Touchdown in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam — the fifth stop of our backpacking journey through Southeast Asia.
A brand-new destination, waiting to be explored. After our incredible time in Cambodia, we felt more prepared—more confident navigating the unpredictability of backpacking through Southeast Asia on our own. But every place has its own rhythm, its own surprises.
From the moment we stepped off the plane, we could feel the energy of the city—electric, fast-paced, and completely alive. It reminded us of Phnom Penh in some ways, but at the same time, it was something entirely different.
Inside the airport, we joined a massive immigration line, holding our freshly obtained tourist visas and hoping we had everything in exact order. After a tense few minutes, a passport check, and a couple of interrogative questions, we were in. Success.
With our 30-pound backpacks slung over our shoulders once again, we made our way outside. Thankfully, we pre-booked a taxi when we applied for our visas, sparing us from the chaos of negotiating a ride. As we exited the airport, there he was—our driver, holding a sign with our names on it.
We hopped into the taxi, ready to take in our first real glimpse of the city. And immediately, we noticed it—motorbikes. Everywhere. Thousands of them, weaving, swerving, creating a perfectly orchestrated chaos. It was mesmerizing to watch, though I was beyond relieved that I wasn’t the one behind the wheel.
As we neared our hostel, we saw a street ahead completely packed with people—so full, in fact, that cars weren’t allowed through, only motorbikes. Our driver pulled over and explained that he couldn’t take us any closer, but it was just a short walk from there.
The moment we stepped out of the car, we were hit with the chaotic, bustling energy of the street. It was alive—lined with Vietnamese restaurants, buzzing bars, and vibrant nightclubs. The air was thick with the scent of sizzling street food, the bass of music spilling out from every direction. My sister, Arli, and I glanced at each other, wide-eyed, taking it all in. And like so many moments on this trip, I found myself laughing.
There we were, lugging our massive backpacks straight through the busiest street I had ever seen, weaving through the crowd, dodging motorbikes and trying to figure out where the heck our hostel was.
Turns out, it was tucked away down a tiny side alley off the main walking street—a detail we didn’t realize at first. We must have walked past it at least three times, fumbling with Google Maps that refused to cooperate, forced to rely on our old-school navigation instincts.
Eventually, we found it, checked in, and made our way up to the room—with just enough time to freshen up before heading out again. We had one mission: to find the best, most authentic bowl of pho we could get our hands on.
We had always heard about the chaotic streets of Vietnam, packed with swerving motorbikes, but experiencing it firsthand was something else entirely. On our way to find pho, we must have dodged at least 20 motorbikes while crossing the road. The most unnerving part? Traffic laws seemed almost nonexistent. Red lights? Optional. Pedestrians? Fair game. The trick to crossing the street, as we quickly learned, is to maintain eye contact with the driver, keep a steady pace, and trust that the motorbikes will weave around you. It sounds terrifying—and it is at first—but soon, it became an oddly exhilarating part of our adventure.
After mastering the art of street-crossing, we wandered for about 15 minutes, fully immersed in the energy of the city. Then, we caught a whiff of something irresistible—steaming hot pho. Drawn in by the scent, we stepped into a small eatery where a kind Vietnamese man greeted us with a warm smile and guided us to a table.
This place was as local as it gets (which we love), and the menu was entirely in Vietnamese. We pointed to a bowl of chicken pho and gestured for two. Within minutes, steaming bowls of soup arrived, the aroma alone making our mouths water. The first bite was pure bliss—silky noodles, tender chicken, and a broth so rich and flavorful it felt like a warm hug. We added some fresh chilies for an extra kick, savoring every spoonful.
The best part? The entire meal—two generous bowls of pho and two bottles of water—cost us only about $8. As we left, we smiled and said, “Cảm ơn,” meaning thank you in Vietnamese—a phrase we make it a point to learn in every country we visit.
With full stomachs and full hearts, we stepped back into the buzzing streets of Saigon, already dreaming about our next bowl of pho.
As we wandered further down the walking street lined with bars and clubs, we decided it was time for a drink. With what felt like a hundred options to choose from, we debated where to go, scanning each spot for the right vibe.
Ultimately, we let the music decide—after all, we love to dance. We chose a place where the bass was pounding, the energy was high, and the crowd was alive. A host led us to a table overlooking the street, the perfect spot for people-watching. The drink special was too good to pass up—buy one, get one half off—so we each ordered two cocktails each.
The atmosphere was electric. The music was so loud I could barely hear what my sister was saying. Neon lights flashed, smoke swirled through the air, and live performers danced on stage, adding to the vibrant chaos of the night. We sipped our drinks, took in the sights, and let ourselves get lost in the moment.
After about an hour, exhaustion from our long travel day started creeping in. With an early morning excursion ahead, we decided to call it a night. Back at the hotel, we showered off the city’s energy and climbed into bed.
The Next Morning
“Good morning, Arli! Time to wake up!”
A new adventure awaited. Given our love for history and culture, we had something special planned for the day—a visit to the legendary Cu Chi Tunnels.
Just an hour outside of Ho Chi Minh City, these tunnels formed an underground world spanning more than 250 kilometers, playing a crucial role during the Vietnam War. More than just escape routes, they were full-fledged hidden cities, complete with living quarters, makeshift hospitals, kitchens, weapon caches, and supply routes. North Vietnamese soldiers, also known as the Viet Cong, lived down there for months at a time, enduring harsh conditions while using brilliant guerrilla war tactics to outmaneuver their enemies.
To make the most of the experience, we booked a tour with a local Vietnamese guide—and it turned out to be the best decision. He was one of the most engaging storytellers I’ve ever met, brimming with knowledge about Vietnamese history and the war. As we drove to the tunnels, he shared stories that painted a vivid picture of the past.
Leaving the city behind, the towering skyscrapers gave way to lush rice fields and simple wooden houses. The further we drove, the quieter and more peaceful it became—a stark contrast to the bustling streets of Ho Chi Minh City. The countryside felt untouched, almost frozen in time.
Finally, we arrived at the Cu Chi Tunnels. Our guide led us through the grounds, pointing out cleverly disguised tunnel entrances hidden beneath the forest floor. The Vietnamese had constructed a ventilation system, camouflaging air vents as termite mounds to avoid detection. It was fascinating to see just how meticulously the Viet Cong built and concealed this underground network, making it nearly impossible for American forces to locate them at first.
Going Underground
As we wandered deeper into the site, our guide stopped and pointed to what looked like nothing more than a pile of fallen leaves. Beneath them, he revealed a small wooden plank, barely noticeable against the forest floor. With a quick lift, a hidden tunnel entrance appeared—a passage once used by Viet Cong soldiers to navigate undetected.
The coolest part? He let Arli and I take turns lowering ourselves into the tunnel, just as they once did. The entrance was shockingly small, and the only way in was to sit with your legs inside first, then hop down into the darkness. As we descended, we had to raise our arms straight above our heads, gripping the plank to carefully seal the entrance behind us.
I lasted all of five seconds down there. It was pitch black, unbearably cramped, and filled with dust. Even in that brief moment, I could feel just how intense and claustrophobic it must have been to live and move through those tunnels. Emerging back into the sunlight, I had an entirely new appreciation for the resilience of those who once called these tunnels home.
Experiencing Life in the Tunnels
Onto the next part of our journey, we explored a series of lifelike soldier displays, offering a glimpse into what daily life must had been like for the Viet Cong. Nearby, we saw old army tanks, their metal bodies rusted with time, and even an entire room dedicated to booby traps.
Then, our guide presented us with a challenge: it was time to actually go deep into the tunnels. He warned us that it would be dark, tight, and extremely hot, but for those who couldn’t handle it, exits were available every 10 meters. The longest stretch was 60 meters, spanning three levels underground. Arli and I were determined to make it to the very end.
The moment we descended, we realized just how cramped and suffocating the tunnels were. We had to crouch low, knees bent, shuffling forward carefully. At first, there were about 20 people in our group. Along the way, we passed small open rooms that had once served as kitchens, hospitals, and storage spaces—it was incredible to witness history up close like that.
As we continued, people began dropping out one by one, some panicked by the darkness and the moments where we had to crawl on our stomachs to squeeze through. The heat was suffocating, and sweat dripped down our faces. My legs shook from exhaustion, and I even felt a wave of panic creeping in—until I finally saw the faint glow of sunlight again.
In the end, only five of us made it through the full 60 meters. As we emerged gasping for fresh air, we were overwhelmed with a mix of relief, adrenaline, and absolute respect for the soldiers who had survived in these tunnels for months. Crawling through them was nearly impossible—I couldn’t imagine running through them while carrying a rifle under enemy fire. It was an eye-opening experience; one we’d never forget.
The Tunnel Rats – One of the War’s Most Dangerous Jobs
For a bit more history—and something I found particularly fascinating—it took enemy forces nearly six to seven years to fully uncover the Cu Chi Tunnels. That is, until an American Sergeant First Class named Adam James stumbled upon a hidden entrance and bravely ventured inside. What he discovered was astonishing: an intricate, multi-level underground network that the Viet Cong had been using to move supplies, launch attacks, and evade detection.
Once the U.S. military realized just how vast and sophisticated these tunnels were, they needed soldiers to go inside and clear them out. This led to the formation of the Tunnel Rats—a specially trained group of U.S. and Australian soldiers tasked with navigating the tunnels, neutralizing Viet Cong fighters, dismantling booby traps, and gathering intelligence.
This was one of the most dangerous and terrifying jobs of the war. The tunnels were tight, dark and unbearably hot. Many were rigged with deadly traps and filled with enemy Vietnamese soldiers waiting to ambush intruders. Armed with only a pistol, flashlight, and knife, these soldiers had to rely on their instincts, quick reflexes, and sheer courage to survive.
Despite the U.S. military’s relentless efforts to destroy the tunnels—bombing campaigns, chemical defoliants, flooding attempts, and even releasing dogs to sniff out entrances—the tunnels remained one of the most effective defenses of the Viet Cong. The soldiers countered U.S. tactics with ingenious solutions, such as spreading American soap or chili powder to throw off the dogs and disguising tunnel entrances so well that they remained virtually undetectable for years.
In The End…
Visiting the Cu Chi Tunnels was an unforgettable experience that left us in awe of the ingenuity, and endurance, of those who once lived and fought within them. It was history brought to life—not just something we read about, but something we felt firsthand.
For anyone traveling to Vietnam, this is a must-see. Just be prepared—you may leave a little sweaty, a little dusty, but with a whole new perspective on history.
Back to Ho Chi Minh
We drove back into the city and got dropped off just a few minutes from our hostel. One of the coolest things about our hostel was its rooftop, where backpackers and travelers gathered every evening for drinks and conversation. It had a laid-back, social vibe, so we decided to check it out. Within minutes, we were swapping stories with people from all over the world.
About half an hour in, though, our stomachs started grumbling—loudly. We were starving. Since we were in Vietnam, it only made sense to go for a classic: the famous Banh Mi sandwich. Determined to try one of the best in the city, we walked about 30 minutes to a well-known spot. By the time we arrived, we were beyond hungry—more like hangry.
We both ordered the traditional Banh Mi, packed with different types of meat on a crispy baguette. Our expectations were high, but after just a few bites, we were… underwhelmed. Now, don’t get us wrong—we’re adventurous eaters and rarely picky, but this one just didn’t hit the spot for us. Maybe it was the specific place, maybe the flavors just weren’t our thing, but either way, we didn’t finish it.
Still craving something satisfying, we went back to what we knew was delicious—pho. We found another spot, and once again, that warm, flavorful broth did not disappoint. It was just as amazing as the night before!
After finishing our pho, we wandered back to the lively walking street near our hostel, in the mood for some drinks. We stumbled upon a tiny bar with outdoor seating that had the perfect view of the bustling street in front of us. The best part? Drinks were only $0.50 each—the cheapest we had found our entire trip!
We quickly hit it off with the woman running the bar, and before long, she was treating us like regulars. Sitting there, we watched the chaos of the street unfold like a real-life movie—except this one had no script, just pure, unfiltered entertainment. The mix of neon lights, street performers, motorbikes weaving through the crowds, and travelers letting loose made for an unforgettable scene. As the night went on, things only got wilder, which made it even more fun.
Eventually, we got the urge to dance, so we left our cozy little spot and hit the street, searching for the right club. We checked out a couple, but none felt quite right—until a local promoter caught our attention. He offered us a great table and a killer deal on drinks (not quite $0.50, but still only about $2 each). The place was dimly lit with deep red lights, and the music was absolutely blasting.
We started off chilling outside, but it wasn’t long before we made our way inside and hit the dance floor. The energy was electric. We were feeling social and somehow ended up befriending everyone in the club. Hours flew by in a blur of dancing, singing, and nonstop fun—until, out of nowhere, the music cut out and the entire club went pitch black.
For a second, there was silence. Then, in perfect unison, everyone turned on their phone flashlights—and just kept singing, completely a cappella, as if the party couldn’t be stopped. It was one of those surreal, movie-like moments we’ll never forget.
This was hands down the craziest night of our trip, and as much as we didn’t want it to end, we knew we had an early morning flight. Reluctantly, we decided to head back to our hostel. But, of course, the night wasn’t quite over yet.
As we walked in, we got a wild idea—why not end the night where it all started? The rooftop. It had already given us one amazing experience, so we climbed back up for one last moment to take it all in. Sitting there, chatting and reminiscing about everything that had happened, we felt like we were truly living in the moment.
Before we knew it, the dark sky started to shift. A soft glow crept over the city, and suddenly, it hit us—we had stayed up all night. Checking our phones, we were shocked to see it was already 5 AM. But honestly? We had no regrets.
Watching the sun rise over Ho Chi Minh City with my sister after such an unforgettable day and night was pure magic. The city slowly came to life beneath us—the hum of motorbikes, the chirping of birds, the soft chatter of early risers. We couldn’t stop laughing, taking pictures, and just soaking in the beauty of the moment. It was the kind of memory that stays with you forever, the kind that reminds you why you travel in the first place.
We knew we only had about three hours before we had to be up, and at this point, exhaustion was hitting hard. Dragging ourselves down from the rooftop, we crashed onto our beds—and the second our heads hit the pillows, we were out cold.
What felt like five minutes later, I was jolted awake by the sound of my alarm blaring in my ear. Groggy, disoriented, and questioning all of our life choices, I realized—it was time to head to the airport.
The airport was about an hour’s drive from our hostel, so we had to leave early to give ourselves plenty of time. Somehow—despite running on basically no sleep—we made it there in time, checked in, and waited for our flight.
Given the night we had, we were not feeling our best. All we wanted was food and water, so we wandered around the airport searching for something to revive us. That’s when we heard it.
The loudspeaker crackled to life, announcing our departure.
We froze. Then, we looked at each other in pure disbelief.
No way.
In an instant, we were sprinting through the terminal, our massive backpacks bouncing against us as we dodged through crowds. By the time we reached our gate, it was too late—the doors were already closed. I pleaded with the attendant, begging him to let us through, but he just shook his head. Against protocol. No exceptions.
Now, this never really happens to us—but, unfortunately, this time it did.
I felt a wave of disappointment. Not only had we let time slip away, but we had just missed our flight to Hanoi. I was slightly panicked about what to do next, but mostly, I was just kicking myself. This was definitely not part of the plan.
Not ready to accept defeat, I went straight to the supervisor to see what our options were. The next flight to Hanoi was that same day—but not until 10 PM. It was currently 10 AM.
Twelve. Hours. To. Kill.
The airport was hot, crowded, and there was no way we were staying there all day. We desperately needed rest, so I pulled out my phone and started searching for the closest hotel. Within minutes, I found one just five minutes away for only $20 a night—a total lifesaver.
Without hesitation, we grabbed our bags, hopped in a taxi, and made our way to the hotel. The second we stepped into the room, we saw the bed—and I swear, no bed had ever looked so good. We jumped in, shut the curtains, and were out within seconds.
Hours later, we woke up feeling somewhat better—though extremely hungry. Neither of us had the energy to go out in search of food, so we did the next best thing: Grab delivery. More pho, of course! Within minutes, two bowls of noodles, chicken, and rich broth arrived, and we happily slurped away, fully recharging for the rest of the journey.
By 8 PM, it was time to head back to the airport. This time, we arrived with plenty of time to spare.
This experience was a reminder that travel doesn’t always go as planned—but instead of stressing, we just went with the flow. In the end, everything worked out, and we were finally on our way to Hanoi.
The three-hour flight felt like a blur, and by the time we landed in Hanoi, it was late. Exhaustion was hitting us again, but we still had one more stretch to go—a 45-minute taxi ride to our hotel.
When we arrived, it was nearly 3 AM, yet the front desk attendant greeted us with the kindest smile. His warmth made the late-night check-in feel a little less rough.
We were only in Hanoi for one night because, in just a few hours, we had something really exciting planned—an overnight cruise through Ha Long Bay. We were getting picked up at 7 AM, meaning, as you’ve probably noticed by now, sleep was never really part of this trip. But honestly? Why sleep when you can experience life?
For this quick stop, we stayed in a female-only shared hostel, but it wasn’t your typical bunk bed setup. Each bed was more like a private pod—with a curtain, built-in charging cables, and even a small fan inside. It was exactly what we needed for a few short hours of sleep.
As we climbed into our pods, we couldn’t help but laugh. Once again, our alarms would be blaring before we knew it. But that was all part of the adventure—and what an adventure it was shaping up to be.
And that’s a wrap on this crazy story!
Ho Chi Minh City was a perfect blend of beauty and chaos—a city that kept us on our toes from start to finish. The Cu Chi Tunnels gave us a deep and powerful insight into Vietnam’s history, while the pho? Absolutely unreal. And of course, the nights out were nothing short of spectacular.
Ho Chi Minh, you were a wild ride, and we already know—we’ll be back.
But the adventure doesn’t stop here! Stay tuned for our next journey: an overnight cruise through the magnificent Ha Long Bay—and plenty more unforgettable experiences to come.
Xoxo, Addi
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