It’s about 14:00 in Ho Chi Minh City when I write this article, so 8 in the morning back home and I’m sitting in a café, watching the city humming beneath me. Motorbikes coming and going to and from every direction like a living organism, providing the kind of soft chaos that somehow feels calming for my brain.
I haven’t really had the time to write in the past month, not because nothing was happening, but because too much was. I got swept up in work, new clients, new routines and the everyday discoveries that made me forget my blog actually exists. When you spend your mornings boxing, your afternoons on calls and the rest of your days or weeks exploring Vietnam, writing naturally falls to the bottom of the list. But today is a nice Sunday and it felt like the right moment to pause, breathe, look down at this wild city and finally catch you up on what’s been happening.
Turned down full time job offers and moved to Asia for the winter
In the span of the last 2 weeks of October, I somehow ended up with two solid offers on my table, one Operations Manager role and one Head of Marketing role. I felt grateful, because these 2 offers came along with many rejections and a sour taste of what’s going on at the job market currently. Seriously, the amount of lowballing and you are not old enough (like I’m 31 ffs) feedbacks made me question my own capabilities. So these 2 offers, both good opportunities, both perfectly respectable and both perfectly safe. But neither felt like the opportunity. After ten years in the corporate world, I’ve learned there’s a big difference between accepting a job because it’s available and choosing one because it aligns with where you’re actually heading. I came clear with myself, right now I’m building something different: space, clarity and direction that isn’t tied to a 9–5 calendar invite system.
Saying no felt uncomfortable at first, like rejection in reverse always does, but it ended up being a pretty important decision of this whole winter arc. And that’s how I ended up on a plane to Asia again, instead of in another onboarding meeting.
“Digital nomad” apparently
Somewhere along the way, without planning it, I slid into the “digital nomad” category, though I still refuse to use that label unironically. What actually happened is simpler: I onboarded three new clients of my own and on top of that, joined a business development collective where I’m becoming a trusted partner rather than just another freelancer in the spreadsheet for another bOuTiQuE aGeNCy. It’s a different kind of work-life rhythm with less structure and more ownership, or I should frame it like this: less noise, more value.
Unexpected upgrade: four months sober
Another important thing to mention is the fact that I haven’t had a drink since the 13rd of August and beside drinks nothing else since mid-July. What started as a “let’s take a short break” turned into one of the biggest upgrades of this whole winter. I didn’t plan it, I didn’t announce it, I didn’t read a book about it, I just stopped and then kept not drinking. Nowadays my mind feels sharper, my thoughts cleaner, my decisions less clouded. Sleep is better than ever, I actually wake up with energy instead of negotiating with my alarm like it’s a hostage situation. What surprised me most is the zero FOMO. Not drinking didn’t make my social life smaller, it just gave it more quality. You become more selective, more intentional and way more present, conversations feel better and mornings feel even better. Yeah, life feels better.
Being sober in your early 30s hits differently. There’s a point where you stop chasing blurry nights and start valuing sharp days. I was already kind of athletic before this sober stretch, but the change has been dramatic. I ran 100 km in a month at a pace I never thought I could hold and suddenly a 15 km run, something that once felt completely out of reach, became just another solid morning.
Boxing as therapy and discipline
Boxing became my anchor this year, a routine built on sweat, structure, humility and consistency. There’s something grounding about starting the day by getting punched (lightly) and pushed (not so lightly). It forces you into your body, out of your head and fully into the present moment.
A big thank you goes to Phong in Hanoi. I didn’t just find a great boxing coach, but I met a great lad with endless patience and energy. He pushed me, corrected me, believed in me and somehow made morning padwork feel like a privilege instead of punishment. I’m genuinely grateful for that chapter. I hope some day we’ll meet again, mate. Now comes the next step: finding a gym in Ho Chi Minh City that gives me even a fraction of that energy.
Disconnecting from home: no news, no meaningless noise
At the very first days of my Vietnam spell, I decided to stop reading Hungarian and European news altogether. No politics, no scandals, no economic forecasts, no “here’s why everything is collapsing again” headlines. My mental health sends its warmest regards. It’s incredible how much lighter life feels when you’re not constantly plugged into a cycle of negativity you can’t influence. Distance creates space to think, to focus, to build, to actually live your own life instead of absorbing everyone else’s anxiety. The world didn’t fall apart because I wasn’t refreshing the news, instead of that it feels noticeably better.
Hanoi: my pho heaven era
For more than a month in Hanoi, I lived exactly 20 meters from what is objectively the best pho shop in the city. Not “one of the best.” The best. The kind of place where the broth tastes like someone’s grandmother has been perfecting it since before I was born and the huge 7 AM queue already tells you everything you need to know.
I have actually chose a completely local neighborhood to stay instead of the usual white-people expat zones and it turned out to be one of my best decisions. No avocado-toast cafés, no overpriced lattes, no digital-nomad co-working bullshit. Just the real Hanoi: noisy, friendly, chaotic streets, where people look at you in a very curious way, kids running up to you for high fives and someone is always cooking something incredible within a five-meter radius.
Pho quickly turned into almost a daily ritual, not out of obsession, but because it just made sense. It was the easiest, cleanest, most satisfying meal I could put my hands on. Some days it was breakfast, some days lunch, some days both, no shame. Pho is one of the most underrated “healthy travel foods” out there: light broth, lean meat, fresh herbs, zero heavy oils and enough salt to bring you back to life after a long morning run or boxing session. Living that close to truly great pho felt like a cheat code. Now that I’m in the south, I realise how spoiled I was.
Another dish deserves a mention from the north, it’s called bún chá. Grilled pork in fish soup, often served with deep fried rolls. Not the healthiest choice, but the taste, dios mio.
Cao Bang loop and my questionable driving license
My motorbike journey technically started in the Ninh Binh area, where I rented a bike purely out of curiosity. I just wanted to try it, see how it feels. Turned out it felt great, easy, convenient and weirdly liberating. The classic “when in Rome” moment. You are in Vietnam, you get on a bike, you pretend you know what you’re doing.
But the Cao Bang Loop is a completely different game. Four hundred kilometers across steep mountain roads of northern Vietnam, near the Chinese border (heck, even my phone switched time-zones!), switchbacks, fog and entire stretches without a single public light after sunset. It’s beautiful, the kind of beauty that makes you forget to breathe, but it also keeps your adrenaline at a healthy 8/10 the entire time. I’m genuinely grateful that both me and the bike made it back in one piece. Fear of driving beaten, confidence earned.
As for the license situation… let’s say Vietnam operates on a practical understanding of reality. A “don’t ask, don’t tell, keep 500k VND in your passport just in case the police stops you” system and it works. I didn’t expect it, but riding through northern Vietnam became one of the highlights of this winter. It showed me I’m capable of more than I give myself credit for, even when the odds (and the road conditions) are questionable at best.
Vietnamese coffee, a different animal
Vietnamese coffee isn’t coffee, it’s a controlled substance with branding. Back home I can drink three coffees a day without any drama. But in Vietnam? After my third cup, I’m basically seeing the future 60 seconds ahead and my heart starts typing emails I haven’t even thought about yet. It’s that level of intensity where you suddenly understand every motorbike driver in Hanoi on a spiritual level, so 2 cups is the safe zone. Anything after 3 PM is a one-way ticket to staring at the ceiling until 4 AM.
There is a reason behind the madness: Vietnam uses robusta beans, which naturally contain almost double the caffeine of arabica. Add the traditional slow-drip phin filter, which extracts every last molecule of strength and you get a brew that feels like it was engineered to wake up the entire country. Feels like? Hell yeah, it was engineered to do so.
I’m usually a black-coffee-no-sugar person, because it’s minimal, clean and straightforward, but Vietnam humbled me, because egg coffee has become my unexpected obsession. It’s rich, silky, slightly sweet and honestly more like a dessert that happens to be caffeinated. Sitting in a tiny Hanoi café with a warm egg coffee feels like being wrapped in a caffeinated hug. Vietnam runs on coffee like me, but I have strict dosage limits.
What’s next?
I do not know. Currently I’m enjoying South-Vietnam and the perfect summer weather and I’m content with my life. I haven’t been to the Philippines or Indonesia yet though and I’ve got time plus an alarming curiosity for both white-sand beaches and climbing volcanoes. So yes, hopefully both, ideally without becoming a documentary about what not to do abroad.
The only actually scheduled events in my life are the World Cup (guess who got tickets!) and my sister’s wedding next August. Which means that at some point I’ll have to navigate my way from Asia to Guadalajara (yay), then magically reappear in Hungary, because that wedding is a strict, non-negotiable event in my calendar. Yet, I can feel myself slowly drifting into the “world-traveller uncle” archetype, the one who shows up twice a year with strange stories, questionable romantic detours and healthier and fitter than ever.
We’ll see where winter sends me.
Until then I wish Merry Christmas to all who read my thoughts.
