stillbecoming.studio

When we arrived at the restaurant Gamze mentioned, I was genuinely surprised to see a long queue waiting outside. From the outside—and honestly, even from the inside—it didn’t look like a visually striking or “glamorous” place at all. But then I noticed the Michelin plaques at the entrance; I was standing right in front of a restaurant that had made it onto the Michelin Recommended list in both 2024 and 2025! On one hand, I was thrilled about the food, but on the other, a subtle inner panic was kicking in about what the bill might look like.

Truth be told, I’ve never been a fan of over-decorated dishes where the actual food gets lost on the plate. My general perception of Michelin-starred or recommended restaurants is that they lean heavily into dramatic presentations—focusing on quirky visuals and unusual ingredients rather than pure flavor. To me, however, the less processed and more natural the ingredients are, the more authentic and delicious the dish becomes.

As these thoughts drifted through my mind, I started people-watching in the queue. Most were tourists. The weather was insanely hot and humid, yet the young Vietnamese girl guiding us at the door remained remarkably calm and polite. The heat was stifling, but no one seemed bothered by the wait. There nowhere to sit, so we had to stand, but the restaurant team made up for every bit of discomfort with their warmth and generous glasses of ice-cold water.

When our turn finally came, we were informed that our table was on the second floor and that we’d be greeted upstairs. We walked in (for those who aren’t fond of Far Eastern cuisine, the aromas might be a bit overwhelming, but since I’m no stranger to those scents, I didn’t mind at all). Climbing to the second floor, the restaurant’s simplicity and total absence of luxury caught my attention once again.

When it comes to food—and when hunger hits peak levels—Gamze and I always find ourselves subtly eyeing neighboring tables to decide what to order. In the end, I completely surrendered to her expertise. Having lived in the Far East for years, she knew the region’s culinary culture far better than I did, so I left the choices entirely in her hands. I had just one request: “Just make sure we leave full, my dear!”

Three magnificent dishes arrived at our table. I won’t break down every single item, but I officially fell head over heels in love with pomelo, which I was trying for the very first time in my life! I had occasionally bumped into this fruit in high-end markets back in Istanbul without giving it a second glance. How good could a seafood salad made with it really be, right? Well, let me tell you: it was phenomenal! I couldn’t get enough. The other dishes were wonderful too, but I secretly decided right then and there that I’d eat nothing but pomelo for the rest of my time in Vietnam.

While sweeping my plate clean, I couldn’t help wondering: “What is this going to cost us?” After all, we were dining at a Michelin-recommended spot. Remembering the pricing policies of similar places back in Istanbul, I caught myself thinking, “Why would this place be any different?”

When the meal ended, the check arrived… I couldn’t believe my eyes! It was extremely reasonable—cheap, even. I felt a mix of pure surprise and a slight pang of sadness regarding the state of gastronomy prices back in my own country.

Charmed by the subtle yet perfectly balanced flavors, the grace of the staff, and that delightfully modest bill, we dragged Ayfer along with us and went straight back the very next day. This time an even longer queue awaited us, but knowing I’d be reunited with my new love, pomelo, I didn’t mind the wait for a second.

Of course, our trip wasn’t solely about eating; we also had a scheduled program to follow for the conference.

That day, we were set to go up to Ba Na Hills, located 1,478 meters above sea level. This mountainous resort was originally built by the French during the colonial era as a cool escape from the tropical heat. I was eager to see it, except for one tiny (!) detail: the only way up and down was by cable car! Looking up, there seemed to be dozens of lines stretching into the distance, carrying roughly 50,000 people up and down every day.

And I am deathly terrified of cable cars! I mean, airplane travel doesn’t particularly scare me, but mention a cable car and I freeze up completely. There’s no logical explanation for it; I’m just terrified. Still, as I stepped inside, I tried to soothe myself: “Come on, what’s the big deal? It’s only 5 minutes, you can handle it.”

Since Gamze and I were gathering the group from behind, we boarded the very last cabin. — “Hey Gamze, did you know I’m terrified of cable cars? But hey, I think I can manage 5 minutes.” — “What do you mean 5 minutes?” — “What, is it shorter?” — “It’s 30 minutes!”

Right at that moment, a wave of heat washed over me, and beads of sweat started gathering on my forehead… (And I rarely ever sweat!) I had no idea what to do. It was too late to get off. I tried to use my breath to calm the fear, but every time the cabin jolted at a support tower, keeping my focus on my breathing became completely impossible. It felt like an endless 30 minutes.

Thankfully, we made it to the top safe and sound.

Today, this site has been modernized. With its famous Golden Bridge held up by two giant hands, its botanical gardens, hotels, narrow paved streets, and street performers, it felt as though we had been transported out of the Far East and dropped straight into a charming French village for the day. Everything at the top was wonderful. Then came the announcement: “We’re moving to the other restaurant for lunch.” But that restaurant was higher up… Which meant what? Another cable car!

— “This one is shorter…” — “How many minutes?” — “Ten.” — “What?!”

Another ten minutes of sweating bullets… And naturally, I was already stressing about the ride back down while still on the way up!

Where we arrived, the climate shifted instantly. The suffocating, humid air below gave way to a cool, misty atmosphere accompanied by a gentle drizzle. The whole group absolutely loved the weather change.

After lunch, it was time for the descent. Gathering the stragglers once again, Gamze and I ended up in the final cabin. This time, we were joined by a local guide and two rather curious guests from our group. As soon as we stepped in, they bombarded the guide with questions. They asked, and he explained:

It turned out this cable car system, stretching non-stop from the base station to the peak over 5.8 kilometers, was one of the longest and highest single-cable non-stop lines in the world… It had even made it into the Guinness World Records. A similar line was apparently also located in Vietnam.

What terrifying information! As if I wasn’t already scared enough, my stress levels doubled instantly.

Then came my essential question: — “So, which country built this system?” — “An Austrian company.”

I felt a slight wave of relief. Don’t ask me why, but in that moment, Austrian engineering felt like a solid guarantee!

Below us lay a vast, endless forest with massive trees reaching up from hundreds of meters down… Another question came from the group: — “Is the wildlife in the forest protected?” — “Yes, Vietnam has very strict rules about this. Wildlife is extremely important to us.” — “So, what kind of animals live down there?” — “Mountain goats, deer… and pythons.”

Aha! There you go, a brand-new nightmare unlocked right on the spot. My brain immediately wrote the script: The cable car cabin snaps and falls; I don’t die from the fall, but I end up getting swallowed by a giant python below! For the remaining 40 minutes of that journey, I picked through a whole catalog of personal horrors.

Thankfully, we landed… Thank goodness! I offered up a massive prayer that I’d never have to take a cable car ride again for the rest of my life.

My main reason for visiting Vietnam was to manage the technical operations side of a partner conference. Having a background in event and technical coordination from my previous career, I managed to handle it smoothly thanks to the straightforward flow of the event.

What struck me most while working there was the slowness, simplicity, and low, calm tone of voice that defined even their work culture 🙂 Nobody shouts, nobody passes their stress on to the person next to them. At one point, when something went sideways, my voice started to rise slightly—but seeing the surprised looks turned toward me, I caught myself immediately. I regulated my voice and realized that whatever the issue was, it could be resolved just as effectively through calm communication. A few details didn’t go exactly as planned, but by the end of the night, hands were in the air, everyone was on the dance floor, and the energy was pure joy.

Once again, this post is getting quite long. I think the journey home, Singapore, and my thoughts upon returning to Turkey deserve a third part.

Let’s just say I’ll write that one sometime soon…

With love, Nazan

If These Piece had a Color : It would be ”Amber”.

If These Piece had a Song : It would be ”Sertab Erener – Kumsalda ”. https://open.spotify.com/track/3U5JVgI2x4rDyHGObzJfNf?si=f9047821d23d42ac

If These Piece had a Scen : It would be ”Ginger”