Da Nang, Vietnam: Jet Lag, Lady Buddha, and the Massage That Nearly Killed Me
The Long Way to Something Special
Some trips are about getting away. This one was about arriving.
Vietnam had been building in our minds for a long time. Not just as a destination, but as a place already tied to people we love. Ziah, Vance’s younger brother, had moved to Da Nang, fallen in love, married Thao, and started a beautiful little family there. This trip meant finally stepping into his world in person. It meant meeting Thao, holding baby Hudson for the first time, and seeing a corner of the world that had already become part of our family story.
Getting there was no small feat. We started with a three hour drive to Salt Lake City, then a two hour flight to LAX, a nine hour layover, a nearly 16 hour flight to Hong Kong, and one final two hour flight into Da Nang. It sounds like the sort of itinerary that should have broken us, but somehow it went shockingly well.
I actually slept on the plane, which is a miracle I attribute almost entirely to my AirSlyng sleep system, the kind that basically ties me upright to my chair and keeps me from collapsing into a feral travel goblin. By the time we landed in Da Nang on the morning of March 21, we were tired, rumpled, and running on pure anticipation.
First Stop: Family
Our first Airbnb had arranged complimentary pickup for Vance, Whitney, Raquel, Craig and I. After dropping off our bags, we headed straight to the stop that mattered most. Ziah’s home.
Four month old baby Hudson was every bit as irresistible as promised. Chunky, calm, cherubic, and pure joy. The kind of baby that makes a whole room soften the second you see him. Meeting him in person made every grueling flight and layover instantly worth it.
Meeting Thao was just as special. She was warm, welcoming, and immediately made us feel like family. There was something deeply meaningful about standing inside the life Ziah had built here instead of just hearing about it from far away.
BBQ, Coconut Ice Cream, and the Price Shock
Our first full meal in Da Nang was at one of Ziah’s favorite restaurants for Vietnamese barbecue, Quán Phú Hồng. It did not take long for the entire table to realize that Vietnamese food was about to make most of what we eat in the U.S. seem painfully mediocre.
The meal was exceptional. Fresh, flavorful, and one of those dining experiences where conversation keeps getting interrupted by everyone realizing they need to focus on the food in front of them.
Afterward, we walked around the corner for coconut ice cream served in real coconuts, because apparently Vietnam does not believe in half measures. It was cold, creamy, fresh, and absolutely delicious.
And the price still blows my mind. The coconut ice cream bowls were only about one dollar. In the US, that same dessert would somehow cost twelve to fifteen bucks and be asking for a tip before you even tasted it. Everything felt unbelievably affordable. Ten times cheaper than home, sometimes more.
In just a few hours, Da Nang was already working its magic.
Learning the Rhythm of the Streets
One of the very first things you notice in Vietnam is the traffic. Or more specifically, the scooters.
Endless scooters. A nonstop flowing river of mopeds weaving around cars, around each other, around pedestrians, and somehow around the laws of physics. At first, it looked completely insane to me.
The traffic never stopped. Thousands of scooters, horns chirping, people merging from every angle, everyone somehow reading the same invisible script. And yet, despite all that motion, I never once saw road rage. I also never saw an accident the entire week we were in Vietnam. It felt like everyone had collectively tapped into some higher traffic consciousness the rest of us have not yet unlocked.
The horn means something different there too. Rather than anger or frustration, in Vietnam, it seemed to mean something more like, “hello, I am here,” or “on your left,” or “just so you know, I will absolutely be squeezing through this space.”
The scooters themselves were a full spectacle. I saw families of four on one scooter and a woman breastfeeding while driving. I saw people transporting baskets, boxes, cook stoves, bundles of goods stacked higher than seemed remotely safe, all lashed down with what appeared to be a combination of bungee cords, rope, optimism, and prayer.
And then there is crossing the street, which is less of a pedestrian activity and more of an act of faith.
There are crosswalks, technically, but they feel more like suggested zones where you may attempt to join the moving puzzle. The key, we quickly learned, is commitment. Once you start crossing, you must keep going at a steady pace. Do not stall. Do not hesitate. Do not backtrack. The cars and scooters will weave around you like water around a rock. But if you panic and break your rhythm… smack!
Honestly, I could write an entire blog post on traffic in Vietnam alone. It was equal parts terrifying, impressive, hilarious, and weirdly beautiful. By the end of the trip, I had gone from clutching my life at every intersection to thinking, okay, maybe I too can become one with the scooter current.
Monkey Mountain and Lady Buddha
Our first real outing was Monkey Mountain, also known as Sơn Trà Peninsula.
And wow. Lady Buddha is one of those landmarks that stops you in your tracks. The statue is massive, elegant, and serene all at once. She rises above the landscape facing the sea, and the entire setting feels both grand and deeply peaceful. I loved it instantly.
The temple grounds were stunning. Intricate architecture, carefully manicured gardens, sculpted trees, bonsai displays, and that incredible backdrop of sea and sky. It all felt beautiful in a way that was both detailed and calm, the kind of place that makes you instinctively slow your steps and take it in a little more carefully.
Meanwhile, Raquel was fighting for her life trying to stay awake, which added a very real and very funny layer of jet lagged humanity to the spiritual majesty of the moment.
That night, we walked to one of Thao’s favorite pho spots for dinner, Phở Thìn Hồ Nghinh, and once again, the food was phenomenal. By that point, it was becoming very clear that Vietnam is an absolute paradise for food lovers.
Sunrise, Salt Coffee, and Surrendering to American Breakfast
The next morning started with a beach walk with most of the family. The weather was perfect and the water felt amazing. We watched fishermen working hard to drag in their traps. Even from a distance, it was clear this was no leisurely morning hobby.
Then came breakfast. The family wanted American style breakfast. Vance and I surrendered in the name of togetherness, though we were both fully ready to continue our streak of eating only authentic Vietnamese food at every opportunity.
Sure, the food was good but the redeeming factor was the coffee. I tried salt coffee, cà phê muối, and coconut coffee, cà phê dừa, for the first time, and both were incredible. Rich, creamy, slightly indulgent, and unlike anything I had tried before. Vance had cà phê sữa nóng, hot coffee with condensed milk, which was equally divine. So even though breakfast itself veered a little more waffle than we had envisioned, the coffee alone made the detour worth it.
Han Market: Enter Chaos
Next came Han Market. Pure sensory overload in the best possible way. Crowded, energetic, sprawling, and packed with everything from souvenirs to clothing to food to things I am fairly certain no one actually needs but suddenly feels compelled to buy. It felt endless. Multiple levels, narrow aisles, waves of people, and a kind of contagious energy that made the whole place feel alive.
We still needed work on our bartering skills. Mike, however, was in his element. He seemed to love every second of it and moved through the market with the confidence of a man born to negotiate. Whitney, on the other hand, was terrible at bargaining because the prices were already so low in U.S. dollars that she felt bad even asking. Honestly, fair enough.
The whole market experience felt wildly fun. Overstimulating, a little chaotic, and somehow impossible not to enjoy.
Beer First. Regret Later.
After Han Market, we walked to Brew Haha to sample local beers, which was exactly the right move for Vance. He was fully in his element, local craft beer in hand, happy as can be.
And then came the massage.
Now, this is where our group texts became important because Ziah had sent an absolutely golden warning earlier. He said to avoid pressure massages because they were basically an opportunity for a local to beat the crap out of a tourist. What you actually want, according to him, is aroma or body relaxation massage.
This was excellent advice. I ignored it.
I checked the box for a hard deep tissue massage, because apparently I had learned nothing in my forty-something years on this earth. What followed was not a massage. It was a reckoning.
Never in my life would I have imagined that a tiny Vietnamese woman could cause me that much pain while remaining so composed. At some point she climbed on the table and began using elbows, knees, and techniques I can only describe as medically adjacent.
Every few minutes she would pause and ask if I was okay and every few minutes I would say yes. This was my second terrible decision.
I do not know why I kept saying yes. Pride, perhaps? Delusion? A misguided belief in my own toughness? Instead, I spent the next ninety minutes face down, being tenderized like a steak and holding on to my dignity by the thinnest of spiritual threads.
On the walk back to the Airbnb, I was so disoriented that I walked directly into a parked moped and bruised my leg. Yes, I said parked. I would love to tell you this is an exaggeration for the sake of storytelling, but it is not.
Still, in the interest of fairness, perhaps something useful did happen in there. Maybe my lats were not the only things released. Maybe a few demons were cast out too. I may have left bruised, humbled, and mildly traumatized, but who knows, perhaps I also left purified.
Lesson learned. Next time I will be checking the light box, the gentle box, the soft breeze and lavender box. Never again.
A Feast at Madame Lân
That night, we all went to dinner at one of Thao’s favorite restaurants, Nhà hàng Madame Lân, and it was the perfect ending to the day.
There were eleven of us at the table, and the food just kept coming. Course after course of authentic Vietnamese dishes, shared family style, with everyone passing plates, trying a little of everything, and eating far beyond the point of reason. It was fabulous.
And it captured something that had already become clear in our first two days in Da Nang. This trip was about being together. About stepping into each other’s worlds. About eating incredible food with people you love and laughing until your face hurts and wandering through new places with the strange, wonderful awareness that life can still surprise you.
First Impressions of Da Nang
Da Nang welcomed us with warmth, beauty, incredible food, and just enough chaos to keep things interesting. It gave us our first moments with Hudson. Our first time meeting Thao in person. Our first awe-struck walk beneath Lady Buddha. Our first taste of Vietnamese coffee. Our first deep dive into the glorious frenzy of Han Market. Our first lesson in the difference between “deep tissue” and “assault.”
And somehow, in just two days, it already felt like more than a destination. It felt personal, joyful, exactly the kind of trip that reminds you why we do this in the first place. Not just to see the world, but to meet it through the people we love.