Looking at the iced milk coffee that was one-third condensed milk, my friend excitedly took a big sip, only to shake his head and stick out his tongue: "Too sweet."

On Sept. 2, 1945, President Ho Chi Minh declared Vietnam's independence and its birth as a free nation.

Years ago at a Bangkok airport, staff let my overweight bag through after finding it was filled with books. That small act of flexibility left me grateful, and made me think about how fragile the balance is between rules, fairness, and service culture in aviation.

On Sunday morning as I drove to a familiar coffee corner, I noticed Hanoi was resplendent as preparations have begun for the National Day celebrations.

I studied English the traditional way, through textbooks and dictionaries. After decades, no matter how long or complex a sentence is, I can still grasp the main idea.

I’ve lived and worked in Vietnam for nearly 30 years. As someone who runs a business here, I've long considered one coffee chain a convenient and comfortable place for informal meetings, casual catch-ups, and a decent cup of tea.

There are two kinds of news: the kind that lifts you up, and the kind that drags you down. Ho Chi Minh City, right now, has both: global love and an airport problem.

After 10 seconds standing behind an old motorbike at a red light, I began to feel short of breath, my head started to spin, and the girl behind me couldn't stop coughing.

I live and work in the heart of Hanoi. Most days, I get around by bicycle, timing my rides to avoid rush hours so I can steer clear of the worst traffic and save money. It's a small habit that makes city life just a little less stressful.

With Long Thanh International Airport expected to open by early next year, or even as soon as December, readers are voicing a key concern: how travelers will get there quickly from Ho Chi Minh City.

I stared at the little lump of drool and baby fat as it was cradled and cooed over by a crowd of devoted grown-ups. It had all the classic signs of high intelligence, if your definition of intelligence includes a powerful survival instinct, the ability to scream on command, and an uncanny knack for getting adults to do exactly what it wants, no training required.

Over the past three years, nearly 70% of my flights have been delayed by at least 45 minutes, and more than half of those by an hour or more.

When I first moved to Zurich, Switzerland, I found the city's strict sanitation regulations inconvenient and demanding.

My parents and relatives still don't believe I'm actually working, mainly because they see me waking up at 10 a.m. and spending my days in coffee shops.

I used to believe that reminding others to be more considerate could help make our streets a better place. But one afternoon in Hanoi made me question that belief, and left me feeling shaken and powerless.

Hanoi is choking on traffic and smog. A simple, low-cost fix could save billions: two work-from-home days each week.

When I moved from the U.K. to work in Dubai, my boss would introduce me as an "expert from the United Kingdom." It sounded flattering, proof that I brought skill and professionalism. But I always added, quietly but proudly: "I'm Vietnamese."

Everyone around me seemed to know what they loved. My classmates had clear hobbies: football, painting, playing music. But I didn't know what I liked, or what I wanted to become. I felt lost and empty.

Many people buy cars without first considering an important question: "Do I have a place to park?"