ΔΓ LαΊ‘t
(and then gave me avocado ice cream)
Real talk from March 2024 · 7 days · ~$620 · infinite mistakes
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How I ended up in ΔΓ LαΊ‘t
Honestly? I only came 'cause Saigon was trying to kill me. March in Ho Chi Minh City is like living inside a warm, wet mouth. I was staying in a rooftop hostel in District 1, no AC, just a fan that moved hot air around. My friend Mai – she's Vietnamese-Australian, we met on a street food tour – looked at me sweating into my phα» and said, “Dude, go to ΔΓ LαΊ‘t. It's, like, actually cold.” I thought she was messing with me. Vietnam? Cold? I'd been in the country for two weeks and had already accepted eternal swamp-ass.
But then she showed me her phone: 17°C. I booked a sleeper bus that night. 11 bucks. What did I have to lose?
First breath of ΔΓ LαΊ‘t air: pine trees. Not the city smell I expected – no exhaust, no fish sauce, no humidity. Just cold, clean air that smelled like someone crushed a bunch of pine needles and eucalyptus together. And mist. So much mist. It was like the whole city was wrapped in a wet blanket made of fog. I loved it immediately. My flip-flops slapped against the wet pavement, and this stray dog – I called him XoΓ i – walked with me for three blocks. I took it as a sign.
I hadn't booked accommodation. I figured I'd find something. I didn't. Everything near the bus station was full (apparently March is “wedding season” in ΔΓ LαΊ‘t? who knew). I walked around for an hour, freezing, with XoΓ i following me. Finally a lady selling grilled corn saw my pathetic face, pointed at her phone: “NhΓ nghα»? 500m.” She drew a map on a napkin. I found a little homestay on a dead-end alley off HαΊ»m 54 Phan ΔΓ¬nh PhΓΉng. They had a room. $18. I collapsed.
The neighborhoods: real talk
❤️ ABSOLUTE FAVORITE: THE ALLEYS OFF PHAN ΔΓNH PHΓNG. Look, ΔΓ LαΊ‘t's “center” is fine – HΓ²a BΓ¬nh square, the market, all that. But the real city lives in the hundred of tiny, winding hαΊ»ms that crawl up the hillsides like veins. I stayed on HαΊ»m 56, and every morning I'd walk down this mossy staircase between houses, past gardens full of hydrangeas and coffee plants, and end up at a bΓ‘nh mΓ¬ cart run by a woman who remembered my order after two days. At 8am the fog still hangs low, and the smell of damp earth and woodsmoke is EVERYWHERE. At 8pm it's darker, quieter – you hear families watching TV through open windows, someone practicing piano, the clatter of a bΓΊn riΓͺu stall being set up. I walked those alleys for hours. Never got lost the same way twice.
ΔΖ°α»ng 3 ThΓ‘ng 2 – This is the main artery, and honestly, it's a mess. Motorbikes, tour buses, and a million identical cafes selling “Dalat milk coffee” for 50k. It's fine for getting from A to B, but don't linger.
Khu HΓ²a BΓ¬nh / Chợ ΔΓ LαΊ‘t – Chaotic day and night. At 8am it's all strawberries and artichokes and vendors shouting. At 8pm the night market takes over, and the whole area smells like grilled rice paper and cajeput oil. I have mixed feelings. It's fun, it's overwhelming, and it's where I got scammed (more later). But you kinda have to go.
Where the good coffee actually is: Not on the main streets. Follow the students. I found this place on HαΊ»m 18 HoΓ ng Diα»u – no sign, just a green metal door propped open with a sack of robusta beans. Inside, an old man roasts his own coffee over a charcoal stove. The smell is intoxicating – chocolate, tobacco, a little burnt sugar. He doesn't speak English, but he knows what you want. CΓ phΓͺ sα»―a ΔΓ‘, 12k. I sat there every afternoon and watched the mist roll in. He never asked my name. I never asked his.
Food That Made Me Emotional
π₯ BΓNH CΔN – CΓ΄ Ba, HαΊ»m 72 Phan ΔΓ¬nh PhΓΉng. I almost cried. Not hyperbole. These little egg-and-rice-flour mini pancakes are cooked in special clay molds over charcoal. CΓ΄ Ba has been making them for 41 years. She has one tooth left, and she uses it to smile at you while you eat. The bΓ‘nh cΔn come out with a runny quail egg on top, served with a bowl of green onion broth, grilled pork, and a mound of fresh herbs. You dip, you slurp, you make eye contact with the toothless lady, and suddenly you're thinking about your own grandmother. 30k for 4 pieces. I ate 12. She gave me a free iced lotus seed tea and patted my hand. “Con Δn giα»i quΓ‘.” You eat so well, child. I carried that phrase with me all week.
BΓNH Ζ―α»T LΓNG GΓ – 16 BΓΉi Thα» XuΓ’n. I'm not a huge offal person. But this place – they serve silky steamed rice paper rolls with a side of chicken innards stewed in ginger and fish sauce. I ordered it 'cause the lady next to me, a tiny grandma, was eating it with such focus. The broth is light but intensely savory, and you wrap the chicken heart/liver/gizzard in the bΓ‘nh Ζ°α»t with mint and lettuce. I was scared of the liver. I ate it. It was buttery and not at all irony. I went back three times.
The disappointing meal. I had heard about “Dalat pizza” – bΓ‘nh trΓ‘ng nΖ°α»ng, grilled rice paper with toppings. The night market is FULL of these stalls. I tried one from a lady who had a huge line (usually a good sign). Mine came out burnt on the edges, soggy in the middle, with a quail egg that was somehow both raw and rubbery. 30k. I should have gone to the stall without the line. Lesson: crowds don't always mean quality.
Hangover cure? I don't drink much, but one night I shared a bottle of vang ΔΓ LαΊ‘t (local strawberry wine) with a German guy at my homestay. It's sweet, like alcoholic cough syrup. Next morning I was groggy. A woman at the market sold me a hot glass of sα»―a ΔαΊu nΓ nh nΓ³ng – fresh soy milk, slightly sweet, with a floating disk of chewy tΓ o phα» (soft tofu). 8k. I sipped it on a plastic stool while the fog burned off. Revived.
Street food that scared then delighted me: α»c nhα»i thα»t – snail stuffed with minced pork and lemongrass. I saw a cart on HαΊ»m 112 Nguyα» n CΓ΄ng Trα»© and thought, okay, today's the day. The woman saw me hesitate and said, “KhΓ΄ng sợ, ngon lαΊ―m.” Don't be scared, it's delicious. She grilled them on a tiny charcoal brazier, then served them with a bowl of chili-lime salt. The snail texture is chewy, but the pork filling is savory and fragrant. I ate six. 40k. I felt invincible.
π° Expensive mistake: I bought a jar of artichoke tea from a shop in the market that looked “premium.” The salesgirl was very persuasive. 280k. The next day I saw the exact same jar at a supermarket on Phan ΔΓ¬nh PhΓΉng for 135k. Everything's gone up, but that was just dumb tourist tax. The tea was fine. Not 280k fine.
Tourist Stuff vs. What Actually Ruled
Crazy House (HαΊ±ng Nga Villa) – Okay, I'll admit: I kinda liked it? It's absurd, overcrowded, and entry is now 60k (used to be cheaper, I hear). But the architecture is genuinely weird and fun. I went at 8am right when it opened, had the place almost to myself for 20 minutes. The light at 8:15am hits the organic shapes in this surreal way. If you go at 10am with the crowds, you'll hate it. So: early, or skip.
Datanla Waterfall – It's fine, I guess, if you like waiting in line for an alpine coaster. The waterfall itself is pretty but heavily commercialized. The “new” waterfall they discovered? Meh. What my barista recommended instead: ThΓ‘c Pongour. It's an hour south by motorbike, no tourist infrastructure, just a massive, wide cascade where locals picnic and swim. I went on a Wednesday afternoon and had the whole place to myself. The water is cold and brownish (tannins from leaves), but swimming under the falls felt like a baptism. No entry fee? Actually, there's a small donation box. I gave 20k.
Linh Phuoc Pagoda – This one surprised me. It's made entirely of broken glass and pottery shards. Sounds kitschy, and it is, but it's also breathtaking. The dragon made of 12,000 beer bottles. The 49-meter-long mosaic of Buddha's life. I went at 4:30pm, and the low sun lit up the glass like a kaleidoscope. Not crowded. No one trying to sell me anything. Just me, a few monks, and a thousand glinting shards.
The thing I found by accident: I was trying to find the “Railway Station” (which is lovely, by the way, go at 4pm). On the way, I took a wrong turn and ended up on a dirt road behind the station. There was a small, abandoned locomotive half-buried in weeds. A man was selling coffee from a cart next to it. I asked him about the train. He said, “Mα»Ή nΓ©m bom.” American bombing. That's all. I drank my coffee sitting on the tracks, looking at the twisted metal, the wildflowers growing through it. That beat any museum.
Getting Around: What Google Maps Won't Tell You
Motorbike rental – I rented from a guy on HαΊ»m 92. 120k/day. The bike was a beat-up Honda Wave with 80,000km on it. The brakes were more of a suggestion. On day 2, I was going downhill on ΔΖ°α»ng Δinh TiΓͺn HoΓ ng, hit a wet manhole cover, and skidded sideways. I didn't fall, but my heart did. Later, a local told me: always test the brakes BEFORE you leave. Also, avoid driving in ΔΓ LαΊ‘t at night if it's been raining – the roads get slick and the street lights are sporadic.
The bus system – I tried. I really did. There's a yellow bus (#4) that supposedly goes to ThΓ‘c Pongour. I waited 40 minutes at a stop. Three buses passed, all with different numbers. I asked a vendor, she said something like “Δi xe Γ΄m, nhanh hΖ‘n.” Faster to take a motorbike taxi. So I did. 150k one way. Not terrible. But the public bus? I never cracked that code.
Walking – Actually underrated. ΔΓ LαΊ‘t is hilly, but the alleys are made for wandering. I walked from my homestay to the train station – 3.5km – and discovered a dozen things I'd never have seen from a bike. Also, you burn off all those bΓ‘nh cΔn calories.
Local hack figured out day 4: Grab Bike is the cheapest and fastest way to get around the center. 15k-25k per trip. The drivers know shortcuts that Google Maps doesn't even show. Plus you don't have to find parking. I used it almost every day after the parking scam.
Where I Stayed: The Good, Bad, and Weird
NhΓ Nghα» Hα»ng PhΓΊc, HαΊ»m 56 Phan ΔΓ¬nh PhΓΉng. $18/night via Agoda. The photos showed a clean room with a window. What they didn't show: the persistent smell of dampness (it's ΔΓ LαΊ‘t, everything is damp), the family altar directly outside my door with incense burning 24/7, and the bathroom light that required a specific jiggle of the pull cord to turn on.
πΏ THE SHOWER – Actually had hot water! Real, proper hot water. Pressure was okay. But the shower head was positioned such that you had to hold it with one hand while scrubbing with the other. I felt like I was in a car wash.
π THE NOISE – Not motorbikes. Not even the roosters (yes, there were roosters). The WORST was the family's dog, BΓ΄ng. Sweet little mutt, but she barked at EVERY passing scooter from 5am to 10pm. I bought earplugs on day 2. Still, I miss her stupid bark now.
πΏ THE AMAZING THING – The back garden. It wasn't in the photos. A tiny, wild patch of hydrangeas, coffee shrubs, and a single persimmon tree. There was a rusty metal table and two chairs. I had my morning coffee there every day, watching the fog lift off the hills. The host, Ms. LiΓͺn, sometimes joined me and practiced her English. She told me about her daughter in Saigon. She called me “con trai” even though I'm not her son. It was the best part of my stay.
Price paid: $126 for 7 nights. Worth it? Absolutely. Even with the damp smell and the barking dog. I'd stay there again in a heartbeat.
The Thing That Surprised Me
I expected ΔΓ LαΊ‘t to be ... cuter, I guess? Like a hill station theme park. And it is, in parts. But what surprised me was how it still feels like a working city, not just a tourist playground. People live here. They go to work, they shop for vegetables, they argue about parking. The pine trees aren't just scenery; they're part of the economy – timber, resin, tourism sure, but also the smell of sawdust from a workshop on HαΊ»m 23, the trucks loaded with logs on the road to BαΊ£o Lα»c.
What really got me: the students. ΔΓ LαΊ‘t has several universities, and at 5pm, the sidewalks fill with young people in ao dai and white shirts, holding books, eating bΓ‘nh trΓ‘ng nΖ°α»ng, laughing. It's not staged. It's just life. I sat on a low wall near the Pedagogical College one evening and watched them. No one tried to sell me anything. No one stared. I was just another person watching the fog roll in.
And the coffee. I knew Vietnam loved coffee, but ΔΓ LαΊ‘t is different. It's not just a drink; it's the city's circulatory system. Every alley has a coffee cart, every home roasts its own beans, every conversation happens over a phin filter. I thought I liked coffee before. ΔΓ LαΊ‘t taught me I knew nothing.
One more thing: the light. At 4:30pm, when the sun breaks through the clouds, it's this liquid gold that turns everything – the mossy walls, the rusty roofs, the wet pavement – into something sacred. I saw it on my last day and almost missed my bus because I couldn't stop staring.
Money: What I Actually Spent
I tracked every single Δα»ng because I'm neurotic. Here's the unfiltered breakdown – all the stupid expenses, all the wins.
π° Savings tip: Coffee at the market is 20-30k. Coffee at a student cart in an alley is 8-12k. Same beans, better view. Follow the cheap plastic stools.
Mistakes I Made So You Don't Have To
- I packed for summer in Saigon and forgot ΔΓ LαΊ‘t is basically autumn. I spent my first day shivering in a neon-orange overpriced hoodie. Pack layers: a fleece, a windbreaker, jeans. Even in March, nights drop to 13°C. I saw a guy wearing a wool beanie and a puffer vest. I envied him.
- I assumed all tour agencies are the same. Booked a canyoning tour from a random shop near the market. Paid 950k. Later I met a couple who booked directly with the operator for 650k. I literally threw money away. Ask around, check with your homestay, don't be lazy like me.
- Rented a motorbike without checking the brakes or tires. Almost ended up in a drainage ditch. Always test the bike before you hand over cash. If the brake lever goes all the way to the handlebar, WALK AWAY.
- I didn't bring a reusable water bottle. ΔΓ LαΊ‘t has drinking water refill stations (nΖ°α»c sαΊ‘ch) all over for 2k/liter. I bought 10 plastic bottles before I realized. Stupid, guilty.
- I tried to do Datanla and Pongour in one day. They're in opposite directions. I spent 3 hours on the road, exhausted, and enjoyed neither. Pick one, take your time.
How It Actually Went: Day by Day
Saturday – Arrival: 5am bus, shivered, overpaid for hoodie, found homestay, slept 3 hours. Ate bΓ‘nh cΔn at CΓ΄ Ba's and cried a little. Walked around Hα» XuΓ’n HΖ°Ζ‘ng, foggy and romantic. Went to bed at 8pm.
Sunday – Markets and mishaps: Meant to go to the Valley of Love (thankfully I overslept). Instead, wandered into Chợ ΔΓ LαΊ‘t, bought fruit, got lost in the flower section – so many calla lilies. Afternoon: attempted bus to ThΓ‘c Pongour, failed, took Grab. Spent 2 hours at the waterfall, swam, felt like a new person. Evening: avocado ice cream from Mrs. ΔΓ o. BΓ΄ng barked at me when I got home. I gave her my leftover bΓ‘nh trΓ‘ng. She accepted.
Monday – Motorbike day near-death: Rented bike, went to Linh Phuoc Pagoda. Stunning. On the way back, almost wiped out on wet road. Shaken, parked bike, walked around the French Quarter. Overpriced croissant. Regret. Ate α»c nhα»i thα»t from a cart – regained faith in humanity.
Tuesday – Canyoning (overpaid but worth): Picked up at 8am, drove to the canyon, rappelled down a waterfall. Terrifying, exhilarating. Water was freezing. I screamed the whole time. Guide laughed at me. Lunch included. Made friends with a couple from Finland. They also overpaid. We bonded.
Wednesday – Coffee farm accident: Woke up late, plan was Datanla. Instead, got on wrong bus, ended up at CαΊ§u ΔαΊ₯t farm. Mr. HΓΉng gave me a tour, taught me about robusta vs arabica. Bought beans. Missed waterfall. Zero regrets.
Thursday – Lazy day: Rainy. Sat in the garden with Ms. LiΓͺn, drank her homemade mΖ‘ (apricot) liquor. She showed me photos of her daughter's wedding. I showed her photos of my cat. She said “mΓ¨o ΔαΊΉp.” I felt seen. Afternoon: caught up on postcards at the green-door coffee shop.
Friday – Last full day: Visited the train station at golden hour (4pm). Beautiful art deco, a bit faded. Rode the tourist train to TrαΊ‘i MΓ‘t – kinda silly, but the vegetable gardens were nice. Evening: final bΓ‘nh cΔn at CΓ΄ Ba's. She remembered me. “Con lαΊ‘i ΔαΊΏn.” You came back. I almost cried again.
Saturday – Departure: Early bus to Saigon. Ms. LiΓͺn packed me a banana, a bottle of water, and a small bag of dried persimmon. “QuΓ cho con.” Gift for you. BΓ΄ng didn't bark; she just watched me roll my suitcase down the alley. I'm not crying, you're crying.
Practical Stuff (Without the Boring Lists)
Almost-scam at the market: A woman approached me, “You want buy gift? I show you special shop, only for local.” She led me to a stall, started pushing high-priced tea and dried fruit. I remembered a blog: they get commission. I said “em khΓ΄ng mua ΔΓ’u” and walked. She followed me for 30 seconds, then gave up. Just say no, don't engage.
Health thing that went wrong: The altitude. ΔΓ LαΊ‘t is 1,500m. I had a mild headache for two days and didn't connect it. Nothing serious, but if you're sensitive, take it easy the first day. And drink water – I didn't, 'cause it was cold, but you still need it.
Song that was everywhere: “Waiting For You” by MONO. I heard it in coffee shops, in a taxi, even at the waterfall (some kid's Bluetooth speaker). It's catchy. Now it's my ΔΓ LαΊ‘t theme song.
What I wish I'd packed: A compact umbrella. It drizzles randomly. Also, a power bank – my phone battery drained faster in the cold. And maybe a small flashlight; the alleys can get PITCH BLACK at night.
Inside joke with Ms. LiΓͺn: On my last day, she asked, “Con cΓ³ thΓch ΔΓ LαΊ‘t khΓ΄ng?” Do you like ΔΓ LαΊ‘t? I said, “ThΓch quΓ‘, con α» lαΊ‘i luΓ΄n Δược khΓ΄ng?” Like it so much, can I stay forever? She laughed and said, “LαΊ₯y vợ ΔΓ LαΊ‘t Δi.” Marry a ΔΓ LαΊ‘t wife. We both knew I wouldn't, but it was nice to pretend.
Anyway. I didn't plan to write 8,000 words. But ΔΓ LαΊ‘t got under my skin like pine resin – sticky, fragrant, impossible to wash off. I think about it when I'm stuck in traffic, when I'm drinking mediocre coffee, when the weather is too hot or too cold. It was never the destination I dreamed about, but it's the one I keep revisiting in my head.
Also, I still have half a kilo of Mr. HΓΉng's robusta. It's almost gone. I don't know what I'll do when it runs out. Maybe go back.
Still have questions? Wanna argue about bΓ‘nh cΔn?
Drop a comment – I read every single one. Even if you just want the exact coordinates of Mrs. ΔΓ o's avocado ice cream. I got you.
Last updated: March 2024 · prices are probably higher now · sorry in advance
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