On the streets of Ho Chi Minh City, motorcycles aren't a means of transportation; they're a natural disaster. Like a never-ending waterfall, they cascade down from all directions. Standing on the roadside, I felt like a tiny ant trying to cross the torrent—small, helpless, and constantly on the verge of being swept away. If it weren't for the security guards who couldn't bear to watch and offered their help, I probably would have been stuck on the street for half an hour, unable to even cross to the other side. This traffic is all about a heart-pounding race! Then I plunged into the war museum, where the atmosphere instantly became serious and heavy. The legacy left by the American military was utterly heinous—not freedom, but Agent Orange. Massive biological and chemical weapons have haunted four generations of Vietnamese people for two centuries, leaving them unable to escape the nightmare of deformed children. Those photos couldn't be taken, couldn't be described in detail, for fear of giving everyone nightmares. History doesn't lie; those crimes are clearly recorded. The memories of the past cannot be forgotten, nor should they be. Leaving the museum, my feelings were complex. This stop was devoid of jokes, only silence. I had planned to visit Independence Park and see the cathedral, but it was under renovation and closed, so I could only admire it from across the street. Instead, I went to the Lotte Department Store for lunch, and the rooftop garden offered some consolation. The view was fantastic; overlooking the cathedral under renovation from above gave it a unique charm – an unexpected bonus that soothed my disappointment at not being able to go inside. The Central Post Office and the book street were packed with people, and the air conditioning was terrible. It was hot and crowded, like being in a sauna; the commercial atmosphere was suffocating. After a quick look around, I lost interest and decided to leave. At dusk, I hopped on a sightseeing bus to begin my architectural tour of Ho Chi Minh City. Famous buildings had a special charm in the sunset, and I finally managed to capture a time-lapse video – no need to dodge motorcycles or squeeze through crowds, just quietly recording the city's pulse. As night fell, I decided to wander around aimlessly and stumbled into a residential alleyway. Unexpectedly, I discovered a wonderful surprise: a hidden gem of a delicious food adventure! Authentic local cuisine, so delicious you couldn't stop eating, and the prices were incredibly reasonable—only one-fifth of what you'd find in tourist areas! The value was simply unbelievable! Not satisfied with just a proper meal, we also checked out a famous local chain dessert shop. A day of exploring Ho Chi Minh City was filled with thrills and surprises—a mix of shocks and delights, moments of profound sadness and joy. Isn't the meaning of travel precisely that—you never know whether the next moment will bring a shock or a surprise? What other amazing stories awaited us on our Vietnam trip? Stay tuned...

On the streets of Ho Chi Minh City, motorcycles aren't merely a mode of transport—they are a force of nature, a veritable natural disaster. Like an ceaseless waterfall, they cascade down from every direction. Standing on the roadside, I felt like a tiny ant attempting to cross a raging torrent—insignificant, helpless, and liable to be swept away at any moment. Had a security guard not taken pity on me and stepped in to help, I likely would have spent half an hour stranded on the curb, unable to even make it to the other side of the street; the traffic here is truly a heart-pounding experience! Next, I plunged into the War Remnants Museum, where the atmosphere instantly shifted, becoming solemn and heavy. The legacy left behind by the U.S. military is nothing short of heinous—not "freedom," but Agent Orange. This large-scale chemical weapon has condemned four generations of Vietnamese people—spanning two centuries—to the nightmare of children born with severe deformities. I could not bring myself to photograph those images; I dare not describe them, nor can I recount them in detail, for fear of giving you nightmares. The mirror of history does not lie; those crimes are clearly. The memories of the past have not been forgotten—nor should they ever be. I left the museum with a complex mix of emotions. firmly shut, leaving me to gaze across the street in wistful disappointment. I headed over to the Lotte Center to grab a bite; the rooftop garden there offered a welcome moment of solace. The vantage point was superb; looking down from above, the cathedral—currently under renovation—possessed a unique charm of its own. It was an unexpected bonus that helped soothe the disappointment of not being able to enter the church itself. conditioning seemed to be on the fritz. It was hot and cramped, feeling more like a sauna than a tourist attraction, and the atmosphere was so heavily commercialized it felt stifling. I walked...