Today’s guest is someone I’ve gotten to know through my Tuesday quiz night at The Rabbit Hole Irish Sports Bar. She’s smart, funny, and has a story that a lot of people—local or foreign—can relate to.
Hoa is from Hanoi, but she moved to Saigon later. She also had a time in America to visit her partner’s family, so she had a lot to say about different cultures.
It’s always interesting to listen to stories about different cultures, and we dig into serious stuff like mental health, visa struggles, and identity—and yes, we also laugh a lot.
Hoa Chanh – Communication Culture in Vietnam
When I invited Hoa onto A Vietnam Podcast, I already knew we were in for a fun and honest chat.
Unfiltered comments about others’ bodies
I was curious about her name, Hoa “Chanh”, and “Chanh” means lime. She told me how some friends joked that her chest was as small as a lime. It stuck. She got a tattoo of a lime. She named her blog Lime, Not Lemon.
It was funny, but also said something deeper. Vietnamese culture can be really direct about people’s bodies. Friends, colleagues, even strangers might comment on how flat your chest is, how big your belly is, or how pale or dark your skin looks. Not to insult, just a matter of fact.
Why People Always Suffer?
As a foreigner, that used to shock me. But Hoa helped me understand that even Vietnamese people sometimes feel uncomfortable—they just don’t always speak up. There’s a lot of pressure to “keep the peace” and not offend others. She said many Vietnamese people grow up learning not to say “please don’t touch me” or “that makes me uncomfortable.”
That made me think. As much as Vietnam has this reputation for being warm and friendly (and it is), there’s a quiet pressure to accept things you don’t like. And that creates a lot of silent frustration, especially if you’re a woman.
Hoa also talked about how people touch her neck at work and comment on her body like it’s normal. I shared how strangers have commented on my big nose. It reminded me that what’s “normal” in one culture can feel invasive in another. But what’s important is that people should be allowed to say when something feels wrong. Hoa has learned to say no. Most people around her haven’t. That’s a big insight.
Talking About Money
Another thing we talked about was how open Vietnamese families can be about things like money. Hoa’s parents told the whole neighbourhood—and all of Facebook—when she landed her first job making $350/month.
She laughed about it, but it also showed a pattern: Vietnamese parents show love through pride. And that pride comes out in numbers—how much you earn, who you marry, how “successful” you seem.
Hoa’s story showed how these values can also lead to pressure. People in her hometown knew exactly how much she earned. Parents wanted her to come home every two weeks. They expected a certain kind of life.
Hanoi to Saigon: When Culture Shock Comes From Your Own Country
Hoa didn’t just run away from her family’s expectations. She ran from the burnout of big-city life, and from the box she was put in. After the pandemic, she moved south to Saigon.
What surprised me was hearing how she, as a Vietnamese woman, experienced culture shock inside her own country.
People in the South didn’t always understand her accent. Her Grab drivers thought she was a foreigner. Jokes that made people laugh in Hanoi didn’t land in Saigon. She felt like an outsider.
And that loneliness got worse at work. Long hours in advertising. No energy to make friends. No community. No time to rest. It took a toll on her mental health.
It’s easy to think culture shock only happens to expats like me. But Hoa reminded me that Vietnam is a big country. Moving from North to South isn’t just changing your address—it’s changing how people speak, joke, work, and live.
Why Leaving Vietnam Isn’t So Simple
Hoa had always wanted to see more of the world. She had plans to travel, to visit her fiancé’s family in the U.S., and to take a break from the stress of everything. But leaving Vietnam isn’t always easy—especially when you carry a Vietnamese passport.
As a foreigner, I admit I’d never really thought about this until I started hearing more from Vietnamese friends. If I want to go to the U.S., I fill out a quick online form. Twenty years ago, I could do it on the plane. But for Hoa—and for most Vietnamese people—it’s a long, stressful, and uncertain process.
Getting a U.S. Visa (The First Time, Then the Second)
Hoa had to apply for a tourist visa. That meant booking an interview at the U.S. embassy and convincing a complete stranger that she wasn’t going to overstay her visit. It wasn’t just a matter of showing some paperwork. She had to prove her relationship, her job status, her travel plans—all of it.
She scheduled the meeting months ahead. Then it got canceled. She lost her chance to interview while still employed, which lowered her chances even more. When she finally did get the interview, she made the mistake of saying she was going to visit her fiancé’s family—but didn’t explain he was with her in Vietnam. That sent up red flags. A young Vietnamese woman flying solo to visit an American man? To them, that sounded like she might be trying to marry her way into a visa.
She was denied.
But she tried again. A few weeks later, she had another interview—this time with a kinder officer. She explained her situation clearly, and finally, she got the visa.
What We Don’t Realize About Passport Privilege
Talking to Hoa made me realize how much I take my British passport for granted. It’s powerful. I can travel to most countries with little to no effort. But that’s not the reality for everyone.
Even when Hoa traveled to Hong Kong with her (now) American husband, she had to show wedding photos, translate and notarize her marriage certificate, and upload multiple documents just to visit for a few days.
These extra steps aren’t just annoying—they’re exhausting. And they make you feel like you constantly have to prove yourself. Prove you’re in a real relationship. Prove you’re not trying to stay illegally. Prove you’re “safe.”
The Strange Questions
We laughed about the weird questions that come up in visa interviews. Things like, “What color is your partner’s toothbrush?” or “What’s their underwear color?”—yes, really.
These questions sound ridiculous, but they’re meant to catch people lying. If your answers don’t match, they might think your relationship is fake. It’s like a romantic game show, but with real-life consequences.
Hoa took it in good humor, but I could tell it was frustrating. She just wanted to visit a country, see her partner’s family, and come back. But at every step, it felt like someone was suspicious of her.
Culture Shock With America
Hoa’s first time in the U.S. started with a small miracle: she got through JFK immigration without trouble.
But once inside the U.S., the culture shock hit hard.
High living costs
The prices were the first thing. Sandwiches cost $10, compared to $1 in Vietnam. “I was furious,” she said. Her husband, who had lived in Vietnam for a while, also felt the shock. It’s funny how quickly we adjust to Vietnam’s affordability—until we go back to the West.
Everyday kindness
The second shock? Kindness.
A stranger held the door for her.
A car stopped to let her cross the street.
For most Westerners, that’s just everyday politeness. But for Hoa, it was totally unexpected. In Vietnam, holding doors or stopping for pedestrians isn’t really part of the culture. “I came back to the car and told my husband—did you see that guy hold the door for me?” she laughed.
Large Eating Portion
Then came Walmart. That’s when Hoa saw something she’d only heard about: obesity in America. She was shocked by how many people used scooters to get around the store. “You can just walk a little every day,” she said. “That already helps.” It wasn’t judgmental—it was just a moment of realization. Life in the U.S. moves differently. People live differently.
And the food portions? As expected: massive. One starter (entree) could feed two people in Vietnam. The scale of everything made her feel small. “Like a tiny little girl in a giant world.”
When Success Looks Like Marrying a Foreigner
After all the culture shock, visa drama, and burnout from work, Hoa had one more mountain to climb: a 500-person Vietnamese wedding.
The Stereotypes That Still Stick
Hoa has faced assumptions that she only married for a visa, or to “bag a foreigner.” One neighbor literally called her horrible names from outside her apartment—loud enough that she could hear from the bathroom.
She told me she wasn’t hurt by it. Just annoyed. She didn’t care what strangers thought. But it still says something about the way some people view relationships between Vietnamese women and Western men.
Even her own family told her, “You finally got success in life—you married a white man.” That’s a strange kind of praise, but also very revealing.
Conclusion
I loved this chat with Hoa. Her honesty about everything—from burnout and depression to being judged for who she married—was both eye-opening and, honestly, really refreshing.
If you enjoyed this episode, please share it with someone who loves Vietnam—or needs to hear a story like this.
This Season is sponsored by Premier Dental. Discover the potential of a confident and healthy smile with the excellent dental clinic in Ho Chi Minh