Last year, I was lucky enough to visit Vietnam twice in quick succession, first in August and then again in November.

I’ve already written a slew of narrative-driven stories: the destinations, the highlights, the people who make the country so enchanting. Think vintage shopping in Hanoi, meeting a Buddhist monk in Yen Tu, jumping off the side of a luxury boat in Halong Bay and exploring an abandoned water park outside Hue.

This is everything else. The in-between details, the small surprises, the things I only really understood the second time around. I fell in love with Vietnam, but I also learned a few things the hard way. This is where they live.

Welcome to queue chaos

If you’re flying into Vietnam from Perth, it’s worth knowing upfront that getting to your final destination isn’t necessarily a straight shot. When people plan their itineraries, they usually use one of the two major hubs — Ho Chi Minh City in the south or Hanoi in the north — as their starting point, and then venture onward to other regions. However, there is a noticeable difference in how easy it is to reach each city.

On my second trip, I was shocked to learn there are no direct flights between Perth and Hanoi, despite how many West Australians visit the capital each year. While travellers departing Sydney or Melbourne can opt to fly direct, those coming from Perth have no choice but to transit through the chronically congested Tan Son Nhat International Airport in HCMC.

The horror stories from travel forums, with talk of endless lines and missed connections, are no exaggeration, as I experienced on my route to Hanoi. Upon landing at Tan Son Nhat, I queued for more than an hour to go through immigration before collecting my bags. I then had to make my way between the international and domestic terminals, guided by confusingly vague signage, only to join more queues for check-in and security. In total, I spent about three hours standing in line — a painful and frustrating experience.

I remember thinking at the time: if I am struggling this much as an able-bodied, fairly young person, what about those with mobility or health issues? There was no special line for seniors or families (though I have since heard of fast-track services you can book online for a fee). After leaving home for Perth Airport around 8am, I didn’t arrive at my hotel in Hanoi until 11pm. A very long day.

From what I’ve read, the wait time I experienced is fairly standard for Tan Son Nhat. Some travellers sidestep this entirely, choosing to connect to Hanoi via Singapore or Bangkok for a more streamlined (but potentially more expensive) journey. Pressure is expected to ease when Long Thanh International Airport, slated to be Vietnam’s biggest, opens in HCMC later this year. Otherwise, I’d say this: leave four hours between connecting flights, dress in comfy clothes, and stock up on water and snacks to help you stay upright. And don’t let this deter you from Hanoi — it’s an absolutely fantastic place.

Xin chao!

Upon landing in Vietnam, you’ll hear it almost immediately: xin chao. It means hello, and it’s roughly pronounced “sin chow”. It’s the kind of phrase that follows you throughout your trip — a warm greeting from gardeners at the hotel, called out from shopfronts, offered with a smile in passing — and its cheery cadence formed the rhythm of my two visits.

You don’t need to learn much Vietnamese to get by, but I’d absolutely recommend practising saying “xin chao” before you arrive. Even a small effort to say it back is noticed and appreciated. Other helpful phrases to memorise are cam on (pronounced “gahm uhn”), meaning thank you, and xin loi (pronounced “sin loy”), meaning excuse me.

A lesson in weather

When venturing to Vietnam, it’s imperative to wrap your mind around how the weather works. The country stretches long and narrow over 1600km from north to south, which means conditions can vary dramatically depending on where you are and when you go.

On my first trip in August, I arrived in Hue, the former imperial capital in central Vietnam during a heatwave. I found it almost unbearably hot — the kind of relentless, scorching sun that shapes your entire day. Then in November I was in the north visiting the spiritual epicentre of Yen Tu, only for storms to roll in and cancel the signature cable car ride up the mountain.

There’s no single “best time” to visit Vietnam, only the best time for the places you plan to go. It’s worth checking regional weather patterns carefully, because the experience can differ wildly from one end of the country to the other.

As a general guide, the north (Hanoi, Halong Bay, Sapa, Ninh Binh and Yen Tu) is best in spring (March to April) and autumn (September to November), when temperatures are milder and skies are clearer. Central Vietnam (Hue, Da Nang and Hoi An) can be intensely hot through mid-year and is prone to storms and flooding from around September to November. The south (Ho Chi Minh City, Phu Quoc and the Mekong Delta) is warm year-round but sees heavy rains during the wet season (roughly May to October).

If you’re trying to cover multiple regions in one trip, shoulder months like March, April or October tend to offer the best balance — but even then, be prepared for Mother Nature to deliver a surprise.

Phu Quoc: it’s complicated

When Expedia revealed its list of trending travel destinations for 2026, the resort island of Phu Quoc beat many other heavy-hitters to score fourth place. Located off the southwest coast of Vietnam, a stone’s throw from Cambodia, Phu Quoc has experienced a tourism boom in recent years and has been spruiked as an alternative to tropical hotspots like Bali.

However, I left the island with very mixed feelings and would offer some words of warning to anyone booking a trip based on the hype alone.

First, the good: the hotel we stayed in, JW Marriott Phu Quoc Emerald Bay Resort & Spa, was one of the most outlandish and immersive places I’ve ever rested my head — a real-life tumble down the rabbit hole into Wonderland, courtesy of the imagination of legendary architect Bill Bensley. The resort sprawls along a palm tree-fringed stretch of Khem Beach, which has the sort of white sand and crystal waters from a dream sequence. It is worth visiting Phu Quoc to experience this property alone and the extensive facilities — multiple pools, restaurants, a day spa, kids club, water activities, daily yoga — mean you wouldn’t even need to venture outside its walls. It would be especially enticing for families chasing a luxury escape.

But. And there’s a big but. The rest of Phu Quoc felt like a giant construction zone. Operators eager to capitalise on the buzz have gone into overdrive, building endless apartments and shopfronts modelled off famous European cities. It reminded me of something between Las Vegas and Disneyland; the whole thing was very strange.

It made me uncomfortable to see the amount of pristine tropical land being cleared to make way for even more of these overly-stylised complexes, the majority of which appeared to be sitting vacant. And many social media users have also commented on parts of Phu Quoc seeming like a ghost town, devoid of any culture or sustainable practices.

My overall impression of Phu Quoc was that it was a missed opportunity for ecotourism. Why spoil such a naturally beautiful place?

Mango mania

It’s hard to leave Vietnam without a bag (or three) of dried mango. On my first visit, I had some cash to unload at the airport and grabbed a packet without knowing the party my tastebuds would soon experience. Chewier, sharper and far more flavourful than what I had tried back at home, the sugary snack hit that perfect sweet-tangy balance.

Much of Vietnam’s mango comes from the Mekong Delta in the south, which is often called the country’s “fruit basket” because of the sheer variety grown in its fertile soil. The mangoes are often harvested when they are slightly under-ripe to give the characteristic sour edge, then dried to preserve the flesh in the hot climate. You’ll see dried mango at pretty much every market and minimart you pass in Vietnam — it doesn’t take long before you develop a full-blown addiction, in my experience.

Cash, just in case

I wrote about my difficulty in finding an ATM in Hue last year (and how it turned into a grand adventure), but it is a topic worth revisiting. I mistakenly assumed it would be easy enough to obtain physical currency on the ground and therefore did not exchange any notes prior to departure. But then a whole day of sightseeing in the central Vietnamese city passed without a single cash machine spotted and I was in a bind. Luckily, I was able to use my phone to book a Grab scooter to take me to one about 10 minutes from the hotel (thanks to eSIM connectivity), and returned with a stack of dong.

Personally, I don’t love carrying around cash in my wallet and prefer to pay with a bank or travel card. And in Vietnam, cards are increasingly accepted — even at hole-in-the-wall banh mi shops. Still, it pays to have some real money on hand for tipping or market scores. You can always use any leftover notes to buy dried mango at the airport, after all.

Eat like a vegan

One of my biggest concerns before arriving in Vietnam was food. Travelling as a vegan can be unpredictable at the best of times, and I wasn’t sure how easy it would be to navigate menus or communicate dietary needs.

As it turns out, I needn’t have worried. Vietnam is surprisingly accommodating, with a strong culture of plant-based eating that is influenced by the country’s Buddhist traditions. Many restaurants offer dedicated vegetarian or vegan menus, and it’s not unusual to find entirely meat-free eateries tucked between street food stalls. I had no trouble finding suitable versions of local staples, from regional rice dishes to banh mi packed with tofu, pickled vegetables and herbs.

I never felt like I was missing out. If anything, it made me realise how straightforward eating with dietary requirements can be here. Gluten-free options are just as easy to come by, and the variety means you’re rarely stuck for choice. Pho-nomenal.

The art of crossing

When is the perfect time to cross the street in Vietnam? The truth is, there is no perfect time. Forget waiting for a flashing green man to signal go time, or even a zebra crossing to mark out the ideal place to cut through. Here, traffic moves in a constant stream, and waiting for a clear gap often isn’t an option. Standing on the curb and hoping for a break will usually just leave you there indefinitely.

So, what do you do? The approach is surprisingly simple, but it requires a bit of nerve. It’s all about confidence. You pick your moment, step out with your chest high and keep moving at a predictable pace. Trust the scores of motorbikes and scooters will adjust around you. It feels frightening from the outside, but there’s an unspoken rhythm to it.

What doesn’t work is stopping midway or darting unpredictably. Hesitation tends to confuse the flow, which is when things feel less controlled. Once you commit, it’s best to keep going. It might feel like a leap of faith the first few times, but it becomes easier surprisingly quickly.

By the end of my first trip, I found myself stepping into traffic with far more gusto than I would have thought possible, and by the second visit I was a pro and switching between sidewalks. It’s not about being reckless, but about understanding how the system works.

Ninh Binh vs Halong Bay

Whether you’re a first-time visitor to Vietnam or a regular, you’ll likely have to accept that you won’t get to see the whole country in one trip. So you’ll be faced with some tricky choices when refining your itinerary.

If one of those decisions is whether to prioritise Halong Bay or Ninh Binh, let me weigh in with my preference out of the two (if you have to choose). Both places are accessible from Hanoi, are UNESCO-listed and feature jaw-dropping scenery in the form of dramatic limestone karsts rising out of the water.

Halong Bay is often the default option for first-timers as it is much more famous, with travellers opting for a full-day or overnight cruise to meander between hundreds of jagged islands studded in the seascape. It is undeniably beautiful, but also heavily touristed. The pollution and boat crush can ruin the mood.

For a more serene alternative, Ninh Binh is my pick. Often described as “Halong Bay on land”, the province is only two hours from Hanoi and is well worth the detour for at least a night or two. Not only will you have the kind of scenery millions flock to Halong for, but there are also mazes of caves, historical pagodas, lush rice paddies, charming bed and breakfasts and a welcoming rural atmosphere.

I’ll never forget the one precious day we had in Ninh Binh, which began with a bike ride through the countryside (meeting dogs, ducks and a buffalo called Mia along the way) and progressed to a scenic row boat excursion on the river. The little wooden vessel cut through hidden channels and jungle-clad thoroughfares to show off a landscape so other-worldly it was used as the backdrop for 2017 blockbuster Kong: Skull Island.

I’ve been telling everyone who will listen not to skip Ninh Binh when they are in Vietnam, so of course I must tell you, too.