A Taste of Vietnam: Vivid, Visceral, Vanguard

Indagare senior editor Elizabeth Harvey is just back from scouting Vietnam from north to south with trip designer Paxton Zweifel and travel specialists Will Nixon and Zach Weirich. Below, she shares highlights and advice from their experience—including why Vietnam should be at the top of your travel wish list.

When I learned that I would be traveling to Vietnam for a scouting assignment, the first two things that came to mind were food and war. Visions of lush rice paddies, vintage trains, turquoise coastlines, incensed temples, cherry-red silks, neon-lit alleys and nimble motorbikes soon followed, as I began studying the itinerary and daydreaming of disembarking halfway across the world. But the legacy of the war loomed undeniably over the trip, despite the fact that it took place before I was born. So too (though more joyfully) loomed the promise of pho, banh mi, bun cha, spring rolls and spices like lemongrass, basil and chili. The two are in many ways inseparable for the American understanding of Vietnam. Vietnamese cuisine only became popular in the U.S. after the war concluded, with the influx of refugees that it brought. (Of course, Anthony Bourdain also did his fair share to promote it, alongside Barack Obama, who joined him for a meal in Hanoi—and made great strides toward improving U.S.-Vietnam relations—during his presidential visit in 2016.) What and how we eat is inherently political, and adversaries tend to discover common ground at the shared table. Food and war are essential elements of a trip to Vietnam—but they’re not the only ones. And a taste will never be enough.

Why Go Now…

Vietnam is a predominantly young country—70 percent of the population is under the age of 54, and in Ho Chi Minh City alone the median age is 29—and, as such, it is rapidly changing and growing. Check the labels on your clothing and you will find that much of it was manufactured in Vietnam—along with many of our essential electronics and machinery. Industry in Vietnam is flourishing, from public transportation projects to luxury hotel openings, and it's fostering fierce national pride—so much so that the diaspora is returning. In fact, the term “Viet Q” refers to the children of the refugee generation—who were born, raised and educated abroad—who are now choosing to move back to Vietnam on a part- or full-time basis to take part in shaping the country’s future. Most of them are starting businesses, many of which will appeal to travelers—like Lady Trieu Gin, a female-run distillery founded in 2023 outside Ho Chi Minh City. The brand pays homage to an ancient Vietnamese warrior-ess and folk heroine—and I very much enjoyed sampling it in a botanical G&T (or two) during my stay. “Vietnam has been shy to ‘strut its stuff’,” explained one of our local guides. “We were under the oppression of foreign powers for so long—first the Chinese, then the French, the Japanese, the Americans. Now we can reclaim our history and not be victims.” Traveling to Vietnam today offers the opportunity to witness a country at a pivotal moment of transformation—while also catching a last glimpse of an earlier time.

There is also a certain timeliness pressing upon those travelers who do wish to see Vietnam through the lens of the war—whether they personally lived through it or they seek a deeper understanding of it across generations. By chance, we landed in Hanoi on May 1, the day after the 50th anniversary of the end of the Vietnam War and the beginning of a nation-wide celebration. For veterans, and their families, now is the time to seek catharsis or reconciliation, if it’s desired. It is likely that any traveler to Vietnam will hear a story—or several—of former enemies recognizing and embracing one another, decades later, on the ground. In Hanoi, our local partners introduced us to Mr. Nguyen Hong My, a celebrated pilot who was the first to shoot down an American fighter jet in 1972. Going into the meeting, which was hosted in Mr. My’s home, I felt strangely conflicted—some DNA-deep vestige of tribalism, perhaps. But Mr. My was eager to welcome us into his world, passing around old family photos and showing off his grandson when he burst through the front door unexpectedly, returning home from school. He shared the story of his profound and unlikely friendship forged 30 years after the war with Brigadier General E. Daniel Cherry, a career fighter pilot in the U.S. Air Force who had shot down Mr. My, in turn, later in 1972. (Both men are now in their late 80s.) When I asked Mr. My what he hopes American visitors to Vietnam today will take away from their experience, he answered, through a translator, “The war is over; the war is in the past. I hope that people who come here leave that behind. That is why we have eyes in the front of our head—to look forward, not back.”

Thus far, no veteran of the war that I have encountered, Vietnamese or American, has expressed a desire to hang on to grudges at the cost of peace and progress. It was an immense privilege to run my fingers over the scars of conflict and learn how they healed from the people who bear them.

4 Tips to Know…

Arrive with your bearings.

It’s best to travel through Vietnam from north to south, flying into the capital, Hanoi, and departing through Ho Chi Minh City. Hanoi is often referred to as the “Paris of Asia,” thanks to its French Colonial terraces, leafy boulevards, varied districts and deep cultural heritage. Ho Chi Minh City—better known by its historic name, Saigon—is today the financial center of the country. Formerly, it was the capital of colonial French Indochina and of the Vietnamese republic backed by the U.S. during the war.

Our guide described the difference between Vietnam’s northern and southern hearts—once two warring capitals—as such: “Hanoi is an old man, and Ho Chi Minh is a young kid.” Ask any local to elaborate on this comparison, and you will receive detailed explanations of their culinary distinctions, unique cultural habits and aesthetic advantages (usually, with a playful yet resolute opinion as to the superior nature of one or the other).

Be open to the nuances of visiting a communist country.

Vietnam officially became communist after the end of the war and the unification of North and South in 1975. Expect to see the hammer and sickle around, alongside portraits of Ho Chi Minh, the leader of the Vietnamese nationalist movement and the first president of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam. (Widely venerated by the Vietnamese and foreigners alike, his legacy is comparable to George Washington’s in the United States.) Today, locals will describe Vietnam as having “CapCom” politics—a capitalist economy that is run by the communists. Censorship does happen, and travelers should take care not to put their guides in an uncomfortable position by asking polemical questions, particularly in public spaces and without first establishing a level of rapport. You should expect that you may not receive a direct answer if you ask about more sensitive topics, especially in the north. (In the words of one of our hosts, “For a place that seems chaotic, there is a lot of regulation.”) I recommend that American travelers approach these cultural differences with a mindset of curiosity and look for the many fascinating paradoxes of life in modern Vietnam—where a statue of Ho Chi Minh may front a promenade of Gucci and Chanel flagships, and (technically illegal) street markets thrive.

Sharpen up your street smarts.

Speaking of streets—it’s essential to have quick feet, good shoes and a level head when moving around Vietnam, especially in the major cities. Motorbike culture is core to the country’s DNA, and the rhythms and rules of scooter traffic will confound even the savviest New Yorkers. (Equally confounding is what is toted on the backs of these scooters, from babies and kittens to potted palm plants and washing machines.) To avoid any collisions, especially when crossing the street—traffic lights are more of a suggestion—I was advised to always walk steadily and confidently in a forward direction. Do not make sudden movements, hesitate or backtrack. (I was told, “No frogger.”) Trust the process and have faith that the bikes will flow around you (they will). Comfortable, breathable footwear with closed toes and thick soles—particularly for wet market visits—are key.

Sip and savor like the locals.

There are two beverages that are integral to Vietnamese culture: coffee and beer. Travelers will notice an abundance of both charming cafés and rustic roadside watering holes—unmistakeable with their brightly colored plastic stools and low street tables—which make up the fabric of daily life. Vietnamese coffee is infamously strong, sweet and caffeinated, while Vietnamese draught beer—known as bia hoi—is notoriously drinkable, fresh and low-ABV. Coffee breaks can be taken just about any time of day, while happy hour tends to commence around 4:00 p.m.; both are important moments for bà tám, or gossip. While bia hoi is quite uniform—it’s cheap, brewed daily and served in a specific sea-green recycled glass—coffee brewing can be considered an art form. In addition to the traditional iced recipe (mixed with condensed milk to cut the bitterness), travelers should not leave the country without sampling the egg, coconut and salted varieties. (Just be sure to drink plenty of water to offset the ups and downs, particularly when it’s hot out.)

I Discovered That…

Vietnam is a cultural, religious and political melting pot that is hard to wrap your mind around. (It was among Anthony Bourdain’s most favorite places, and he described it as such: “It grabs you and doesn’t let go.”) For better or for worse, Vietnam’s foreign aggressors left their marks on the land. There are Chinese traces in the language and spirituality (like ancestor worship); the capital’s signature yellow-and-green mansions that photograph so well are quite reminiscent of the South of France; Brutalist, Soviet-style cathedrals bearing neon-red crosses appear to have been lifted out of the Berlin underground (or a Lady Gaga music video). Here, Catholics coexist with Buddhists, while everyone follows the zodiac calendar. Morning glory and Thai basil share garden beds with Sichuan peppercorn and ginseng. Pizza is even becoming popular (though Italians might not recognize it as such). The only thing that seems to be a hard and fast rule in Vietnam is that independence trumps ideology. Perhaps that is why, when the American statesman and war hero John McCain died in 2018, Hanoians laid flowers at Truc Bach Lake, where he was fatefully captured in 1967.

I Didn’t Expect That…

I was not prepared for the emotional response that touring the War Remnants Museum on our last day in Saigon triggered. I had learned about the Vietnam War in school; I had memorized facts and taken tests on the tiger cages, the Hanoi Hilton, napalm bombs and Agent Orange. That didn’t lessen the pain of confronting in situ the violence that humankind can inflict upon itself. It was thought-provoking to revisit the history through texts written by the so-called “other side,” and I highly recommend making time for the second-floor exhibition “Requiem,” which displays the work of journalists and photographers who perished while covering the conflict. I was also moved by the ground-floor space that chronicles the peace movements across nations that the war provoked.

A Favorite Moment…

You have not experienced Vietnam until you have seen it from a motorbike. Indagare can arrange immersive—and safe—jaunts with locals around the country. We took Friday night in Saigon by storm with an epic—certainly Bourdain-worthy—eating and driving tour, with stops at outdoor dives down hidden alleys serving yellow-spotted snails bubbling in thick corn stews, skewered shrimp spitting in pans of garlic oil, clams simmering in pots of fragrant lemon-chili steam and juicy roasted chicken legs topped with generous fistfuls of fresh onions and herbs. Along the way, our host Khoa plied us with ice-cold Saigon beers conjured from an insulated pack and mixed Lady Trieu and lime sodas for the road (our on-the-ground partners think of everything). I would normally hesitate to hop on the back of a scooter headed for the highway after three gin-tonics, but my driver—a five-foot-tall mother of three sporting skinny jeans and red kitten heels—seemed to know what she was doing. (I also had a helmet.) Exchanging jokes against the wind, whirling around intersections in the flow of fellow riders, taking a sharp turn in search of something delicious, grabbing a seat under bare bulbs on a balmy night and passing hot plates around a crowded table—it’s an experience you simply cannot have anywhere else.