Brother/Sister Sojourners: A Journey for the Brothers in Vietnam

AS A PARENT OF With two sons, I grew up perhaps a little closer to my family’s Vietnamese heritage than my brother. First, when I was an only child, my parents — refugees from Vietnam who settled in Houston, Texas — spoke to me almost exclusively in their native language. It wasn’t until school, where being different meant being a target, that I switched to English. So by the time Don (yes, it’s Dan and Don) came along, I was resistant to anything Vietnamese, and the house he grew up in was decidedly more American.

To their credit, our parents not only introduced us to the language and food, but also to Vietnam itself, where we traveled almost every year. As we grew older, I lost the shame of being Vietnamese and developed a real sense of longing for Vietnam, as I had always felt somewhat out of place in America – even after moving to New York City, where I spent eleven years lived. Meanwhile, my brother was blossoming in Texas, donning cowboy boots and hats like a natural and growing into the all-American personality with ease.

And while we were both proud to be Vietnamese-American, I always knew I had a deeper connection to being Vietnamese – culturally, linguistically, and emotionally. Don stopped going to Vietnam regularly by the time he went to college, but I continued to go there regularly as an adult, making friends and building a community all my own.

I finally moved from New York to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) at the end of 2022. And after a few months in my new home, I wanted to show my brother the Vietnam I knew – not through the eyes of our parents, but through the perspective of a young, modern Saigonese. Despite having completely different interests, my brother and I have always bonded over a love of delicious food, beautiful hotels and a good old-fashioned adventure.

Having lived in different cities for 14 years, we saw this two-week trip in Vietnam not only as an opportunity to have fun, but also as a way to reconnect with each other and experience our ancestral home with our partners to share. . Our crew of four would start in the north before winding through the central region, eventually ending up in Saigon, where our parents were born.

DEPARTURE IN JUNEour first stop was Halong Bay, the UNESCO World Heritage Site near Hanoi, whose name literally means descent (ha) dragon (long). I hadn’t been there since 2012. As the only ethnic Vietnamese passengers aboard the luxury Peony Cruise ship, we timidly began building relationships with the staff, putting our language skills to the test. Over the three days I noticed my brother becoming more confident in his.

As we swam, kayaked, and soared among the sublime, towering, forest-covered landforms, I imagined our ancient ancestors traversing the same waters, long before the idea of ​​a nation. Then, during a stop on scenic Cat Ba Island, we encountered more recent history, tied to our own story: the island had served as a key strategic location during the Vietnam War. As we happily cycled through the quiet, lush hills, I imagined this place before it ever had: an alternate universe where my parents, like nearly two million others, had not been forced to flee their homeland like Vietnam. The war ended in 1975 and in its aftermath.

Three hours into Hanoi, Vietnam’s political capital, we became aware of our awkward accent: an Americanized version of 1970s twangy Saigonese that clashed with the city’s chic, lilting dialect. In Vietnam, the diaspora is known as Viet Kieu, meaning ‘residing Vietnamese’, but it was also once used perjoratively. In recent years, the label has been reclaimed as many Vietnamese from the diaspora ‘return’.

As we paraded down the city’s vibrant main artery to St. Joseph’s Cathedral, we reflected on the distant but sacred faith of our father’s devout Catholic family. We strolled the lively, youth-filled paths around Ho Hoan Kiem, or “Lake of the Returned Sword,” whose mythical inhabitant, a gigantic, extremely ancient turtle, is tattooed on my leg. In the evening we enjoyed Chanel No. 5-inspired cocktails in the lobby bar of the iconic Capella Hanoi, another of my favorite properties in the city.

A highlight of our visit to Hanoi? A bowl of noodle soup at my favorite pho shop in all of Vietnam: Pho Hang Trong – which is ‘hidden’ down a dark alley and up a flight of stairs in the living room of a Mrs. Minh, who has clearly served her-as-consommé pho in northern style for twenty years.

The next stop on our brothers’ journey in Vietnam was Danang, the modern, beachside “Miami of Vietnam,” and nearby Hoi An, whose walkable UNESCO-listed Old Town is one of the best preserved examples of a thriving port in Southeast Asia. city ​​from centuries ago. We zipped around the two cities on rented motorcycles – Don’s idea – and today I credit this trip for helping me overcome my fear and make the decision to buy a motorcycle of my own once I get home to Saigon.

WHILE DANANG IS INDEED famous for its beaches, our highlight here was our time at the nearby Son Tra Peninsula, a jungle national park home to several monkey species (including the endangered red-shanked douc), a 17-story statue of the Lady Buddha, and the stunning, fantastic Bill Bensley-designed InterContinental Danang Sun Peninsula Resort.

We also enjoyed a hike through Danang’s Marble Mountains, a cluster of limestone formations with dozens of small pagodas and caves. To access the temple complex we climbed 156 stone steps, built in 1630. Although we are not Buddhists, Don and I both grew up lighting incense and praying at an altar to honor our ancestors – and we did here also. It was not strictly religious, but rather an act of respect that connects us to our childhood and culture.

Meanwhile, a motorcycle joyride through the rice fields in Hoi An led us to an impromptu stop at a restaurant with basket boats: small, round bamboo vessels ideal for navigating narrow waterways. As our drivers took us through a maze of canals and taught us how to catch small crabs hiding in the mangroves, I chuckled at Don’s frustration at catching fewer crabs than me, knowing how competitive he is.

Back in town, we bought pearl necklaces and leather goods from local tailors like Yaly Couture, and enjoyed bowls full collective labor—Hoi An’s specialty of rice noodles, pork slices, herbs and crispy croutons in a savory broth. We ended our time in Central Vietnam with massages at Almanity Resort & Spa, known for its wellness experiences.

The next day, back at my home base in Saigon, it was time to relax and reward ourselves for a trip well spent: shopping at local streetwear complex 42 the Hood, coconut coffee from Cong Caphe, a vegetarian dinner at Hum and pastries . from the Park Hyatt bakery. To commemorate our adventure together, Don and I got matching motorcycle tattoos (sorry mom and dad, I don’t think you’ve seen these yet).

For our final evening, we headed to Anan Saigon – the city’s first Michelin-starred restaurant as of 2023 – and enjoyed chef Peter Cuong Franklin’s standout crab rice and Dalat-style pizzas. Then we headed to the rooftop bar, which seemed like a fitting way to end the trip: gazing up at the skyscrapers of bustling District One. Indeed, Vietnam has changed a lot since we were children, and so have we, but I hope we will always return here together.

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Images courtesy of Dan Q. Dao unless otherwise noted.