I trade the early morning wake-up for a solid eight hours of sleep. As the trip enters its last chapter, I’d rather be energized than add a few sunrise photos. I want to take it easy today.

At breakfast, I sit by the lakeside and open the book that’s been collecting dust over the past few days. And it immediately serves up a point of view that feels so relevant to my current feelings about “old towns”:

Supermodernity produces non-places, meaning spaces which are not themselves anthropological places and which..do not integrate the earlier places: instead these are listed, classified, promoted to the status of “places of memory”, and assigned to a circumscribed and specific position.

I head to a hidden pagoda recommended by ChatGPT—it seems there’s an old Bái Đính temple area that’s not on the tourist maps, in contrast to the massive new Chùa Bái Đính complex, where tourists are being directed. In fact, when I arrive at the location suggested by ChatGPT, I struggle to find the temple, and when I ask some farmers, they point me toward the new complex. Luckily, I don’t give up so easily and venture uphill on a brick road that leads into the greenwood. No one is there, and it’s a bit spooky—kind of similar to the feeling I had at the abandoned resorts. But this time there’s a camera and a constant beep, probably informing someone that I’m poking around the small pagoda.

After a while, I walk back and sit down under a tree. The plan was to continue reading, but I quickly check the NBA app to see if the Warriors won—and there are 1:49 minutes left in the game, with Golden State up by 1 point. What an unexpected place to watch the final, nervous minutes of a match.

I briefly drive to the Chùa Bái Đính complex because I naively thought it might be interesting, but from the outside, everything is screaming “tourist land,” and I’d rather spend my time differently. Like driving around the rice fields, for example.

Looking at the sidelines, I start to notice a pattern: there are groups of field workers sitting on the side of the road, chatting and chilling. What better situation for a stop-by?

When I get closer to one group, I show the camera to ask permission to approach. They start smiling and invite me to sit with them. They’re super curious, have a lot of questions, and are happy to have a Google Translate conversation. At some point, a scooter stops by and a woman hands out envelopes—it’s payday.

After a while, I decide to move on with the goal of catching some golden hour light at the Bích Động Pagoda. As suggested by my AI fixer, after 16:30 the place starts to empty out, and even if it officially closes, it’s still possible to linger and witness a glimpse of monastic life. At the end of the day, photography is a matter of patience. I had a tourist photobomb a nice composition with a monk walking down the stairs, so I decided to wait for another chance—something that happens once has a good chance of happening again. Luckily, fortune rewards patience.

I head out of the area and find another tiny, empty pagoda where the light is doing wonders. And then, my masterpiece for the day.

I have the great idea of climbing 500 steps, only to discover how amazing the view would have been a couple of hours earlier. I’ve literally never been so tired and sweaty in my entire life. The wild goats on the stairs seem to be handling all that climbing way better.

Now I’m here—last night in Ninh Binh—booking the transfer to the train station. Tomorrow: time for the 50-year unification celebration in Hanoi.

Till tomorrow,
— M