When Waiting Becomes a Journey
It began as a practical journey – a few weeks to fill the gap between my expiring Thai visa and the next one. I expected those days to be transitional, just a pause. Yet now, as I sit back with coffee in hand and revisit my Southeast Asia travel reflections, I see they became a journey of their own.
Three weeks, three cities, and three distinct rhythms of life:
Kuala Lumpur’s neon nostalgia.
Ho Chi Minh City’s relentless energy.
Vientiane’s quiet grace.
Somewhere between the noise and the stillness, I found what I hadn’t been looking for. Each city left its mark in a quiet but profound way, reminding me that even the most in-between chapters of life can hold the most vivid stories.
If you’re curious about the story behind these reflections – who I am and what brings me to these in-between places – you can read more about me here.
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia – Where History Leans Against Neon
Kuala Lumpur is a city in conversation with itself – where the past and present share the same breath. Faded rooftops, sizzling woks, and red lanterns live beneath glass towers. Old bricks and new skylines press close together, whispering stories across time. The city is alive, its voice a blend of the old and new.
Down quiet, nearly hidden alleys, time slows. Another world waits. A quiet step back in time. You find an upper-level bookstore above Petaling Street that winds upward through stair after stair – a place where stories pile as high as the shelves. Books spill into corners and the smell of paper mingles with the scent of street food below.
The facades are faded with time, their edges softened by decades of stories…yet above them rise glass towers, sharp and gleaming like a new language layered over the old. Here, the past doesn’t disappear; it negotiates with the present. And somewhere between incense smoke and LED light, I walked slowly…listening.
Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam – The Beauty of Chaos
If I had to choose one word for Ho Chi Minh City it would be chaos. The traffic, the noise, the smog. There’s no sidewalk safe from the swarm of motorbikes and carts. There’s no easy path across the street. The air hums with honks, calls, and laughter. Vendors push carts through narrow lanes, their voices rising above the din.
And yet, amid the disorder, the city speaks. Its rhythm is relentless, but beneath it hums a memory of what was, an echo of resilience – reminders carved into the stately Independence Palace, the grand Post Office, the elegant Saigon Opera House. Their French facades, sun-faded and dignified, speak of history that refuses to fade.
Then morning comes, soft and forgiving. The city softens. The chaos takes a breath. Locals sit outside of small shops with cups of oolong, steam curling into the dawn. I sip an egg cream coffee – a decadent blend so rich there are no words to do it justice – and watch as another chapter of Saigon unfolds.
Vientiane, Laos – The Stillness Beside the Mekong
Vientiane is the road less traveled – quiet, calm, and unwavering beside the Mekong. After the dizzying motion of Kuala Lumpur and Ho Chi Minh City, this stillness feels sacred. A quiet that doesn’t feel empty but full – full of presence, of grace, of something timeless.
The city reminds me of Thailand – the language, the food, the familiar smiles – yet it holds its own understated elegance. The women in silk wrap skirts, their colors vibrant against the dust of the streets. The men in their pressed shirts, walking to offices that face golden temples. At moments, I feel as though I’ve stumbled onto a Parisian side street; at others, a lane in Seoul. The blending of cultures is seamless, subtle. Vientiane is a collage of worlds, a whisper of many influences that somehow remain entirely its own.
The air carries notes of licorice, coffee, lime and chili – a scent both grounding and alive. Here, time doesn’t move fast or slow. It simply is.
In Between Worlds
What began as a waiting period between visas became a reminder that pauses in life can hold their own kind of magic. Each city – so different, so alive – mirrored a rhythm of transition: movement, chaos, stillness.
Kuala Lumpur taught me to listen to the dialogue between old and new.
Ho Chi Minh City reminded me to find beauty in the chaos.
Vientiane, gentle and grounded, taught me to breathe, whispering that stillness is enough.
Sometimes, the most unexpected journeys happen when you’re not trying to go anywhere at all.
*Photo Credit: Kerry Shepherd