Travelling to Vietnam made me realise that my love for holidaying is fading

As we roll our suitcases out of the terminal and pause for a customary group selfie, I sense the air outside for the first time in twelve hours. Hanoi is hot and sticky. On the drive to our hotel in Hanoi’s Old Quarter, I gaze at the grey, nondescript landscape. Nothing feels ‘foreign’ yet. The only striking feature is the absurdly thin buildings—a clever workaround implemented to evade taxes during French rule. I cannot decide if they are charming or claustrophobic.

The hotel room is not ready so we leave our bags behind and step out to find lunch. My mouth stinks and there is film on my teeth but this isn’t the occasion to be picky about dental hygiene. The streets are narrow and almost closed to the sky. Every inch of space has been claimed by food stalls with low plastic stools, scooters and cyclos, temples and heritage homes. In the middle of this madness, the green Hoàn Kiếm Lake breathes quietly.

Hoàn Kiếm Lake. Getty Images

Travelling to Vietnam has been on my bucket list for years, and willing it into existence has been in the works for months. An MS Word document with a schedule and costs was circulated well in advance. ‘Don’t go to Vietnam before watching this’ videos were consumed diligently. No part of the holiday was left to chance. But now that the holiday has officially begun, I feel spent. The strain of sleepless travel, the delay that almost made us miss our connecting flight and the mini-heart attack my brother caused by getting his wife’s initials wrong on the ticket are making themselves known. I want rest and relaxation but what I have is a watertight itinerary and the feeling that I must not falter.

After lunch, we walk to an old cafe for egg coffee. Three ingredients that should never coalesce are poured into the same cup: egg yolk, condensed milk and coffee. Only my brother drinks it. The rest of us quickly drop the pretence of being open-minded and adventurous.