Leaving France to Live in Nha Trang: A Life-Changing Experience

Introduction – From Bordeaux to the South China Sea

Quitting France was not an impulsive decision. It was the result of years of questioning my identity, my routine, and my place in the world. After growing up in Bordeaux, living in Bangkok and Ho Chi Minh City, I chose to settle in Nha Trang—a coastal city in Central Vietnam, not far from the Saigon River. This article is not a travel guide. It’s the story of a transition, a reconnection, and a transformation. A personal reverie turned into reality—for Vietnam, but also for myself.

Why I Left France

Life in France was structured, familiar, and secure. But it often felt distant from who I really was. As a French citizen of Vietnamese origin, adopted at a young age, I carried unanswered questions. Despite all the comfort and cultural wealth of France, something essential was missing: a sense of alignment. I needed to be closer to Vietnam—not just through visits, but by living and breathing its rhythms.

I wanted to reconnect with the history of French-Indochina, understand the legacy of the Vietnam War, and live in a place that echoed both North and South. From the era of the Vietcong and guerrilla warfare to the Geneva Accords, Soviet Union alliances, and prime-minister decisions, I needed to understand what shaped the identity of modern Viet Nam. From mausoleums to political revolutions, from the revolutionary role of women to the surrender of Saigon, I sought answers. Even now, Vietnam Airlines flights to major cities remind me how much the country has evolved—and how far I’ve come.

Understanding the Reunification of the country—from the Republic of Vietnam to the Socialist Republic of Vietnam—meant studying the rise of the Communist Party, the role of the Viet Minh, and the transition from Northern Vietnam ideologies to a unified Southeast-Asian vision. I explored French colonial influence, the modern Vietnamese government structure, and the impact of the Democratic Republic. I visited the Notre-Dame Cathedral, now surrounded by both rooftop bars and historic remnants of the past. The Opera House, Centre Hotel and Riverside Hotel stood as both symbols of culture and reminders of war.

To comprehend the consequences of the Indochina War, the American War, the Tet Offensive, the bombing campaigns, and the political role of leaders like the emperor and Ngo Dinh Diem, I dug into archives on the Wayback Machine. There I found traces of provisional governments, proclamations, anti-war publications, and reflections from former allied nations. The transition from Diem to the fall of Saigon was marked by civilian displacement, cultural shifts, and the strength of the Vietnamese army. I researched the Ho Chi Minh Trail, cyclo transport, and strategic landmarks to better understand the country's geography of resistance, including the Gulf of Tonkin incident and World-War contexts. From aggression to diplomacy, the dualities of war and peace shaped Vietnamese culture in profound ways.

Discovering Nha Trang

Nha Trang is more than a beach destination. It’s a city with its own soul. Unlike the chaos of city airport life in Ho Chi Minh City, Nha Trang offers a more peaceful, human-sized environment.

I found myself visiting pagodas and temples, including Buddhist shrines, riding motorbikes through local wards and urban districts, and observing daily life in boutique hotels, markets, and cafés. From the seafront to international schools and high schools, from luxury spas and hotel spas to traditional noodle stalls, the city blends the old with the new. The influence of Khmer and Cambodian heritage is visible throughout.

Each day, I’d take a food tour, explore cultural sights, or wander near the Central Hotel where tourists and locals gather. The best things in life felt suddenly tangible. The hostels were buzzing, the art scene thriving, and travelers from all over Asia and Europe would exchange dollars, USD in hand, dreaming of the next destination.

Pho on street-food corners, taxis weaving between wards, and expats debating history over coffee made up daily life. From the Mekong River to the Mekong Delta, from the streets of Hue to the museums of Da Nang, and into Laos, Lao Cai and Phnom, the journeys deepened my connection to Southeast Asia. I traveled like a local on expressways and buses to nearby provinces such as Vung Tau. My morning walks often began within walking distance of food stalls, and ended with quiet views to the city skyline filled with skyscrapers and nightlife along the boulevards.

Everyday Life and Cultural Immersion

Living in Vietnam meant a profound shift. I rented a small serviced apartment close to the city-centre with free Wi-Fi. Luxury hotels, budget hotels, and city hotels surrounded me. I found myself chatting in Vietnamese with Vietnamese people, negotiating in dong, yen, and USD, and choosing between a simple bánh mì or a restaurant buffet with diverse breakfast options.

From visiting the capital of Vietnam, Hanoi, to planning private tours in Ha Long Bay, every moment added depth to my experience. Whether it was a quick flight via Vietnam Airlines or a road trip to Halong, each destination revealed more. I traveled as a foodie, eager to taste regional Vietnamese food and explore culinary contrasts.

I frequented local museums, including the History Museum, which explored Vietnam’s transformation from colonization to FDI-driven modernity. I learned about the official name of Vietnam, visa-on-arrival procedures, and how living in Vietnam as a foreigner requires both patience and passion. I also visited the embassy and consulate-general for administrative processes, and met civil servants working for the Government of Vietnam and the National Assembly. Accommodations ranged from modern hotels to homestays offering cultural exchange. The check-in process was often documented through Shutterstock-style travel journals.

Challenges and Growth

Adapting wasn’t without its trials. Administrative formalities at the international airport, visa-on-arrival delays, or visits to consulates required persistence. But the journey was rewarding. I met nationalists, communists, and open-minded thinkers debating the war in Vietnam and its global impact. I reflected on the ideology of communism, the goals of the Politburo, and the role of foreigners and allies in shaping both conflict and peace.

The Cu Chi Tunnels were more than a tourist site; walking through those tunnels, I felt the weight of both fear and resistance. From Dien Bien Phu to the Central Post Office, from the Fine Arts Museum to puppet shows and water puppet theatre, Vietnam’s history spoke through symbolism. I visited mausoleums and war sites that connected events from the past to today’s cultural consciousness. At Ben Thanh Market and the area surrounding Ben Thanh, I observed how everyday life reflects both deep tradition and modern transformation. The Presidential Palace, still emblematic of the surrender, remains a monument of reflection. Many structures, once symbols of colonialism or war, were now demolished and replaced by expressions of Vietnamese culture.

Conclusion – A New Chapter, Rooted in the Present

Leaving France to live in Nha Trang wasn’t a form of escape—it was a return. A return to sensations, to simplicity, to what matters. I found in Vietnam a place to rebuild not only my daily life but my story.

Here, I’m not torn between East and West—I am both. From Halong Bay adventures to pagoda visits, from motorbike rides to learning about the revolutionary history of this land, I finally feel at home. This isn’t just my expat experience—it’s my liberation. My time in Vietnam has become the cornerstone of my rediscovery.