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

While we deploy our suitcases out of the terminal and we stop for a customary group selfie, I feel air outside for the first time in twelve hours. Hanoi is hot and sticky. On the journey of our hotel in the old district of Hanoi, I look at the gray and indefinable landscape. Nothing still feels “foreign”. The only striking feature is absurdly thin buildings – an intelligent bypass solution implemented to escape taxes during the French diet. I cannot decide whether they are charming or claustrophobic.
The hotel room is not ready, so we leave our bags behind us and go out to find lunch. My mouth stinking and there is a film on my teeth, but this is not an opportunity to be picky on dental hygiene. The streets are narrow and almost closed in heaven. Each centimeter of space has been claimed by food stands with low plastic stools, scooters and cyclos, temples and heritage houses. In the middle of this madness, the Hoàn Kiếm green lake breathes quietly.
Traveling to Vietnam has been on my list of buckets for years, and it has been in the process of living for months. An MS Word document with a calendar and costs has been broadcast well in advance. “Do not go to Vietnam before watching this”, the videos were consumed with diligence. No part of the holidays was left at random. But now that the holidays have officially started, I feel spent. The tension of sleepless travel, the delay that almost made us miss our connection flight and the mini-heart attack that my brother caused by the false initial of his wife on the ticket is known. I want rest and relaxation, but what I have is a waterproof route and the feeling that I must not weaken.
After lunch, we walk to old coffee for egg coffee. Three ingredients that should never merge are poured into the same cup: egg yolk, condensed milk and coffee. Only my brother drinks him. The rest of us quickly pretends to be open -minded and adventurous.