Why Everyone Is Talking About Vietnam in 2026
And Why Some Never Leave
There’s a moment most people remember. It’s not the airport, or the hotel check-in, or even the first landmark they visit. It’s usually something much smaller.
Sitting on a tiny plastic stool that feels like it belongs in a kindergarten classroom. Easier said than done after two TKRs Sweating just enough to realise this isn’t your usual climate. Holding a bowl of something you can’t pronounce but instantly love.
And somewhere between your first Vietnamese iced coconut coffee and your fifth which, for reasons unknown, happens within the same day as they really are addictive you start to feel it. Vietnamese coconut coffee is dangerously good. Sweet coconut cream blended with strong Vietnamese coffee somehow turns into the perfect tropical caffeine addiction. One is never enough.
Vietnam isn’t just a destination it’s an experience.
Not just that you’re on holiday. But that you’ve stepped into a completely different rhythm of life. Having spent extended periods of time throughout Southeast Asia places like Singapore, Bali, Jomtien and Chiang Mai and others .Vietnam still somehow feels different again.
Vietnam doesn’t ease you in gently. It doesn’t hand you a welcome brochure and suggest you take your time. It throws you straight into the deep end motorbikes, noise, colour, movement and quietly says Keep up. And somehow you do.
Why Vietnam Is Trending in 2026
There’s a reason Vietnam is everywhere right now in 2026. People are talking about it, writing about it, booking it. Flights are full, and conversations are shifting from Should we go to Why haven’t we have gone yet?
But what I’ve noticed both in my own experience and from countless conversations with other travellers is that people don’t come here because of statistics.
They come because they’re tired. Tired of expensive destinations. Tired of over-planned itineraries. Tired of holidays that feel a bit like work.
And if I’m being completely honest, many travellers are also looking for something that feels a little more authentic than some of the other Southeast Asian hotspots.
Places like Bali can sometimes feel overwhelmed by loud tourists treating the island more like a giant beach nightclub than a culture. Parts of Thailand sadly developed reputations built around nightlife, beer bars, and middle-aged men trying to relive their youth under fluorescent lights at midnight.
Vietnam feels different. It still feels like a country first and a tourist destination second.
Life here doesn’t seem staged for visitors. People are going to work, drinking morning coffee, exercising in the parks, picking up groceries, sitting on tiny plastic stools eating breakfast like they have for years whether tourists arrive or not.
And I think travellers are craving that now. Something a little less manufactured. Something a little more real.
Most journeys begin in Ho Chi Minh City, and if you want honesty it can feel like a lot.
The first time you try to cross the road, you’ll question your life choices. There’s a moment where you stand on the curb, watching a river of motorbikes flowing endlessly, thinking There is absolutely no way I’m getting across that. And then someone just walks. Slowly. Calmly. Without hesitation. And the traffic moves around them like water around a rock.
It’s at that exact moment you realise Vietnam operates on a different set of rules and once you understand them, everything becomes easier.
The same thing happens with the food. You might start cautiously. A bánh mì here, a bowl of pho there. But it doesn’t take long before you’re sitting on a street corner, pointing at something on a menu you can’t read, fully trusting that whatever arrives will be worth it. And it usually is.
I can still remember the first time a Vietnamese friend took me out for hotpot. The steaming broth arrives at the table and slowly starts bubbling away like a science experiment. Usually chicken or seafood I personally stick with the chicken version Then the ingredients just keep appearing. Basil, bean shoots, vegetables, bok choy, noodles and various things you politely nod at while secretly wondering what half of them are. The rice noodles go into your bowl first and then the now beautifully flavoured hotpot is ladled over the top. Absolutely delicious.
But as an Australian raised with proper table manners, I suddenly faced a problem I was entirely unprepared for. What exactly was I supposed to do with the chicken bones? Trying to be polite, I quietly asked my friend. He looked at me and burst out laughing.
“Just put them on the table… or throw them on the floor.”
The floor. As an Australian raised with proper table manners, the idea of intentionally putting bones on the table or floor felt completely illegal.
But the real shock came later.
My friend smiled and said, I left the best part in the pot because I didn’t think you were ready yet. I looked down into the broth and sitting there staring back at me were chicken feet. Complete with tiny toenails and everything.
To this day, I still cannot eat them no matter how many people insist they are delicious. Mentally I just cannot get past the fact they look like something that should be scratching around outside looking for worms not in my soup.
Mekong Delta Experience a Slower Side of Vietnam
Then, just when you feel like you’ve got a handle on things, Vietnam changes pace. Heading down into the Mekong Delta feels like someone has quietly turned the volume down on life.
Mornings begin before sunrise. The air feels softer. The movement is slower, but no less purposeful. Boats gather on the water, not in chaos, but in a kind of quiet choreography that has clearly been happening for generations.
There’s something unexpectedly grounding about sitting there, eating a simple bowl of pho handed to you from another boat, watching the day unfold without urgency. No schedule. No pressure. No need to rush anywhere. And it’s often here not in the big cities or famous landmarks where people first start to think I could stay longer than I planned.
By the time you arrive in Hoi An, you’re ready for something a little softer again. Yes, it’s popular. Yes, it’s busy. And yes, you will be invited into at least ten tailor shops before you’ve walked a single street. But there’s a reason people keep coming.
Central Vietnam: Hoi An, Tailor Shops and Warm Lantern Nights
Hoi An has a way of slowing you down without asking permission. You wander more. Sit longer. Eat slower. Watch the lanterns come on as the sun fades, and suddenly the day feels like it’s stretched out in the best possible way.
You might go in thinking you’ll get one shirt made. You won’t. You’ll walk out measuring fabrics, discussing colours, and convincing yourself that a custom jacket is a perfectly reasonable travel purchase even if you currently live in a tropical climate. And somehow, it all makes sense at the time.
Now this may be a little controversial because I know many people absolutely love Hoi An and yes, it is beautiful especially at night with the lanterns glowing along the river. But if I’m being completely honest, it’s probably not my favourite part of Vietnam.
For me, it can feel a little too touristy, a little too polished and at times a little too pushy. Within about ten minutes you can be offered everything from lantern-making workshops to coconut boat rides, coffee classes, cooking schools, buffalo rides and bicycle tours through the rice fields.
And while many visitors absolutely adore that atmosphere, for me it sometimes feels less like Vietnam and more like a version of Vietnam carefully packaged for tourists.
That doesn’t mean it isn’t worth visiting because it absolutely is. But personally, the parts of Vietnam I connect with most are the places where everyday life still feels like it’s happening naturally around you rather than being organised into an activity brochure.
Hue is different again.
Quieter. More reflective. Almost like the country is giving you a moment to pause and catch up with yourself. After the movement of the cities and the sensory overload of travel, Hue feels like a deep breath. You don’t feel the need to do everything. You’re happy just… being there. And sometimes, that becomes one of the most memorable parts of the entire journey.
Hanoi brings the energy back but in a completely different way to the south.
It feels older. Denser. More layered. The Old Quarter hums with life, but it’s not just noise it’s character. History sitting side by side with everyday routines.
You’ll find yourself weaving through narrow streets, stopping for food, getting slightly lost, and somehow ending up exactly where you need to be. And then, without warning, you’ll stumble across a quiet lake, or a hidden café, and everything slows again.
One night, the city feels alive with celebration fireworks, crowds, noise. The next morning, it’s as if someone pressed pause.
And then there’s Halong Bay.
By the time you get there, you’ve already experienced so much that you almost wonder if anything can still surprise you.
It can.
There’s a stillness out on the water that’s hard to describe. Thousands of limestone islands rising from the sea, almost unreal in their scale and shape. You’ll take photos of course you will but eventually you stop trying to capture it. You simply sit back and take it all in.
I’ve been fortunate enough to explore this region many times over the years from the mountain landscapes of Sa Pa to Ninh Binh and of course Ha Long Bay itself. But one particular visit still stays with me more than any other.
We were sailing aboard the Celebrity Solstice after departing Singapore and heading towards Hong Kong. Our stop into Ha Long Bay happened at sunrise and somehow everything about that morning felt magical.
Most passengers were still asleep, but I was already out on deck early with a coffee in hand quietly watching the landscape emerge from the darkness.
The silence was what struck me first. As the ship slowly glided between the giant limestone formations rising out of the water, it almost felt dreamlike. The tourist day boats had not yet started their engines and the overnight cruise boats were still tucked quietly into sheltered bays. There was no noise. No rush. Just mist, still water and these enormous rock formations appearing one after another through the early morning light. It felt less like arriving somewhere and more like drifting through a painting.
That evening, as we sailed back out at sunset, the entire bay transformed again. The soft morning mist had been replaced by deep golden light and the rock outcrops took on a completely different atmosphere. Everything felt warmer, moodier and somehow even more dramatic than before.
It’s one of those travel moments that’s very difficult to explain properly afterwards because the real magic wasn’t just what we saw. It was the feeling of complete stillness amongst such incredible scenery.
So why do some people never leave?
Life simplifies. It a uncomplicated life
And I don’t mean life becomes perfect. Vietnam can still be noisy, chaotic, humid, confusing and occasionally exhausting. But somewhere amongst all of that, many people start noticing they feel better. Less rushed. Less scheduled. Less trapped in routines they didn’t even realise were exhausting them.
It’s not just the affordability, although that certainly helps. It’s not just the food, or the scenery, or even the weather. It’s what happens to you while you’re here. You start to notice things again. Morning coffee becomes something you look forward to, not something you rush through. Meals become experiences, not just something squeezed between activities. Time feels different. And for many people especially those coming from fast-paced, structured lives that shift is hard to undo. I’ve seen it happen again and again. People arrive with a return ticket. And then quietly start wondering if they really need it.
If Vietnam is sitting on your travel list for 2026, my advice is simple.
Come with a rough plan… but leave room for Vietnam to surprise you.
Because the real magic here usually happens in the moments you never planned for. The tiny coffee shop you accidentally find. The local restaurant with plastic stools and no English menu. The beach walk that somehow turns into sunset drinks and dinner three hours later.
And for some people, the trip quietly becomes something bigger.
What starts as “just visiting Vietnam” slowly turns into:
“Could I actually live here?”
That question is far more common than you might think especially after spending time in places like Da Nang where life somehow feels both simpler and better at the same time.
That’s exactly why I created the Living in Da Nang Vietnam Guide.
Not one of those generic ultimate Vietnam guides written by somebody who spent six days here ticking off tourist attractions before flying home. This guide is written from the perspective of people who actually live in Da Nang day in and day out. The good parts. The frustrating parts. The funny parts. The wet season flooding nobody mentions on Instagram. The best areas to live.
The real costs. The café culture.
The lifestyle adjustments. And the little things you only learn once Vietnam stops being a holiday and starts becoming real life.
Because sometimes Vietnam isn’t just somewhere you visit. Sometimes it quietly changes the direction of your life.
To purchase the Living in Da Nang Vietnam Guide, visit MyLifestyle.au and follow the links.
About the Author:
Sheridan-Leigh is the passionate voice behind the MyLifestyle Blog, where life is celebrated with vibrant stories and insightful travel tips. With a deep love for slow travel, she believes in truly experiencing each destination, creating connections beyond the surface. Her blog is a blend of personal stories, expert advice, and a philosophy that life is for living to the fullest and is rich with opportunities for growth and adventure. Join Sheridan-Leigh as she shares her journey, inspiring others to embrace life, travel deeply, and live fully.
Below are some recent travels on an interactive map.
Alternatively, view the full interactive travel journey at MyLifestyle Travel Map
