There comes a point when your children grow up and no longer want to go on holiday with you. They have their own plans, their own schedules and, more often than not, their own travel companions. So when the chance came to get everyone together again, Vietnam felt like the right place to do it – a country of contrasts, moving easily from the buzz of the city to the calm of the coast.

Vietnam’s reputation for adventure, culture and standout hospitality made it an easy choice. It offered enough variety to appeal to everyone and the freedom to experience different parts of the country rather than commit to just one place. For us, that meant beginning in its busiest city before slowing the pace at its most luxurious island escape.

Heart of the city

Ho Chi Minh City was the natural starting point. Or Saigon, as I quickly learned, it is still known by everyone except visiting diplomats. Saigon has evolved into a modern megacity with more than 14 million people living across the wider metropolitan area.

That scale makes itself known immediately. Arriving from Tan Son Nhat Airport at peak hour, the streets were alive with movement – neon signs, constant motion and an extraordinary tide of mopeds flowing through every intersection.

Saigon is organized into numbered districts, and the heart of the city’s cultural and historic sights sits within Districts 1 and 3. This was also where we found our base, Hôtel des Arts Saigon – MGallery Collection. Turning off the busy street and into the hotel’s driveway felt like stepping into another world. The layered, flowing entrance design draws inspiration from the ao dai, Vietnam’s traditional dress, and offers a gentle transition from the city outside.

Inside, the atmosphere shifts again. The hotel channels the elegance of 1930s French Indochina through Art Deco lines, warm lighting and richly textured interiors. Although the building recently marked its 10th anniversary, it feels timeless rather than new, with walls adorned by the owner’s carefully assembled collection of Vietnamese art and antiques. Exploring the artworks in the Café des Beaux Arts tearoom, each thoughtfully labeled, the hotel feels less like a conventional city stay and more like a living gallery.

Elevated dining

We didn’t need to venture back outside for dinner on our first evening because The Albion, located on the 23rd floor, has earned its reputation as one of the city’s standout dining destinations. Guided by double-Michelin-starred chef Kirk Westaway, the restaurant balances British culinary influences with local warmth and precision. Floor-to-ceiling windows reveal Saigon after dark, a sea of lights stretching in every direction, while the historic oak bar – once part of a Victorian-era pub in England – adds a quietly unexpected layer of storytelling.

Hôtel des Arts Saigon – MGallery Collection

The tasting menu was playful and nostalgic. Familiar flavors were reimagined with finesse, from a refined take on fish and chips finished with caviar to a whimsical Pimms-inspired course poured over cucumber-and-orange sorbet. The opening cocktail set the tone, combining theater and hospitality as a lime filled with absinthe was briefly set alight before being poured into a beautifully balanced drink made with the restaurant’s own gin.

Later in the evening, we drifted up to the rooftop. The Social Club has become one of Saigon’s most popular nighttime addresses and with good reason. From here, the city reveals its full scale, the energy unmistakable even at a distance. It was an easy place to linger, cocktail in hand, watching the city continue to thrum with life long after we were ready to call it a night.

A thoughtful note in our room acknowledged the reality of staying in the city’s center, paired with a complimentary set of earplugs. They went unused. Either the rooms were exceptionally well insulated, or we were simply worn out from a full first day.

Mornings at Hôtel des Arts Saigon – MGallery Collection carried the same sense of considered hospitality. Breakfast was a beautifully curated buffet that felt considered rather than excessive, and it was here that we were introduced to Vietnamese iced coffee – rich, strong and softened with condensed milk. From there, our time in Saigon settled into an easy rhythm of exploration.

Exploring Saigon and beyond

Thanks to the hotel’s location, everything we wanted to see on our first morning was within walking distance. The city revealed its layers gradually. Colonial landmarks sit comfortably alongside modern towers, while street life unfolds with an ease that belies its size. We moved between Notre Dame Cathedral, the Opera House, the grand Central Post Office and the Reunification Palace, where the Vietnam War effectively ended in 1975. Despite peak-season crowds and summer heat, Saigon felt functional and surprisingly calm, with locals and visitors sharing the space with little friction.

Evenings unfolded just as naturally. One night took us to Ben Thanh Night Market, where street food stalls and souvenir stands compete for attention and haggling remains very much part of the experience. After some good-natured back-and-forth, we left with full stomachs and a selection of ‘very original’ designer accessories.

We reached a point during our stay when it was time to split temporarily. While my wife and I headed south to the Mekong Delta, our sons opted for a visit to the Củ Chi Tunnels. The delta offered a gentler rhythm with sampan rides through narrow waterways and stops at small producers crafting coconut candy and honey. Our sons’ day took a more adrenaline-fueled turn, combining the iconic tunnels with a trip to an adjoining range, where they could fire AK-47 assault rifles and K-54 pistols. The experience was tempered by a thought-provoking visit to a workshop supporting victims of Agent Orange.

Both excursions lay only a couple of hours from the city, yet they offered a revealing glimpse into life beyond Saigon. The contrast added depth to our understanding of the country and its recent history.

Back in the city the next morning, we visited the War Remnants Museum together. Just a short walk from our hotel, it presents a powerful and unflinching account of the conflict, known locally as the American War. Beyond the military hardware in the forecourt, the museum’s photographs and artifacts provide sobering context, particularly for my sons, who were struck by the similarity between their own age and that of many of the young soldiers depicted.

Our final night in Saigon was anything but subdued. A Moët & Chandon event had taken over the rooftop, filling the infinity pool with foam and drawing a glamorous crowd. Standing on the hotel’s glass-floored bridge, looking down 24 stories to the street below, felt like an appropriately exuberant farewell to the city.

Island escape

From there, the tempo shifted completely. Phu Quoc, Vietnam’s largest island, offered a contrasting sense of space and escapism. Arrival at JW Marriott Phu Quoc Emerald Bay felt theatrical from the outset. Passing through gates marked by towering ridgeback dog statues, the resort reveals itself as an elaborate fiction, imagined by architect Bill Bensley as a long-lost French university.

The illusion is detailed and deliberate. Artifacts appear with invented histories, buildings are framed as academic departments and staff play their roles with gentle humor. It is intentionally difficult to determine what is real and what is not, but that uncertainty is part of the pleasure.

JW Marriott Phu Quoc Emerald Bay gallery

As we settled in, the resort revealed its layers gradually. Beyond the playful narrative lies a destination of considerable sophistication where design extends to every corridor, courtyard and vista. From our balcony, the view stretched across the scalloped pool toward the Gulf of Thailand, the water meeting pale sand in a soft, unbroken line.

Dining became a central part of the experience. Pink Pearl, housed in a lavish pink mansion, serves French-Mediterranean cuisine under the direction of Michelin-starred chef Olivier Elzer. Even this comes with its own backstory, framed around the Roaring Twenties soirees of a fictional socialite, setting the tone for a five-course set menu that balances indulgence and precision.

Time on the island unfolded at an unhurried pace. Activities were plentiful for those who sought them, from cooking classes to lantern making, though it was just as easy to do very little at all. Cycling across the grounds, lingering by the pool or stretching lunch well into the afternoon felt entirely appropriate.

The resort’s creative concept leans heavily on nostalgia, and it works. For many guests, memories of university life carry a particular warmth, and even for those of us who never attended an institution like this, there was something quietly evocative about the setting. Over lunch at the Architecture Studio, my son noted details such as door handles fashioned from steel rulers and scale models suspended high in the rafters.

Conversations with the resort’s General Manager John Woolley – known here as ‘the Dean’ – echoed the same philosophy. Dining, he explained, has become a central pillar of the experience, with many guests planning restaurant reservations well before they arrive.

Beyond the resort, the island itself offered further contrast. Sunset Town, with its Mediterranean-inspired architecture, felt like a purpose-built stage set for the spectacular ‘Kiss of the Sea’ show, while inland attractions such as Agarwood Village provided insight into traditional crafts that have changed little over generations.

Returning to the resort after these outings, it became clear why so many guests choose not to venture far. There is a sense of being gently removed from time, where the outside world fades into the background.

When it was time to leave, the final flourish arrived in the form of Lamarck University graduation certificates. Excellent grades all around, of course, and a fitting conclusion to a trip that revealed Vietnam not as a single destination, but as a country defined by contrast, imagination and confidence.