Exploring Saigon and Beyond - Saigoneer

Inside a Saigon Studio Bringing Lion Dance Costumes to Life

2026-09-19T11:00:00+07:00

“This passion for lions is in our blood. Many, many kids in the past dropped out of school or quit work just to go,” said Bành Chí Hùng, owner of Saigon’s Thuận Anh Hãng lion dance costume studio.

Unlike in the central region, where múa lân (lion dances) are most associated with the Mid-Autumn Festival, in Saigon they tend to be biggest during Tết. Still, the weeks leading up to the fall holiday keep him quite busy. Nearly all his waking hours are occupied by completing orders. Amidst this packed schedule, he invited Saigoneer to his Bình Hưng Hòa ward home studio to witness the process and some of the traditions lost.

Hùng (right) works alongside his team on the ground floor of his home, where nearly every wall and corner is occupied by lions.

Bamboo, rattan, and wire are meticulously assembled for the head’s frame before rice paper is glued on and left to harden before being hand-painted. The entire process takes up to five days, with another two required for the costume’s body. In total, they sell for VND5–7 million to buyers throughout the city and country, as well as overseas to France, the US, Malaysia, Singapore, Hong Kong, Thailand, and elsewhere.

Careful planning and frame construction are essential to ensure the final lion meets client expectations.

Once the surface is completely dry, the color is added by hand.

Having spent practically his entire life surrounded by múa lân, Hùng has been able to observe trends and preferences in design shifts along with improvements in material quality. Newer lion head models have much lighter frames that are easier to lift. New glues are easier to paint on and thus allow for more intricate details and a wider range of vibrant colors. An influx of foreign influences has added Malay, Chinese, and Hong Kong patterns as well as facial features. But for Hùng, not everything new is better. “I prefer the traditional one more. The traditional one, looking at it, gives you a vintage lion feel.”

New designs are more colorful and complex than those Hùng grew up with.

While he has his preferences, Hùng must acquiesce to customer requests which can include new elements like stainless steel teeth and horns, and LED lights. One consistent feature remains, however, in the importance of the eye-dot. On an auspicious day, Hùng and his team make offerings and perform the dotting the pupil in the center of the eye. Anyone can take a lion home, but before it is truly ready for a dancing performance, especially in the south, it must receive the ceremony to ensure it has “spiritual energy, the soul.”

A head awaiting its important eye dot.

Completed heads ready to be delivered to customers.

“If my stuff is beautiful, people will copy it. If they see my stuff isn't beautiful, who would bother copying it?” quipped Hùng when surrounded by the colorful lion heads and costumes he has been making for nearly three decades. “The more people learn, the more people copy, the more valuable I am. Thanks to that, I must be proud of what makes you jealous of me, right?” he said with the confidence one deserves after international prizes and more annual orders than he can process.

While overshadowed by the lions, Ông Địa plays a crucial role in all performances and Hùng makes these masks as well.

Hùng makes somewhat traditional and more experimental versions.

While Hùng is one of the city’s most revered lion-head craftsmen, it wasn’t creating the costumes that first drew him in: “Honestly, when I was small, whenever I heard the drum beat, I would run out to watch. It's always been like that at home, hearing the drum beat, running out into the street to see where the drum was, where they were dancing.” His first and true passion is múa lân. After performing for many years, he began making costumes to use himself as mentored by previous generations. As he’s gotten too old to perform now, he focuses solely on crafting them as his business.

Performers nowadays rise to platforms far taller than in the past.

In the olden days, múa lân was a more creative, unique undertaking. “In the past, everyone had their own style. Now it's an international style,” with all teams in competitions and performances performing “the exact same routine.”

While they take the art seriously, the performers are not preparing for a fight.

As well as a standardization of rhythms and dance steps and an increase in the height of dance platforms, múa lân has lost a rambunctious violence that was once associated with it. Hùng explained that teams in a competition wouldn’t always be content to settle the matter through dance alone. “Two lion teams would meet, the drummers would hype things up, and they would fight — literally brawling. But if they played a respectful bowing drum cadence, both sides would bow to each other politely, and nothing would happen,” he said with a clear fondness for the rowdy moments. With a wistful tone he added, “All those brawls happened back then, but now they're gone. Today, official permits are even issued for sanctioned competitions.”

While it's just practice, the heights remain real and dangerous.

While Hùng’s costumes are frequently used in international competitions, they are also used for the year-round ceremonies that accompany grand openings, weddings, and other celebrations. The groups that perform these must be ready at any time if hired and thus practice year-round to remain ready.

Without crowds, the practice sessions lack pomp, circumstance and glamor.

After numerous rainouts, we were finally fortunate enough to watch the team practice. Watch some shots of the team in action below:

How Laos's Dams Are Powering Vietnam, Other ASEAN Nations Despite Mekong Concerns

2026-09-18T14:00:00+07:00

Following a spate of foreign investment in the 1990s, Laos began producing surplus electricity and looked to export it. Today, around 80% of its energy, largely from hydropower, is sold to neighbors. Electricity exports from Laos generate around US$2.6 billion for what is one of the poorest nations in mainland Southeast Asia. Across the region, neighbors including Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, Singapore and Malaysia have become reliant on hydropower from Laos. Slowly but surely, however, this is changing.

Laos’ hydropower exports are facing increasing competition from non-hydro renewable energy and wider changes in the region’s power sector. Growing investment in non-hydro renewables and the first steps towards a regional power grid are beginning to change both the nature of that reliance and what it means for Laos to be the “Battery of Southeast Asia”.

The environmental and social effects of hydropower, particularly on biodiversity and local fisheries throughout the Greater Mekong Region, also continues to loom large on the future of hydropower in the region.

Thailand: Buying the battery

Thailand is the most prolific importer of power from Laos, making it the main driver of the latter’s power export ambitions. But Thai civil society organizations are also key opponents of large dam projects.

The Thailand-built Xayaburi Dam in north-west Laos, which began operations in 2019 with a generating capacity of nearly 1.3 gigawatts (GW), was the first Mekong mainstream hydropower project in the country and remains one of its largest. The dam had been mired in controversy during its construction due to a lack of transparency about its potential environmental and social impacts.

Thai villagers protesting against dams on the Mekong, with several placards mentioning Xayaburi. Critics have highlighted the adverse effects of the dam, one of Laos’s largest projects, on the river’s downstream biodiversity. Photo by Apichart Weerawong / Associated Press / Alamy.

But for local communities, the impacts are clear. Critics of the first “mega-dam” have cited adverse effects on downstream fisheries and the reduction of nutrient-rich sediment needed for the river’s biodiversity. They also raise concern about hydropeaking — sudden and artificial releases of water to meet short-term peaks in electricity demand — that affects riparian animals such as beach-nesting birds.

Since Xayaburi’s operations began, several hydropower dams have been planned for the Mekong. Key among them is the 1.5 GW dam near Unesco World Heritage site Luang Prabang, set to come online in 2030. Experts fear construction of the dam could lead to revocation of the site’s status.

Thailand has a dynamic environmental civil society space. The Sanakham dam project, for instance, 2 kilometers from the Thai border in Laos, has drawn criticism from groups for ecological threats. Other dams such as Pak Beng and Pak Lay, which Thailand have significant stakes in, have faced opposition as well as allegations of contentious studies and consultations.

Thailand is the largest investor in Lao hydropower projects. The driving force behind these deals are Power Purchase Agreements (PPAs) promising that Thailand will buy energy from the dams once completed. For years, however, organizations such as the Mekong People’s Network and Fair Finance Thailand have fought the construction of new dams and pushed back against PPAs. NGOs and researchers have called the dams a “false climate solution.”

A solar farm in central Thailand. The country is pushing for large solar projects and mass rooftop solar installations to shift away from liquefied natural gas and protect itself against price volatility. Photo by Thattaphon Sukborwornophat / Alamy.

Even with its big stakes in Lao hydropower, however, Thailand is beginning to invest heavily in solar. This is primarily to guard against rising prices of imported liquefied natural gas (LNG), the country’s primary source of energy, from external shocks like the Strait of Hormuz crisis. In September 2026, it announced a drive to install 5 GW of rooftop solar within a year for this purpose. In its draft Power Development Plan 2026, nearly half of all its new renewable capacity between 2026 and 2037, totalling nearly 51 GW, is planned to come from solar.

Vietnam: A new type of battery

Power needs in Vietnam are surging, driven largely by the manufacturing sector. In March 2026, at the height of the dry season, Vietnam’s electricity consumption reached 1 billion kilowatt-hours (kWh), months earlier than in previous years. By May, this reached 1.1 billion kWh, and authorities issued orders to maintain stable electricity supply through measures including importing more electricity from Laos and China. In the first quarter of 2026, energy imports from Laos grew nearly 120% compared to the same period in 2025.

In 2025, Vietnam imported roughly 1.5 GW of power from Laos, much of which was hydropower. As part of its revised PDP, released that same year, it aims to increase energy imports from Laos to at least 8 GW by 2030, up from 5 GW in the PDP published in 2023.

Together with Laos, Vietnam is actively increasing the interconnectivity infrastructure, contributing to the dream of connecting the grids of all countries in Southeast Asia. The latest project connecting the two countries is expected to be a 75-kilometer transmission line linking the Nam Nha Hydropower Complex in Houaphanh Province, north-eastern Laos, to the Vietnam border.

While hydropower will still be a key source of Vietnam’s energy imports from Laos, wind projects look set to comprise an increasingly significant share. Monsoon, Southeast Asia’s first cross-border wind project, began sending power to Vietnam in the latter half of 2025. The project, located in Laos’s Sekong and Attapeu provinces, produces 600 MW, which goes to its neighbor through a high-capacity 500-kV transmission line.

Wind and solar farms in southern Vietnam. While the country has started importing wind power from Laos, it is also trying to increase its own renewable generation capacity. Photo by Thinh Doan / Dialogue Earth.

More Lao wind energy import projects are on the horizon. Danish renewables investment firm Copenhagen Infrastructure Partners and Vietnamese developer Fecon have proposed a 1 GW onshore wind project in Savannakhet Province in southern Laos, mainly intended to power manufacturing hubs in Vietnam.

Vietnam’s revised PDP has increased the country’s ambitions for its own non-hydro renewable generation. Compared to its 2023 targets of producing around 43 GW from solar, wind and biomass by 2030, the revised PDP raises this figure to at least 75 GW.

Cambodia: Future for the grid

Cambodia has had difficulty powering rapid urbanization. Unplanned growth in cities like Phnom Penh and Sihanoukville has left authorities scrambling to keep pace with energy demand, which in 2025 increased by around 14% nationwide from the year before. Energy security has been helped by increases in solar, but the country still struggles with reliable energy, further strained by factors like the Strait of Hormuz crisis which has led to volatile prices of imported fuel.

Cambodia imports around 200 MW of hydropower from the Don Sahong Dam in Laos, controversial for its impacts on downstream fisheries and the endangered Irrawaddy dolphin. Cambodian civil society organizations have long pushed back against hydropower projects in the country and region. In 2020, the country implemented a 10-year ban on new dam projects on its mainstream Mekong, citing a need to diversify energy sources.

The Don Sahong Dam on the Mekong, right before it flows into Cambodia. The country imports 200 MW of hydropower from this dam, controversial for its impacts on downstream fisheries and the endangered Irrawaddy dolphin. Photo by Andy Ball / Dialogue Earth.

In the long run, Cambodia aims to continue importing power from Laos at a stable level, according to its Power Development Plan of 2022. This is expected to increase to around 3 GW by 2030 and remain the same until 2040.

But it hopes to eventually expand power sharing with Laos through one of the region’s most ambitious plans: a power grid connecting the member states of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN). The initiative, which has been in the works since 1997, is a plan to eventually share energy across all members of the bloc, in both mainland and maritime Southeast Asia. In May 2026, the Asean Centre for Energy, Electricité du Cambodge and Electricité du Laos signed a joint study framework to advance cross-border connections, as part of a phased approach to advancing the Asean Power Grid. The framework involves collaboration on technical assessments, economic analysis and preliminary environmental assessments for future projects.

Laos and Cambodia took a major step towards regional grid interconnectivity in 2023 when they launched a high-capacity China-built 500-kilovolt transmission line linking a substation in Champasak Province in south-western Laos to its border with Cambodia.

Malaysia and Singapore: End of the line?

Neither Malaysia nor Singapore share a border with Laos, so the Laos-Thailand-Malaysia-Singapore Power Integration Project (LTMS-PIP), launched in 2022, has been hailed as a broad advancement for the Asean Power Grid.

From Laos, energy largely created by hydropower is sent through Thailand, which acts as a “wheeler” country to send electricity through to Malaysia and subsequently Singapore. The city-state began importing 100 MW from this system in 2022, making the LTMS-PIP’s first multilateral cross-border electricity trade through four ASEAN countries — all from Laos’s hydropower dams.

The capacity of tradable electricity was increased to 200 MW in the project’s second phase, launched in January 2026. This phase introduced multidirectional electricity trading, with Singapore importing the additional 100 MW from Malaysia.

Imported hydropower from Laos is part of how Singapore seeks to achieve its climate goals, but experts have raised concerns about the environmental impacts of Lao and Mekong dams, noting that it is more than just counting carbon.

Malaysia has started exporting power to Singapore through the Laos-Thailand-Malaysia-Singapore Power Integration Project, the first multilateral and multidirectional cross-border electricity trade through four Asean countries. Photo by Stephen Browne / Alamy.

Nevertheless, Singapore’s energy needs are helping to drive the Asean Power Grid ever further as the Sarawak-to-Singapore undersea connection is expected to have some engineering design studies complete by end-2026. The hydropower produced for export will come from Malaysian Borneo, with the project estimated to transmit a proposed 1 GW of energy by around 2035.

China: The battery’s builder

In April, the China-Laos cross-border power transmission line began operations, opening China’s domestic electricity market to Laos’s renewable energy generators. But Chinese involvement in Laos’s hydropower sector stretches back two decades. Today, many of Laos’s planned and completed Mekong mainstream hydropower dams have some involvement from Chinese companies, from ownership to loans and development at different levels. Major dam projects, like Pak Beng and Sanakham, cost at least US$2 billion each to build and are majority-owned by Chinese companies, while others like Don Sahong and Pak Lay have Chinese infrastructure developers.

Chinese companies have also helped build big dam projects on Mekong tributaries, such as the Nam Ou hydropower cascade, as well as non-hydro renewable projects like the 1 GW Oudomxay Solar Farm, the largest in Southeast Asia.

The Luang Prabang dam project, one of the few Lao dams with no Chinese involvement. Many of Laos’s planned and completed Mekong mainstream dams have Chinese companies with part ownership or development at different levels. Photo by Richard Sowersby / Alamy.

China’s development of Laos’s domestic resources has led to some pushback. These include strategic multilateralism concerns from the US about regional influence, and public opposition to mega-project dams due to their environmental and social impacts. Legal disputes have also arisen related to dam projects developed by China. For instance, in 2025, state-owned company PowerChina sued Electricite du Laos for US$555 million in unpaid dues for the Nam Ou hydropower project, reported Reuters.

With more hydropower dams planned for the Mekong mainstream coinciding with promises to expand energy exports, non-hydro renewable energy and the potential ASEAN power grid, the Battery of Southeast Asia could look very different in the future.

This article is originally published by Dialogue Earth and has been republished with permission. Read the article on Dialogue Earth here.

A Pop-up Night Park Brings the Joy of Playing in the Rain to Phú Mỹ Hưng

2026-09-17T12:00:00+07:00

A lack of public spaces and activities has been a chronic problem plaguing Saigon’s urban planning since the city experienced its first population boom a few decades ago. If you happen to be near District 7 in the next two months, a pop-up park could be a new option for children, and perhaps some particularly exuberant adults, to frolic in the rain and the evening.

The temporary park installation project is simply called Night Park, or Công Viên Đêm in Vietnamese, designed by Saigon-based architecture firm Studio Anettai. Based in P2 Park of Tân Hưng Ward, the amenity is free to visit from 3pm to 8pm every day, September 4–November 1, 2026.

The creation of the project takes inspiration from Saigon’s tropical rain, which dominates the local climate every year during the six-month rainy season. Older Saigoneers remember the bouts of rain during their childhood fondly as a great opportunity to play around in the rain with neighborhood friends — a luxury that children growing up in the busy 2020s might not have.

The Night Park has two areas: Night Plaza and Rain Park. The latter was conceptualized specifically based on the joy of playing in the rain. It features a 20-meter-long structure designed to catch and filter rainwater to make it safe for children to play with. The kids can observe the entire process to learn how the water goes from droplets in the sky to the basin. While this water is not drinkable, it is safe to be loaded into hand pumps and splashed around with your best mates.

The Night Plaza is a simple section on the grass with seats and a collection of outdoor lamps specifically crafted for the installation by local designer mài (@mai.cuahang_). The lamps provide enough illumination for a cozy evening hangout, but not so glaring that it might be too harsh on the eyes.

During the two months of its stay, the Night Park will play host to two events: Water Evening (September 19) and Water in the City (October 3). Water Evening will take place in tandem with the Trung Thu celebration organized by Phú Mỹ Hưng, including a walk, a yoga session, and a lantern parade — the yoga activity requires prior registration and a fee.

Water in the City is an education workshop organized by Gieo Collective, that aims to “share stories of the Saigon River from their project ‘The River Tells Its Tales’ — the high tides, and the livelihoods that depend on the flood,” according to the Night Park website.

Visit the Night Park website for more details on the project and how to register for the aforementioned events.

Photos courtesy of Studio Anettai.

Bình Thạnh’s Best Budget-Friendly Off-Menu Bánh Mì by the Canal

2026-09-15T14:00:00+07:00

I trust the philosophy that, to find the best places to eat, look for those crowded with locals. Such logic would lead you to Xôi Thị Nghè near the five-way intersection close to Chợ Thị Nghè in the former Bình Thạnh District.

Bánh mì and xôi, breakfasts of champions.

Every morning, from sunrise until supplies run out by 10-ish, the street cart services an endless stream of people pulling over and ordering without dismounting from their motorbikes. The husband-and-wife team who operate the simple stall move as a seamless, synchronized pair; he fills styrofoam containers with sticky rice that she loads up with ordered toppings and returns to him to be handed to customers in exchange for money. It’s a study in efficiency borne from repetition, the success of which is measured in the number of plastic bags hanging from bike handles as they plunge back into nearby traffic.

A well-oiled machine

I’ve visited this cart more than any other in my life. A couple of times a week for the better part of a decade, I’ve sauntered into view, and they begin making my breakfast without so much as a word spoken. They see me and know. But despite it being a cart specializing in xôi, as its name attests to, that’s not what I’m there for. Long ago, a buddy of mine noticed they sell xôi gà xé and bánh mì xíu mại, so they should be able to make a bánh mi gà xá. He simply asked, and they named a price. I merely piggybacked onto the offering and have kept it up ever since.

Bread, pickles, cucumbers, mayo, cilantro, shredded chicken, a sprinkling of salt and MSG. There is no secret sauce; there is no magic preparation. The straightforward bánh mi is delicious in large part because of how basic and familiar it is. I also appreciate it for what it’s not: not greasy like bánh mi chả cá, messy like bánh mì xíu mại, or consisting of reconstituted gore à la thịt nguội. And at only VNS15,000, it’s not stuffed to the crust, though surely filling enough to keep a narrow-chest like me full until lunch.

Is there any better view to enjoy a street snack?

An extra perk of this xôi stand, and the reason I am recommending it now, is the location. Most customers are off to work, about to brave the congested exit onto Xô Viết Nghệ-Tĩnh to travel into District 1 or deeper into Bình Thạnh and beyond, but if you go the opposite way, you’ll encounter perhaps the best free seating in all Saigon. The zoo is just across the Nhiêu Lộc–Thị Nghè Canal, and the edge of the ward doesn’t suffer through traffic. Instead, the wide sidewalk with numerous benches becomes a sight of serenity enjoyed by dog walkers, dancers and coffee sippers. Sitting there with bread in hand, giraffe necks rising in the distance, is a unique pleasure made all the more special if you’re early enough to hear the gibbons calling.

Bánh mì? For me? Where?

Xôi Thị Nghè

2B Huỳnh Mẫn Đạt, Khu phố 3, Thạnh Mỹ Tây Ward, HCMC

In 1992 Vietnam, the Streets Were Brimming With Love and Life

2026-09-14T09:00:00+07:00

How has your life been transformed in the past 30 years? Changes might materialize overnight, but some tend to creep up on you at a glacial pace. Through this collection of images from 1992, mull over how Vietnam as a country has grown with every 12-month cycle.

These photographs were taken by travel writer Mark Hodson, who had a rare opportunity to tour Vietnam in the early 1990s when international tourism was virtually unheard of here. Without the presence of themed resorts, travel agents, cable cars and cruise boats, scenes in the country were captured as closely as possible to the quotidian life of locals.

A busy phở joint in Hanoi.

“I was using a Canon AE1 SLR, shooting on Fujichrome Velvia 50, mostly with a 50mm lens,” Hodson writes on his website about the trip. “I had prints made from the original transparencies, and what you see below are scans of those prints. I haven’t adjusted any of the coloring.”

Here are some glimpse of Hanoi, Hội An, and Nha Trang in the 1990s:

Fruit vendors set up shop in front of rows of old buildings in Hanoi.

The vast emptiness of Hanoi's airport, where Hodson was heading to “Vientiane aboard an ancient Russian-built Tupolev jet.”

A casual food street in Hanoi where one can slurp on porridge and instant noodles, or chew on a plate of hot xôi.

Sampans were often homes of families in Hạ Long. There wasn't any hotels in the area, so Hodson reported sleeping in a Russian workers' hostel.

Living on the water was much more common in 1992 than today.

Wood-fired inter-province coaches were quite unreliable and often broke down mid-trip.

The colonial design of Huế's train station.

An ice cream cart in Hội An.

The boats of Hội An.

In Đà Nẵng's Chợ Hàn, a grain merchant took a nap during slow periods of the day.

Fishmongers in Hội An with their catch of the day.

Boats in Hội An.

A dapper Hội An man posed for a photo.

It's corn! A big lump with knobs. It has the juice (it has the juice).

Cross-country trips were often truncated by rest stops and engine failures.

Xích lô drivers in Hội An.

A fiery cockfight in Nha Trang.

A Nha Trang resident and her morning fish haul.

5 Indie Bookstores in Saigon for Those Who Are Addicted to the Scent of Paper

2026-09-12T21:00:00+07:00

Most Saigoneers who spent their formative years in the 2000s and 2010s probably grew up amongst the aisles of bookstores, not because we were particularly bookaholic, but because they were pretty much the only third place around with free air-conditioning.

When I was growing up, coffee shops seemed more like places where adults conducted business deals, and I couldn’t afford them anyway. Tạp hóa corners could satisfy snack cravings, but had no seats, so before the advent of convenience stores, I sought solace in the brightly lit, paper-scented, somewhat dusty shelves of bookstores: FAHASA locations, Nguyễn Văn Cừ, Minh Khai, Xuân Thu, Cây Gõ, amongst others. Just simply being in close proximity to books sparked my first interest in reading — much love to the staff at my district FAHASA back then for seeing us on the floor engaging in intense đọc cọp and turning a blind eye.

In 2026, many major bookstore locations are facing a decline: in April, Cá Chép Bookstore bid farewell to readers after 13 years in the business and shuttered all locations; PNC also announced the closure of a 44-year-old location just last month. Changing consumer habits and rising operating costs were the most common reasons given.

Still, it might be too hasty yet to deduce that Saigoneers have stopped reading: they are still into books, but a new generation of readers has turned their attention to the more intimate and personalized book-shopping and reading experience at independent stores. The indie bookstores featured in this article each offer slightly different stock, but share some similarities: their presence is made known via word of mouth and social media reviews; and they seek to satisfy not only a need to buy books, but also a space to read them.

1. Pages of Passion

L6, 35 Nguyễn Văn Tráng, Bến Thành Ward, HCMC

Photo by Jimmy Art Devier.

Hidden on the sixth floor of an old apartment in central District 1, Pages of Passion is perhaps the most impressive entry on this list in terms of growth. Thảo and Huy, the store’s owners, started selling books online in 2024 as a passion side project to assuage their corporate burnout, but eventually quit their jobs to operate the physical store full-time. Since Saigoneer’s first visit in mid-2025, when the space only hosted shelves of new and gently used books, Pages of Passion has flourished into a mini community of book lovers, with a quiet cafe dedicated to reading and a small space for talks and workshops.

Pages of Passion focuses solely on English-language titles, and while you can find universally respected classics here, the owners do a sterling job curating both new and obscure titles, including a diverse Vietnam-specific section featuring works by Vietnamese authors or written about the country. Full disclosure: Pages of Passion has a small shelf housing titles that have been highlighted in the Saigoneer book review series Loạt Soạt. Check us out!

Photos by Jimmy Art Devier.

Read our interview with Pages of Passion here.

Contact: Website | Instagram

2. InBook

25A Nguyễn Bỉnh Khiêm, Sài Gòn Ward, HCMC

InBook had its start in Hanoi, and recently expanded to Saigon in the form of a two-floor space above a stylish cafe. Lan, the founder, studied in France and used to work on a few projects translating books from French into Vietnamese. She established InBook first as a way to introduce more children’s literature to her daughter, but the store’s library has slowly expanded over time.

The bookstore specializes in brand-new books written in French and English. My visit showed a sizable collection of literary classics and genre fiction, including YA, romance, and crime. The French section features a lot of children’s literature, too. If you’re in search of less-mainstream titles, InBook might not be a place to look, but I do appreciate that it also has a dedicated space for translated works of Vietnamese origin, as well as an area with free beverages to read. Besides, one shelf is reserved for “storekeeper’s picks” with thoughtful reviews that are handwritten — a cozy addition.

Contact: Website | Facebook

3. Bá Tân - Sách cũ Thư viện

451/22 Hai Bà Trưng, Xuân Hòa Ward, HCMC

Photos by Cao Nhân.

Bá Tân carries with it the towering book piles and nostalgic old-paper musk of the used bookstores of our childhood, but with a commendable level of organization and cleanliness. This is one location of a few that its founder Lê Bá Tân has tirelessly worked on for the past years. Tân majored in History in college and taught it for a few years; by complete chance, he inherited a friend’s substantial book collection and started posting photos of the titles to give away on social media. Queries from strangers began to come, so he answered the call of the universe by becoming a vintage book seller.

Photo by Cao Nhân.

The store focuses on used Vietnamese-language books, comprising two sections: one that sells by the kilos, and the other features “like new” gently used books. Bá Tân has one of the largest and most eclectic inventories of the list, with everything from rare first editions of literary classics to comic books and manga sets. The price is very affordable and the staff is knowledgeable, should you be looking for anything specific.

Photo by Cao Nhân.

Read our profile of Tiện sách Bá Tân here.

Contact: Website | Facebook

4. Hiệu sách Mùi Của Giấy

41 Street No. 9, Trung Sơn Residential Area, Bình Hưng Ward, HCMC

This bookstore has the most poetic name of the five: Mùi Của Giấy means “the scent of paper.” The book storage space can be a little claustrophobic, but is well-maintained and overall quite comfortable for browsing. The stock is mainly in Vietnamese though I did spot some new arrivals in English; it might be a bit hard to navigate the small space, but there’s a website of available titles and the two staff members are always happy to lend a hand. By “staff members,” I meant the human ones, because the feline staff is extremely illiterate — I give them a pass because they are so friendly and welcoming. For those who can’t wait to enjoy their latest finds, Mùi Của Giấy has space for reading and even a drink menu for refreshments. I’ve obtained their loyalty card and can’t wait to find out what five drink stamps or three book stamps would get me.

Contact: Facebook | Website

5. Emtrangtri Bookstore

451/50 Hai Bà Trưng, Xuân Hòa Ward, HCMC

I first discovered Emtrangtri on social media and thought the space looked cool, so I decided to pay it a visit. As I made the turn into the 451 alley, I quickly realized that it was based in Bá Tân’s hẻm as well, just a few doors down. I am so jealous of this alley’s residents, living with two bookstores within walking, nay crawling, distance!

Emtrangtri is a mysterious new find in the list, occupying only one living room at a residential house. Upon entering, I was greeted by a female bookkeeper who was eating chips out of a bag while lounging on the sofa reading a book and listening to Laufey. I knew immediately that I had found my people. This was exactly what I look like reading at home. The store inventory focuses on thrifted books in English, Vietnamese, and French. The selection is facetiously obscure. With any given author, you won’t be able to find their Top 3 most famous books. Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice? No can do, you will take Northanger Abbey, and you will like it. According to the staff, they personally thrifted each book to put on the shelf.

All in all, the books are moderately priced, if on a slightly high side, but I have to say that the curatorial taste is impeccable. Every title seems esoteric but very interesting; I want to read all of them. There are cozy armchairs and sofas to read, even if you don’t buy anything. I will be back. Maybe with chips.

Contact: Instagram | Threads

In Defense of Vietnam's Iced Beer and Why, in My Beer, I Want Ice Ice Baby

2026-09-11T15:00:00+07:00

The snobby beer connoisseur may scoff at those who drink beer with ice. But in Vietnam, as much as 75% of drinkers enjoy their beer with ice, a habit I myself have picked up and have grown to love whilst living in Saigon. If I’m having beer, I’m almost certainly having it on the rocks, be it room-temp or already chilled; a cheaper beer from a convenience store or a craft IPA at a pub — in which case I will somewhat embarrassingly ask for a separate glass of ice. Iced beer is far superior to normal, boring beer. Below, I offer my five-point defense of why.

1. A cold plunge

No one likes lukewarm beer. And what better way of fast-tracking the cooling process than pouring it directly into a glass of ice? Though it needs saying, ice is not just for the tepid. On a hot and steamy day (by which I mean night, obviously), I crave an ice-cold beer atop ice-cold ice. I like my beer so cold, in fact, that it might just give me a thrilling brain freeze — the stuff of childhood, sure, back when we had yet to learn how too fast or too much might just backfire up along the neck. Though who would’ve thought, many a year later, what joy it would be to re-learn that same lesson over again?

2. A snack

When drinking, I constantly find myself seeking something to nibble on, accustomed to Korea’s “anju” culture, a parallel to Vietnam’s nhậu culture. A sip to whet my appetite, a bite and a nibble, and a swish to awash the food, ad infinitum. But rarely do I not feel sick once I’m done, a problem of too much bloat. I find ice a perfect zero-calorie solution — something to suck and bite on to ease the boredom of the mouth. After all, an ice is just an ice.

3. A lie

As a lightweight, I delight in the fact that ice can give the illusion of multiple drinks in one. What would have filled merely one tall glass can now be poured into multiple icy glasses. The volume of beer is the same but what do I care? Oh, the satisfaction of slamming down a glass in one go like a boisterous viking! Why split the G when you could go all the way?

4. A natural timer

Critics of iced beer will complain that ice waters down beer. Yet how come the same critics do not bat an eye when it comes to other commonly iced drinks? Coffee, tea, cocktails, juice, the list could go on and on. Sure, ice waters down beer like any other drink, but must that be a bad thing? When my beer begins to taste more and more like piss, I take that as Dionysus’s sign for me to gulp down what has probably already gone flat anyways and order myself another one.

5. Bubbles!

Beer experts will tell you that creating foam when pouring beer in fact helps enhance the taste of the beer and the drinking experience. But personally, I drink beer for its carbonation and the belch that helps to release — nay, sublimate — not just gas but something more incorporeal like pent-up discontent. (Is this a good place to emphasize that I am not an alcoholic?) I mention this for the reason that, apparently (and I’ve long suspected such from experience), pouring beer over ice helps to reduce the amount of CO₂ that escapes. Granted, the ice needs to be “rinsed” — but who says it has to be with water? I prefer to rinse my ice with a swirl or two of beer.

To be clear, none of this is an endorsement of alcoholism. Ideally, we should avoid drinking altogether. But if we are going to drink anyways, we might as well have our beers in their optimal form: served ice-, ice-cold.

Living, Learning, Loving From the Earth at Ninh Bình's Lá Library

2026-09-11T10:00:00+07:00

A stone's throw away from Cúc Phương National Park in Ninh Bình Province sits Lá Library, an education center promoting sustainable living through sustainable agriculture farming, earthen building techniques and the art of chilling out.

Run by a small group of young Hải Phòng and Hanoi locals, the project was established in 2016 and has quietly developed to become a regional example of a simple alternative lifestyle.

Lá Library sits on a 15,000-square-meter plot, and the team of four friends and housemates collectively run the food forest, while also running Lá Architects & Construction, the earthen-building design agency. They also lead an array of programs ranging from gardening and organic materials research to sculpture. A makerspace in the communal nhà sàn is available, welcoming artists and creatives to experiment with natural materials.

When asked why he started the project, founder Nguyễn Minh Vũ says, “We want to put an end to the education of damaging which teaches people to change and fight nature, we want to establish a new education of living in harmony with nature, where human beings are a part of nature and all living activities stick to healing nature, such as building the soil, building homes with natural materials, etc.”

One of the buildings on the grounds of Lá Library. Photo by Ellie Shipman.

They spent years recovering the nutrients that were depleted by the pineapple farm that was previously located here; now, the grounds are dense with stands of fruit, vegetables, herbs, nuts and even honey. The daily rituals include gathering food for woodfire cooking, spotting the broccoli from afar, discovering eggplants hidden under leaves, craning necks helplessly at the ripened pawpaw desperately too high — for the non-tree climber.

All daily chores fall in line with the project's educational philosophy: “Life.” Says Vũ, “I manage to have a living style of sustainability which connects all living activities with healing nature. We cook with a fire stove, we use organic waste and ashes for the garden. We lead the grey water to a swale near the house, then anytime we wash our veggies or dishes, the garden is watered. I can share so many simple things like these.”

Many of the center’s activities revolve around the development of earthen-building techniques, and those interested can visit Lá to learn first-hand skills ranging from bamboo building design and Japanese wattle and daub construction to making compressed earthen blocks (CEB) to adobe bricklaying.

Building Lá Library with natural materials. Photo by Nguyễn Minh Vũ.

Ellie Shipman spent time at La and recounted her experience: “I learnt so much more than I expected all round, but particularly how the building, the food and the people are all interconnected to the local landscape. The building materials and our food were coming from the ground on site, and to be fueled by this food and use it to turn these natural clays and stone into a structure was an incredible learning experience.”

“The workshop I attended at Lá Library was a five-day course on natural building construction techniques,” added Francesco Montresor, another visitor. “It was focused on continuing the construction of the library that had been started by the Lá Library Team. At that time, the bamboo roof was already up, but some walls still had to be completed, and all of them had to be plastered. The bricks, the mortar and the plaster, were all made of various proportions of soil, clay, and rice husk, and much of our work revolved around digging soil, digging soil, and digging soil. Soil was then mixed with our feet on big tarps and used to make bricks, as mortar, or plaster. A lot of soil, very brown and very orange. By the end of the day we would be covered in soil. It is a good mosquito repellent. Lots of mosquitoes at Lá Library!”

Soil-covered feet. Photo by Ellie Shipman.

In 2018, Lá Architects & Construction, the group’s architecture agency, was established to provide consultancy and construction services for external clients. This was an important milestone for the group, and now with some projects constructed around Hanoi, it gives them more opportunities to share their knowledge and philosophy.

“We consider ourselves as connectors, between people and nature; and as successors of ancient and modern achievement,” Vu explained. “Hence, each and every construction is based on people's needs and our observation of natural factors combined with landscape design for a true home to crop up from the land.”

Sunset over the lake on the grounds of Lá Library. Photo by Ellie Shipman.

In January, I was asked to animal-sit the library’s pets. I had met Vũ some months earlier when he was leading the “Tiny House” construction workshop at Xóm Bắc Cầu Garden in Hanoi and, to be honest, my frustratingly cynical tendencies and pathetically urban reference base laced my curiosity with doubt. Perhaps we are led to believe in the impossibility of truly sustainable living, for surely the concept of self-sustainability does not feed into a capitalist market economy. Is it all too good to be true? All I know is that in the space of 24 hours, Vũ had us ripping our own yam out of the ground for dinner.

As Montresor puts it: “The experience is amazing mostly because of the people running the space, a super friendly group of young and talented people that are taking things slow and stress-free, because that's how you should take life.”

This article was originally published in 2021.

Review: Saigon Soul Revival Returns to Familiar Inspiration on 3rd Album ‘Chốn Ta Về’

2026-09-10T12:00:00+07:00

More ambitious and self-assured than ever, Saigon Soul Revival (SSR) embraces their own sound and its many influences on their latest album, “Chốn ta về.”

Having made a name for themselves over the last decade by reviving and reinterpreting the eclectic music of 1960s and 1970s Saigon, Saigon Soul Revival’s third full-length album is grander and more polished than the work that earned them initial praise and attention. Steadily growing beyond the covers of beloved nhạc vàng songs that first brought them together, “Chốn ta về” witnesses the group confidently wielding disparate influences, instruments, and approaches that bridge Vietnamese and western traditions.

Saigon Soul Revival playing live in studio at l’Antipode in Rennes, France, during Trans Musicales 2024. Video via KEXP YouTube.

No singular genre or influence defined the time period Saigon Soul Revival pays homage to. Psychedelic rock is perhaps most prominent, but it's punctuated by soul, funk, blues, ska and surf rock. The assemblage acquires new dimensions via local tastes, rhythms and instruments. One of the greatest pleasures of listening to a Saigon Soul Revival record is the surprise that accompanies recognizing how different tracks bring the disparate sonic traditions together. Some seamlessly blend them, such as on standout ‘Trúc xinh,’ where Nguyễn Thị Hải Phượng’s đàn tranh slithers behind the electric guitar before the two instruments trade off taking the lead during an instrumental breakdown. It’s even more holistic on ‘Khúc tình yên vui,’ which features ska and psychedelic rock elements underpinned by Chăm musical references.

Even on tracks that foreground a single style, Saigon Soul Revival’s penchant for cross-cultural pollination produces an exhilarating sum of its parts. The reggae instrumental ‘Lý qua dub,’ for example, begins with an extended đàn tranh and đàn bầu duet before giving way to plodding bass and drums. Similarly, the aptly named ‘Chachacha ngây thơ” interjects Vietnamese into the Cuban 4-4 beat via a chorus with repeated “anh hãy” following the familiar “cha cha cha” refrain and a subtle allusion to ‘Saigon ơi’ in the final trumpet portion.

Saigon Soul Revival. Photo by Nghi Ngo courtesy of the band.

Unlike their first album, which featured primarily covers, the only non-original song on “Chốn ta về” is Mộng Long’s ‘Hoạ mi ca,’ which the band puts their own spin on with the help of local virtuoso Đinh Nhật Minh’s sáo trúc (bamboo flute). Similarly, Vietnam’s most prominent jazz saxophonist and jazz club luminary Trần Mạnh Tuấn provides a boisterous solo to ‘Ơ kìa, em ơi!’ Such support by guest musicians signifies that even as Saigon Soul Revival indulges their own creative impulses, they remain deeply connected to the musical cultures surrounding them.

Whether foreigners at raucous shows here in Vietnam or attendees at the band’s festival appearances abroad, SSR has always attracted listeners unable to understand the Vietnamese lyrics. Members of the band have noted that this reality simply adds another means for appreciating their work, as the vocals become an instrument to intuit rather than understand. Indeed, one doesn’t need to know ‘Độc huyền cầm oán khúc’ is sung from the perspective of a young widow reflecting on her children to feel the longing and despair in Nguyễn Anh Minh’s voice, as reinforced by a wilting đàn bầu. Conversely, listeners don’t need specifics to pick up on the exuberant determination of ‘Ta về với ta’ as conveyed through Minh’s vocal delivery, Nguyễn Khoa Đăng’s enthusiastic keys, and Indy Laville’s soaring guitar solo. Moreover, Minh’s laughter to close out ‘Tình điên’ makes the entire situation’s absurd tragedy obvious.

Cover design by Dan Ni with illustration by Phương An.

More than 40-some minutes of solitary streaming, “Chốn ta về” arrives as an opportunity to experience in person. The band is embarking on a world tour with stops in China and Europe after a few Vietnam dates, including September 19 in Saigon. Meanwhile, a behind-the-scenes documentary is complete and ready to be shared with fans. Physical records are also available, with gorgeous mid-century Vietnamese modernist graphics by Dan Ni and Phương An that feature the Cubist influences which emerged from the École des Beaux-Arts de l’Indochine, informed by local printing techniques.

What's That Saigon Soul Sound? documentary feature film trailer. Video via Cake Collective YouTube.

Shortly after Saigon Soul Revival formed in 2016, German DJ and music producer Jan Hagenkoetter asked them to perform at the release party for Saigon Super Sound Vol 1, where they helped young Vietnamese discover forgotten local musical histories while allowing foreigners to better connect with the modern-day culture. Since then, and in the process of making “Chốn ta về”, as Laville notes in the documentary, the band discovered their own sound. When considering their place in the evolving traditions of global pop here and abroad, Hagenkoetter remarked that they might now be creating music that inspires future generations.

To sum up:

Type: Album
Lyrics: Simple and catchy
Danceable: Very
Cryable: A few songs if you're really sensitive
Karaoke Potential: If your friends are cool

Score: 84/100

Hẻm Gems: The Izakaya Where Happiness Is Wrapped in Pork Belly and Grilled

2026-09-09T10:00:00+07:00

It took a few visits before I noticed that the music at Sakaba Sasuke was always the same.

It was a male Japanese artist, and the songs that consistently drew my attention had twinges of what I could only describe as a 1980s-esque combination of Jon Bon Jovi and Paul Stanley. More than once, I asked the staff if they could tell me what was playing. Exceedingly friendly and polite, they did their best to find out but could only intimate that The Boss was in control, and he was not around.

My nagging curiosity led me to finally ask The Boss myself, whom I suspected was the person on the other end of the Facebook messages I sent to make reservations. Eikichi Yazawa was the musician, he told me, and upon a cursory scan of the internet, his longevity, prominence and style seem to be much more David Bowie than KISS.

While the black noren is instantly recognizable for Star Wars fans, Takamura-san has no particular fondness for the sci-fi franchise and just likes the font.

The izakaya that “cool” builds

The Boss is Shumpei Takamura, and when I had the chance to ask him why Yazawa dominates the speakers at Sasuke, his answer was simply “because it’s cool.” Because it’s just cool would be part of the reason why Sasuke is one of my favorite restaurants. What even is cool can be so easily argued, but for my version of cool — and I’m guessing Takamura-san’s as well — I felt it immediately on my first visit. Before opening Sasuke in 2019, he came to Vietnam a few years prior to launch what he best describes as a “franchise” location of Japanese ramen restaurant Mutahiro, which is mere steps away from the pub. The idea for opening Sasuke was inspired by his actual experience working at a now-closed Sasuke in Tokyo.

Sakaba Sasuke doesn't have the typical decorations of classic izakayas, apart from the noren.

In a city with no shortage of izakayas to choose from, Sasuke doesn’t boldly try to announce its presence or distinguish itself from the pack. With its neutral decor, it doesn’t look the traditional part of rollicking Japanese pub, walls plastered with the written menu and a lantern or two overhead. A visitor exploring the labyrinth of Thái Văn Lung in Japantown might not take much notice of it. If they do make it to the quiet corner of the hẻm where Sasuke is located, they likely will only stop to read Sasuke’s noren, the traditional curtains that grace the entrance way.

After a meal at Sakaba Sasuke, one will eventually learn that there are few things that can't be improved by being wrapped in pork belly and grilled.

For better or for worse, the noren is how some people even know of Sasuke. “Oh, you mean the place with the Star Wars font on the curtains?” someone once asked me. Yes, the place with that (purely coincidental) font, which, in addition to carrying the name, also promotes the izakaya as “The Gather of Monkey Business.” Again, Takamura-san only has a simple reply when asked about the tagline. He said that he just liked the word “monkey,” and was stoically mum on any knowledge of the English phrase and its use to suggest what awaits you when you cross the threshold.

The monkey business is a small place that probably holds no more than 20 in the front room that houses the kitchen, a narrow bench-seated counter, and a few tables. There are more private tables in a back room, but your typical customer wants the monkey business that they first see.

Just pork belly-wrap that up

A portion of niku dofu.

Although the size brings intimacy, the bright lights at Sasuke are for action and attention seeking. Front and center for all to see when they walk in is a large nabe that is constantly simmering with niku dofu, a classic Japanese beef and tofu stew. It is one of Sasuke’s signature menu offerings that inspires both awe and appetite.

Contrasting the giant nabe that holds the stew, an order of niku dofu is a small bowl with a towering display. A block of tofu from the nabe is deftly presented on top of the tender beef; how to make your first move for a chunk is not an easy decision. As a sight to behold, the niku dofu on display is not rare in Japan, but it is here in Vietnam, and that is one of the reasons why Takamura-san wanted it to help shape Sasuke’s identity. Considering the music, noren, and slogan, his instinct was right.

Asparagus, cherry tomato, boiled egg, and even yakisoba swirls are amongst the many things on skewers here.

A specialty of that Sasuke location in Japan was yasai kushimaki, which are skewers of any manner of ingredients that have been rolled in thinly sliced pork belly. Takamura-san ensured they also made it on the menu here in Vietnam, and you’ll see them listed in English as “meat roll ups.” While yakitori gives you an appreciation for just how wonderful every part of a chicken can taste, yasai kushimaki gives you an appreciation for just how much better things taste when glistened with pork fat drippings. It is the most popular menu item for good reasons. Aside from it being an item that’s not easy to find in Saigon and, aside from it being delicious, Sasuke’s kushimaki is an adventure in learning all the unexpected items that can, indeed, be cooked on a skewer.

“While yakitori gives you an appreciation for just how wonderful every part of a chicken can taste, yasai kushimaki gives you an appreciation for just how much better things taste when glistened with pork fat drippings.”

Flavor is no doubt a factor, but rolling a ribbon of pork around something also gives it structure and some protection from the intense heat of the grill. So, how about a yakisoba skewer — a personal favorite of Takamura-san’s? Or spinach and cheese? That latter is a gooey delight, but I prefer the Camembert one for the funk. King oyster mushrooms with butter is another winner, but don’t sleep on the broiled tofu one. It sounds a little plain, but its texture wins your heart.

Pork-wrapped lettuce is a strange but delightful menu item.

Yasai means vegetables, so getting a few of the roll-ups with vegetables is a good idea. But the vegetable one you must get, the coolest one for me, is the lettuce skewer. Yes, lettuce. It is the most popular and most attractive. On one skewer, you will get what looks like four, tightly-packed green ranunculus bulbs. The lettuce petals can’t unfurl because of those porky ribbons that keep them in place. Unlike the other kushimaki, the special lettuce ones are served in a puddle of a dashi-vinegar dressing. The pork fat doesn’t penetrate to the center of the pretty bulbs, so that extra bit of seasoning is an appreciated touch to bring everything together. The pork is crispy, the lettuce isn’t wilted, and the dressing reinforces the salt and gives welcome acidity.

Crispy chicken skin, pork and lettuce stir fry, and chicken dumplings in broth.

The other must-order, the last signature menu item, and the item that first piqued my interest when I saw Sasuke’s food on Instagram before even arriving in Vietnam, is the steamed chicken meatballs called mushi tsukune. Fans of yakitori associate tsukune with oblong chicken meatball skewers often served with a raw egg yolk for dipping. Sasuke’s mushi tsukunes are spherical and maybe the size of a golf ball. One order comes with four meatballs, and each meatball contains minced chicken with combinations of different ingredients to create four distinct flavor profiles. The mushi tsukunes are served on a wooden platform and a small paper legend of the four flavors is set behind. You will be instructed to eat the tsukune balls from left to right.

The chicken balls' fillings change often depending on what Takamura-san gets inspired by.

It sounds like a gimmick, but it functions only as pure fun. The flavors change every week, and the anticipation of a new experience with every visit is endearing. Traditional Japanese ingredients such as seaweed, mentaiko, burdock root, and sesame seeds are common, as are aromatics like chives, ginger, and garlic. But then anything else is game from any vegetable to shellfish to hard-boiled egg to sausage. I’m sure I’ve had the dish almost a dozen times, and while some individual ingredients repeat, I’ve never had the same combo twice.

When asked how he comes up with the weekly ideas, it’s another simple reply — “Instagram.” Any dish or flavor pairing he might see in food photos from restaurants or his friends in Japan could serve as inspiration. Japanese curry is one that he found particularly memorable. Not shockingly, natto was the biggest failure. While the fermented soybeans can be an acquired taste for many, their aroma is not a selling point for anyone. Takamura-san’s fatal miscalculation with his natto tsukune was not realizing that, in the steamer, the other three tsukunes would also emerge with the very distinct eau de natto.

The ins and outs of running an izakaya

From left to right: karaage, shumai, and deep-fried tofu.

The space can be elbow-to-elbow packed with sounds of laughter and friendly banter, and the host turning away those without a booking. It can also be a comfortably quiet hideout, where you’ll get to fully appreciate the Yazawa soundtrack and the back-and-forth calls and responses that servers and kitchen staff make to one another. Weekends are busier, but a Monday can also see a full house. Recently, Sasuke transitioned to opening seven nights a week.

“In a city with no shortage of izakayas to choose from, Sasuke doesn’t boldly try to announce its presence or distinguish itself from the pack. For better or for worse, the noren is how some people even know of Sasuke.”

Takamura-san says that his customer base is roughly two-thirds Japanese, and they are a captive audience that he was able to build from Mutahiro and networking through the community on social media. Offering yasai kushimaki would have been an initial draw, but once Takamura-san’s knowledge and expertise with it became known, interest turned to trust. When working at the Tokyo namesake, he had spent time learning how to make kushimaki in the region of Fukuoka where it’s from.

We're in izakaya heaven.

Takamura-san’s leadership allowed Sasuke to weather the pandemic lockdowns and continue to grow a customer base, but he has struggled like any restaurateur. He has found that many non-Japanese customers have izakaya menu expectations when they visit and question menu absences, with sashimi being the one he hears about the most. He may feel confident in most decisions, knowing that he has loyal customers, knowing that he knows what’s cool, but it’s clear he also knows he is running a business. He has recently made some menu changes, including a few fish skewers, to see what works.

Staffing is probably his biggest constant concern. A challenge with a chef in charge of yakitori and kushimaki is that they cannot taste as they go along. Like a steakhouse grill master who needs to know how to cook a steak medium rare or medium well, touch, sight and experience are what to be relied on in cooking kushimaki. At Sasuke, the chef on the grill has to know the difference between medium or well-done chicken livers and ensure those pretty lettuce rolls are sufficiently warmed through before the pork belly burns. It’s a craft that takes time and patience from both mentor and student, and keeping craftspeople around is not always easy.

Working a yakitori grill is a skill not many cooks can master.

Takamura-san’s team is largely Vietnamese and all seem to speak enough Japanese to get by with him and their primary customers. The main menu is in both those languages as well as English, while the specials are often only in Japanese and English. Pointing has always served me well, and the staff is so affable and friendly that I could probably still find success using my limited Japanese or Vietnamese.

He jokes that as much as the nabe of niku dofu or the drama of the grill’s flames are beloved by customers, it’s the smiling faces of the open kitchen that people like best. I’d agree. Whether it’s trying to find out about the song I can hear or asking for another glass of shochu, grins both shy and wide are always on offer, making the experience one that is as comfortable as it is delicious.

Sakaba Sasuke is open from 17:30 to 23:00.

To sum up

Taste: 6/5
Price: 4/5
Atmosphere: 4/5
Friendliness: 5/5
Location: 5/5
Cool factor: 10/5

Rhianna loves to eat fridge-cold bánh chuối nướng with canned whipped cream, would choose a boule of sourdough and a block of French butter for her death row meal, and often daydreams about going for an ice cream stroll with Larry David.

Sakaba Sasuke

8A/A22 Thái Văn Lung, Bến Nghé Ward, D1, HCMC

Phương Mỹ Chi's Latest MV Tells Eternal Love Story in Vietnam's Khmer Community

2026-09-08T15:00:00+07:00

After forays into the worlds of reality TV and cinema, Vietnam’s folk pop princess Phương Mỹ Chi has returned to her roots with a fresh new full-length album, pioneered by the lead single ‘Thiên đường với người thương’ (lit: In heaven with my beloved).

‘Thiên đường với người thương’ is a rare track in Chi’s oeuvre that makes a romantic narrative its focal point. Across her song library, the Saigon singer-songwriter has predominantly created music with expressed intentions to promote Vietnam’s cultural and literary wealth. Still, in the new single, while the story might heavily feature a romance, Vietnamese culture — especially that of the Khmer ethnic group — also shines, but in every other aspect of the production, including production and costume design, lyrics, and song arrangement.

To be clear, Phương Mỹ Chi is not of Khmer descent, she is Kinh Vietnamese, though she shared that, to ensure the production is as accurate as possible, she consulted professors of the College of Southern Khmer Language - Culture - Arts and Humanity of Trà Vinh University.

Khmer is one of the oldest ethnic groups to have settled in continental Southeast Asia. Today, Cambodia is home to the world’s largest population of Khmer people, followed by Vietnam and Thailand, each with over a million people. In Vietnam, Khmer communities concentrate in the Mekong Delta, with Sóc Trăng and Trà Vinh provinces making up over 60% of Vietnam’s Khmer population.

The video story follows the connection between the two main characters, played by Chi and actor Bảo Định, from childhood to old age. They formed a kinship when she was a little trainee dancer, and he was learning to play traditional instruments. The childhood sweethearts eventually professed their love as young adults, culminating in a boisterous wedding. The music video ends with the husband, now at the end of his life, alone on the river where they once traversed together as a couple.

The narrative is rather uneventful and simplistic, but what makes ‘Thiên đường với người thương’ stand out is its inclusion of Khmer culture in quite a number of ways. The lyrics include the Khmer-language line “បងមានស្រឡាញ់អូនទេ?” (Anh có thương em không? / Do you have feelings for me?), in addition to other Mekong- and Khmer-specific cultural elements like boat races, cá kèo, and mắm me.

The cinematography takes viewers into the mesmerizing sights and colors of Vietnam’s Khmer community through scenes recorded at famous landmarks in Trà Vinh and An Giang provinces in the Mekong Delta, such as Ao Bà Om, Cỏ Thum Pagoda, Vàm Ray Pagoda, Trà Sư Cajuput Forest, and palmyra palm fields in An Giang. Meanwhile, Khmer dance performances made up a significant scene filmed inside a local community center, while Khmer wedding traditions and ceremonial clothing were replicated for the couple’s matrimony.

Watch the music video of ‘Thiên đường với người thương’ below:

Images via Facebook page Phương Mỹ Chi.