoherent hotels, neon lights, clashing architectures, fake Alpine pastiches, concreting, giant cable cars, parachuted tourist…
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Champassak, stillness in elegance
Faithful to herself. Champassak remains one of the few destinations in Laos that doesn’t seem to be at war with her own destiny. She possesses that motionless, almost aristocratic class that requires no artifice. Every time I return, I feel as though I’m visiting an old aunt with faded, courtly manners—her makeup peeling under the…
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Cao Bang: Bordering on Psychiatric
Cao Bang. Three syllables that crack like three machete swings in the mist. At the far reaches of a North-Eastern Vietnam carved by the billhook, this province—ravaged by landscape torments—imposes itself with brute force to remind you that the earth has teeth. And what a jaw it is! You aren’t looking at a landscape; you…
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Tam Coc Garden: reclaiming the Nha Quê
For decades, it was the great forgotten, if not the greatly despised. Here, the project places the peasant back at the center of the blueprint, a reminder that they are the true nobility of Northern Vietnam, the one who stands tall, feet anchored in the mud of the Red river delta. Far from standardized luxury,…
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When Hue catches a mood
Hue under the sun is almost too clean. The Imperial City gleams too hard, the tombs posture like aging aristocrats, and the whole place starts looking like a carefully arranged film set. But when the sky closes in—low clouds, fine drizzle, sickly light, that’s when it finally exhales. The stone drinks. The walls weep. Hue…
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Sadec: stubborn and elegant
Going to Sa Dec is like giving a peck on the cheek to an old lady who’s seen a lot. She’s watched them all pass through: colonials in crisp white uniforms with neatly groomed mustaches, Chinese traders, nuns in winged cornets, the heavy Mekong barges, ceremonious Caodaists… and even Marguerite Duras, dragging her dreams through…
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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