24 articles

Most people go to Thailand for the temples, the history, the food, the colour and chaos. There’s something for everyone, from family adventures to the wild nightlife of Patong. But for us, at least on this visit, it became something quite different.

Sri Lanka is often painted as a tropical dream, with endless beaches, warm smiles, and jungle adventures. But beyond the postcard moments lies a raw and untamed beauty that asks you to slow down, adapt, and embrace its imperfections. This isn’t a trip that always runs to plan, and that’s where the magic begins.

Sri Lanka’s magic isn’t found in a rush. It reveals itself slowly — in the curve of a coastal bay, the shadow of an elephant at dawn, and the mist that clings to tea hills. This route takes you from the island’s sunlit shores through its wild heartlands and into the green embrace of the hill country.

Kuala Lumpur, a city that served as a stopover en route to Sri Lanka, could be the gateway to something extraordinary. A city where colonial architecture meets sleek skyscrapers, where incense drifts through ancient temples just blocks away from air-conditioned malls, and where the rhythm of a Southeast Asian metropolis pulses beneath every step.

Yes, I’ve been to some incredible places over the last few months. But what I’ve realised is that when you don’t have a “home” to go back to, or more importantly, no clear end date, even the most remarkable experiences begin to feel… normal. And normal, when stretched too long, loses its magic.

Four months ago, I packed up my perfectly curated Melbourne life, placed it neatly into a 3x3 storage cage, and boarded a one-way flight. Since then, I’ve travelled through Bali, Vietnam, Cambodia, Kuala Lumpur, and Sri Lanka, with Thailand just around the corner.

There are places in the world that don’t just ask you to visit—they invite you to feel. Cambodia is one of those places. Thick with memory, gilded with devotion, and humming with life, it offers a kind of travel that moves beneath the surface. This isn’t a country for rushing through. It’s a country for pausing, listening, and letting the stories rise from the land itself.

A reflection on slowing down, shedding layers, and returning to self through travel. There’s this idea we’re sold, that travel should be a rush. To see the world is to move quickly from country to country, ticking off iconic sights and staying “on the go.” I thought that energy would sustain me.

I used to believe I was a good traveller. Curious. Kind. Conscious. But as I moved through the villages of Vietnam, past rice paddies, crumbling temples, food stalls, and families, I was forced to reckon with a quieter truth. I have always been a privileged traveller. And with that privilege comes a responsibility.

There was a time when wellness travel felt like a luxury reserved for the few. A distant dream of remote retreats, all-inclusive spas, and Instagrammable jungle sanctuaries. But something has shifted. Wellness is no longer a destination; it’s a way of travelling, of seeing, of being. And now, it’s becoming more accessible, more intentional, and more beautifully human.

Once known as Saigon, this city doesn’t sleep. It pulses with ambition and creativity. Motorbikes swarm like schools of fish, cafés buzz with conversation, and remnants of French colonialism linger between steel skyscrapers.

The Mekong Delta is a tapestry of rivers, rice fields, and resilience. Life here moves to the rhythm of the water, and travellers who venture south are rewarded with a glimpse into a Vietnam both ancient and alive.

Hoi An is a soft dream. The Old Town is a perfectly preserved trading port that once connected East and West. Japanese, Chinese, French, and Vietnamese influences converge in the yellow-walled buildings and winding alleyways that glow with lantern light at dusk.

Perched high in the Truong Son Mountains, Ba Na Hills feels like a page from a storybook. First developed by the French in the early 1900s as a hill station, today it’s home to an eclectic mix of European-inspired architecture, gardens, and one of the world’s longest cable car rides.

Da Nang is a city of contrasts, a place where modern bridges arc over dragon-shaped rivers, and sleek cafés sit beside ancient temples. Once a French colonial port, now a booming coastal hub, Da Nang offers both energy and ease for the slow traveler.

Tucked between the Bach Ma mountains and Lang Co Bay, Lap An Lagoon is a lesser-known marvel of central Vietnam. The brackish water reflects the sky like a mirror, especially at low tide when a narrow sand path emerges across the lagoon.

Hue was once the imperial capital of Vietnam and the heart of the Nguyen Dynasty (1802–1945). It’s a city built on poetry, perfumed rivers, and stories of royalty and resistance. The Perfume River, named for the blossoms that once fell into it from orchards upstream, cuts through the city’s soul.

Located within Marble Mountain near Da Nang, Am Phu Cave, translated to "Cave of Hell" is a symbolic journey through the realms of Buddhist belief. It offers a deep dive into Vietnamese spirituality, portraying both Heaven and Hell with vivid, eerie sculptures.

Ninh Binh is a quieter soul in northern Vietnam — a patchwork of rice fields, rivers, and limestone cliffs that echo the shape of Ha Long Bay, but on land. Known as the ancient capital of Hoa Lu, this region has an energy that invites slow travel and quiet awe.

Ha Long Bay, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, is a place of mystic beauty and stillness. Over 1,600 limestone islands rise from the emerald waters like scattered pearls from a dragon's breath. Legend says a celestial dragon and her children descended to protect Vietnam, breathing jade and jewels into the sea to create this bay—a story still whispered by locals.

There’s a certain beauty in packing not just clothes or chargers, but your rituals. A yoga mat, a journal, snacks that feel good, shoes that let you walk for miles — these are tools that shift travel from hectic to healing.

With grand plans of spending three months in Vietnam, we secured a 90-day visa, packed our lives into suitcases, and left the bliss of Bali for the cultural mosaic of Vietnam.

Hanoi is loud, fast and beautiful, but it can also be chaotic, overwhelming and, at times, a little stressful. There’s a price we travellers pay for seeking out the kind of energy that feels different from home. The rewards are rich, but they don’t come easily.

We’ve spent 12 days here in Vietnam so far, and it’s an exciting, stimulating place, full of contrast, colour, and sensory overload (especially as a vegan). Here's how we’d break it down into a 7-day itinerary for anyone wanting a curated yet immersive experience.