The happenings of Tuesday March 18, 2025 through Saturday March 22, 2025 travelling between Sydney, Australia and Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam
We woke up early in our Airbnb in Sydney, Australia, to finish packing for our flight to Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. For whatever reason, I was extremely dehydrated. No matter how much water I drank, it didn’t feel like enough. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that entering a flight even slightly dehydrated does not work for my body. Ugh.
Truthfully, I was nervous about Vietnam. On the one hand, I’d heard families with children love it. On the other, I had no idea what to expect. To make matters worse, our Airbnb turned out to be much farther from Chabad than advertised—almost an hour’s walk away. It was nothing we couldn’t handle, but the weather was going to be hot and humid. Although we’d packed in a lot of adventurous and physically demanding activities in Sydney, Chaim and I still hadn’t fully recovered from the flu we caught on the cruise. I hoped we could handle the walk, the weather, and the boys’ energy levels, which had since bounced back with full force.
Our first full day in Ho Chi Minh, Chaim went to work while the boys got through a solid amount of schoolwork. We mostly stayed in, recovering from travel and enjoying the small playground in our building complex. We needed food, but no one wanted to come with me, so I left Amichai in charge and went grocery shopping on my own. Along the way, I passed a little party store. The twins’ birthday was coming up, and I wasn’t sure how we were going to celebrate. I found adorable birthday sunglasses—perfect little tokens to let them know their special day mattered. Since Eitan’s birthday was just a few weeks after theirs, I bought him a pair, too.
Back at the apartment, I ordered food from the Chabad House. It was tasty, but we had to eat with our hands — no fleishig/meat-friendly plates or utensils, a recurring issue in our Airbnbs. It’s just easier to kasher/make kosher the kitchen and keep it dairy; meat remained a luxury during our travels.
The next day started with school again, and—finally—we reinstated our chore routine, which we hadn’t been able to implement since leaving Israel. After a productive morning, the boys and I visited the War Remnants Museum.
The museum focuses on the Vietnam War—referred to there as “The War of American Aggression” or “The Resistance War Against America to Save the Nation”—and its impact on the Vietnamese people. It’s not for the faint of heart. I’d done a fair bit of research about whether it was appropriate for children (stay outside and on the first floor). Before we entered, I gave the boys a mini-history lesson and explained that we’d only be visiting about a third of the museum. The other exhibits include visuals that are not yet appropriate for them – they’re even hard to stomach as an adult. I shared a bit about Agent Orange and how it affected people. Often, the boys think I’m overbearing and overly cautious, that I assume they’re not ready for things they feel ready to see. But for whatever reason — maybe the tone in my voice, or the remnants of war on display at the entrance — they took me seriously. They were careful not to venture into other parts of the museum without asking permission first.
The visit sparked tough but meaningful conversations—about the horrors of war, the roles of America and other nations, the ongoing tension between capitalism and communism, and how learning from multiple conflicting perspectives is important to learning and understanding history.
After such a heavy experience, we needed ice cream. We stopped at the museum café and had the chance to try fresh coconut water. Amichai loved it. Eitan thought it was decent. Shai declared it “meh,” and Matanel wouldn’t touch it. In our family, that’s a win.
Next, we headed to Tao Đàn Park, where the boys played in the sprinklers watering the grass. I don’t know if we were technically allowed to, but it was so hot and humid, I didn’t care. Once they were fully soaked, we made our way to the playground, where they had a blast on semi-functional equipment and watched rats scamper across the area. I was very glad I’d brought hand sanitizer.
Next to the park was a free public bathroom. Interestingly, just as it’s customary in Vietnam to remove your shoes before entering a home, you also have to take off your shoes before entering the bathroom. Slippers are provided so you don’t go in barefoot. I still can’t decide if I find that charming or a little gross.
We were still sopping wet when it was time to return home. It was a 45-minute walk, but we opted to walk instead of ruining someone’s car. The route was straightforward enough, but crossing streets in Vietnam is a whole experience. We’d heard about the traffic—cars, motorcyclists, and scooters, all competing for space—and it lived up to the hype. I’d read a travel blogger describe Vietnamese traffic as an organism with its own flow. In that metaphor: cars are one limb, motorcyclists another, scooters another, and bicycles are thrown in to keep you on your toes.
When I shared this metaphor with the boys, they scoffed: “Hah! We walked the streets in India. We can handle anything.” And to be fair—they weren’t wrong. Still, we had to learn to read the Vietnamese traffic flow in order to cross without disrupting the “organism.” In the end, we made it through multiple intense intersections. The boys were proud. I didn’t exhale until we turned onto our street.
During the walk, we admired the whimsical helmets worn by scooter drivers, marveled at full pigs and birds roasting on sidewalk spits (a first for us), and noticed the unbelievably narrow homes and low sidewalk seating at every eatery. We also saw workout equipment spaced throughout the city and dogs riding on scooters—often curled up where drivers would normally place their feet.
After an hour to shower and eat, we turned around to see a Water Puppet Show at the famous Golden Dragon Theater. The entire show takes place in a shallow pool of water and is exactly what it sounds like. We couldn’t understand a word—it was all in Vietnamese—but the puppetry was clever, and the music was delightful. The boys laughed the entire time. So, did I.
The next day was Friday. I had looked into a nearby waterpark that sounded promising, but after reading reviews about questionable treatment of animals, the boys decided we shouldn’t go. They weren’t up for much anyway, and we had a long walk ahead after dinner at Chabad. We focused on school instead.
Before heading to Chabad, we made a stop at the Jade Emperor Pagoda, a serene Buddhist temple filled with lush flora, intricate shrines, and a fishpond with enormous koi. It was a calming, reflective space that invited quiet thought. We talked about Buddhism and the differences between Hindu, Jain, Buddhist, Christian, and Jewish places of worship. Then we continued on to Chabad.
The Chabad House was packed—two full floors crammed with people. I was stunned by the number of visitors. We sat with two lovely American women from New York who travel often and were incredibly patient and kind to our kids. One of them keeps a kosher travel blog that they shared with us — www.kosheradventures.blogspot.com — which gave us great ideas for South America. The boys were excited to hear we’d see them again at shul the next day.
Shabbat morning, Matanel was so excited that he came in at 6:00 AM just to announce it was his and Shai’s birthday. Then we fell back asleep. Shai joined us an hour later, and we celebrated all over again. By 8:00 AM, the festivities were in full swing—with their special birthday sunglasses and a sugar-packed breakfast featuring their favorite snacks of the year: Oreos, Froot Loops, Coco Pops, Frosties, and babka.
At Chabad later that day, I asked the rabbi if we could sing Happy Birthday. He happily agreed, and the whole room joined in. In true Israeli style, a few men jumped up and lifted Shai and Matanel, each on their own chair, while everyone sang. The boys beamed. It made them feel truly celebrated. Naturally, Eitan and Amichai jumped in to “help” lift them.
The walk back from Chabad took over an hour in oppressive heat. Though we passed the famous Bến Thành Market, we didn’t go in. We’ve visited enough markets by now to know that the overwhelming smell of raw meat and fish is not for us. Especially in the heat! Back at the apartment, Chaim took the boys downstairs to the pool while I passed out at the foot of our bed. (For some reason, I hadn’t fallen asleep until 4:00 AM the night before.) When I woke up and joined them, Chaim tagged out and was asleep for the night by 5:00 PM. Getting over the flu was still a work in progress.
After Shabbat, the boys helped me pack up. None of us felt ready to move again so soon, especially because the beds in our Ho Chi Minh Airbnb were the most comfortable, we’d had all year. But we were excited about our next stop, Hoi An. Supposedly, our Airbnb would be just a three-minute walk from the beach.
Approaching our time in Ho Chi Minh with a slow travel mindset turned out to be exactly what we needed. The days were less packed but no less rich, with moments of joy, challenge, curiosity, and connection. From museum visits to playground sprinklers, cautious street crossings to shared Shabbat meals, this stretch of our journey reminded us that slowing the pace doesn’t mean pressing pause. It simply means making space for each other, for learning, and for soaking in the world around us. We were looking forward to ten days in Hoi An to keep this feeling going.
