The habit of re-seasoning food, especially noodle soups, has almost become instinctive for many diners in Vietnam.

The flight landed on time. I hurried to the baggage claim thinking I would be out and on my way to a meeting within 10–15 minutes. Thirty minutes went by. An hour passed. My suitcase still had not appeared.

It was a summer day in the Dutch countryside when I met a boy about 12 or 13 years old.

Making English a compulsory subject from grade 1 is undeniably the right direction, but as a parent, the policy still brings me mixed thoughts: I'm worried that my child will be overloaded.

"Half a kilo more, come on! The plane carries hundreds of people, what difference does it make?" a woman snapped as airline staff stopped her at the check-in counter.

I got to the airport early, but the flight was delayed, then the airline changed the boarding gate, causing me to miss my flight.

I am a product of public education, and when I went abroad to study and work, I never felt inferior to my international peers.

The Australian government announced a ban on children under 16 using social networks with effect from December this year.

A friend of mine, a manager at a trading company, had to make a difficult decision last summer to pull his child out of an international school with tuition and expenses totaling VND450 million (US$17,100) per year.

Many candidates who graduated from top universities, scored an impressive IELTS 8.0, participated in research projects, and achieved remarkable accomplishments still get rejected at my company after the interview round.

Once when I was in Thai Binh, someone asked me in Vietnamese about my "nương". I froze for a second. "Why's he asking me about barbecue (nướng)?" Seeing my confusion, he burst out laughing: "Ah, I meant 'lương', your salary."

Having witnessed the Japanese lining up in perfect order and maintaining a quiet demeanor everywhere, I could not help but compare it to the bustling, noisy conversations I often hear in other places.

Vietnamese people don't just like to eat; eating here is a lifestyle, a commitment, almost a kind of faith, the backbone of the entire culture.

During a business trip to Hanoi many years ago my foreign colleague and I met a woman while walking around Hoan Kiem Lake.

Every evening on Nguyen Chi Thanh Street, it takes me 15 minutes to crawl just 400 meters as cars and buses spread across five lanes, forcing motorcycles to climb sidewalks or squeeze through gaps.

For five hours, I lived a nightmare. My “luxury” apartment in central Hanoi, the home I trusted to keep me safe, suddenly became a man-made lake, with water soaking books, bedding, wardrobes, even dripping through electrical sockets.

After a rhino carcass was discovered in Nam Cat Tien, I met village elder Dieu K'Giang (possibly the first person to see rhinos in Nam Cat Tien), hoping to hear it was not the last of them.

Vietnam's proposed nine-day Tet holiday in 2026 may look generous, but for millions who spend days just traveling home, it feels short.

Despite everyone's efforts to cheer him and invite him to join the celebration around a beautifully crafted cake, my son could not take his eyes off his cell phone.