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Upon initial arrival in Vietnam, one is hit with sensory overload, from new sights, smells, sounds and yes, even touch; an introvert’s fever dream. Ho Chi Minh city is home to over 8 million people, that number is enough to induce anxiety in even the most zen of us all. The hustle and bustle of the tiny hems (small streets) wander on for what feels like miles, meandering through the city, filled with animal markets where you can find live frogs for sale and fish flexing their bodies back and forth in just enough water to keep them alive. Mountains of fresh baguettes fill the store fronts, almost as if a reminder of the French Colonial past, ready for consumption during the banh mi lunch rush. As you roam further into the depths of these hems, men are perched on tiny chairs, downing the strongest ca phe da, engaging in conversation with fervor whilst chain smoking. Wandering deeper into the labyrinth-like streets, echoes of karaoke can be heard at all hours of the day, the noise traveling and filling the hems with old war ballads and the occasional Celine Dion love song. As clouds of smoke hover over bbq vendors, the smell of caramelized pork hits your nostrils almost instantly, causing hunger and making you question how long you’ve been sauntering through the hems of the immense city. The maze of streets acts as a vortex and time becomes a nonentity as you get lost further and further into its depths. The ring of a school bell lets you know it may be nearing lunchtime and the laughter of children echoes against the walls. Children can be seen playing in the brightly painted schoolyard, while teachers sternly watch from a distance, clutching onto whistles and books. Motorbikes and scooters zoom by, moving in as one through the streets like a stream of water, unbreakable in its uniformity. Crossing through this can be quite daunting at first, I myself spent a good few days circling the block before mustering up the courage to take on this deathly challenge. However, much like the hems of this city, the traffic just flows around you, as steady as ever, some drivers even resorting to driving on the sidewalk to avoid pedestrians. As lunch time nears, the hem’s local banh mi seller sets up her stall as she waits for her hungry customers. She lights up her portable gas stove and opens up containers of pickled vegetables and sliced onions, ready to be fried. Freshly baked baguettes overflow a basket hooked onto her mobile stall and eggs are packed carefully alongside them. One by one, customers start to pull up on their bikes, placing their orders. Nestled in the heart among the chaos of the streets, lies a quaint pho spot, appropriately named with numbers in it. As you walk in, you’re greeted by three generations of women who run the little pho restaurant, all working tirelessly, preparing the recipe that has been in their family for generations. Pho has been compared to a lot of things but my favourite analogy remains to be that the warm broth is “a hug in a bowl”. When the sights, sounds and smells of the city becomes overwhelming, a bowl of pho can provide comfort, because in that moment, even if for only that moment, you’re able to exhale and savour what this family has spent decades perfecting. Pho is regarded as the national dish of Vietnam, and in many aspects reflects the history and culture of the country through the decades. A single bowl of pho tells the story of creativity, resourcefulness and influence, taking you on a journey with every slirp of broth. The power of a modest bowl of pho boasts a quiet and still sanctuary amidst the chaotic disarray. Ho Chi Minh city offers what feels like endless streets with countless food vendors, markets, stalls, temples, schools and motorbikes, making everyday its own story with a unique adventure. Just when this beautifully chaotic city feels like it may be too much and you’re lost in time, a bowl of pho can bring you back, allowing you to feel absolute mindfulness with its warm, delicious embrace.