I thought it was going to be a plain, boring day—six hours in a taxi, two hours on a plane, and then another 50 minutes to reach my new stay in Hội An, hoping for a bit of wandering before crashing into bed.

It’s 15:36. Mattia is back in Ho Chi Minh and has already passed the security check at Tân Sơn Nhất International Airport. Just a bit more than a couple of hours until the 5:50 PM flight to Đồng Hới.

Picture Mattia sitting on the classic airport seat, organizing the pickup via WhatsApp with the people at the homestay. Now take it one step further—imagine Mattia’s face when he reads: “You are going to Đồng Hới. Not Đà Nẵng Airport,” only to realize that Đồng Hới is five hours away from the hotel by car. Remember the “despistado” thing I wrote about a few days ago? What better example?

Fast forward an hour: Mattia has booked another flight—this time to the right destination—rescued his bags that were about to board for Đồng Hới, dropped them off at the new counter, passed through security again, and is now waiting for a new flight at 18:40. Mattia is sitting at a table, grateful that Asian prices are way more affordable than European ones. Lunch has just arrived. Life is beautiful.

I still can’t figure out why I booked a flight to Đồng Hới, and I definitely would have written a very different story in this missive if things hadn’t unfolded so well. Probably just as funny—but a different one, for sure.

As you can imagine, I’m writing from Hội An (finally), and I'm about to crash into bed after taking literally fewer than 500 steps around the place. Gut-feeling-wise, I’m getting Riviera Adriatica vibes—but I’ll save any judgment for tomorrow.

Right now, I need to sleep.

Till tomorrow,
— M