In Hoi An, the lights are not switched on in the evening. They are hung up.
When the sun sets behind the Thu Bon River, hundreds of silk and bamboo lanterns light up above the streets, red, yellow and green. A town that is hot and loud by day goes quiet at night and turns a different colour.
Lanterns, Hoi An
Light is my job. I calculate how much of it comes in through a window, how much heat it brings in, and how to keep a room from overheating in summer. In those calculations, light is a number. A street in Hoi An would not pass a single lighting calculation, and yet you can see everything you need to.
Along the riverbank they sell paper lanterns with a candle inside. You set one on the water and let it go. By the end of the evening the river is full of small flames, each drifting its own way.
The Thu Bon River at night
The bridge above them is lit and still. Its reflection in the water is not.
A bridge in Hoi An at night
Back at the hotel I switched on the light in my room. It was white, bright and perfectly correct. And somehow not enough.
Next time: Taste. A Vietnam you don’t look at, you eat.
Kad sunce zađe za rijeku Thu Bon, iznad ulica zasvijetle stotine lampiona od svile i bambusa, crveni, žuti i zeleni. Grad koji je danju sparan i bučan noću se smiri i dobije drugu boju.
Lampioni, Hoi An
Svjetlo mi je posao. Računam koliko ga ulazi kroz prozor, koliko topline unosi i kako spriječiti da se soba ljeti pregrije. U tim proračunima svjetlo je broj. Ulica u Hoi Anu ne bi prošla nijedan proračun rasvjete, a na njoj se vidi sve što treba.
Na obali se prodaju papirnati lampioni sa svijećom. Spustiš ga na vodu i pustiš. Do kraja večeri rijeka je puna malih plamenova, i svaki pluta na svoju stranu.
Rijeka Thu Bon noću
Most iznad njih je osvijetljen i miran. Njegov odraz u vodi nije.
Most u Hoi Anu noću
U hotelu sam upalila svjetlo u sobi. Bilo je bijelo, jako i potpuno točno. I nekako premalo.
Sljedeći put: Okus. Vijetnam koji se ne gleda, nego jede.
The rain came around noon, thick and warm, as if someone had lowered the sky onto the rooftops. I thought the city would stop. It didn’t. The scooter riders simply pulled on their ponchos, the street cooks moved their little tables half a metre inside, and a woman in a palm-leaf hat kept pushing her bicycle at the same pace, as if rain were not weather but furniture.
Old Quarter, Hanoi
Moisture is my profession. I calculate where vapour travels through a wall, where it will condense, and how much protection the wall needs so it does not rot from the inside. At home, a building defends itself against water. In Hanoi I looked at houses as narrow as books on a shelf, balconies full of plants and cables, and realised they do not defend themselves. They dry. Every day, all over again, windows open, with a patience my spreadsheets have no column for.
From high up in the hotel, Hoan Kiem Lake looked like a drop that had forgotten to fall. The glass was covered in raindrops and the city behind it was blurred and tender, like a watercolour that has not dried yet.
Hoan Kiem Lake through wet glass
By evening the asphalt shone like a river. I stood under an awning in wet trainers and, for once, calculated nothing. I just listened to the water knowing exactly where it was going.
Hanoi at dusk
Next time: Light. Hoi An, the city of lanterns, where the night is never quite dark.
Kiša je pala oko podneva, gusta i topla, kao da je netko spustio nebo na krovove. Mislila sam da će grad stati. Nije. Motoristi su samo navukli kabanice, kuhari s ulice pomaknuli su stoliće pola metra unutra, a žena u šeširu od palmina lišća gurala je bicikl istim korakom, kao da kiša nije vrijeme nego namještaj.
Old Quarter, Hanoi
Vlagom se bavim profesionalno. Računam kamo para putuje kroz zid, gdje će se kondenzirati i koliko ga treba zaštititi da ne istrune iznutra. Kod nas se zgrada brani od vode. U Hanoiju sam gledala kuće uske kao knjige na polici, s balkonima punim biljaka i žica, i shvatila da se one ne brane. One se suše. Svaki dan iznova, otvorenih prozora, sa strpljenjem za koje u mojim tablicama nema rubrike.
Odozgo, iz hotela, jezero Hoan Kiem izgledalo je kao kap koja je zaboravila pasti. Staklo je bilo puno kapi, a grad iza njega mutan i nježan, kao akvarel koji se još nije osušio.
Jezero Hoan Kiem kroz mokro staklo
Predvečer je asfalt svjetlucao kao rijeka. Stajala sam ispod tende, mokrih tenisica, i prvi put nisam računala ništa. Samo sam slušala kako voda točno zna kamo ide.
Hanoi predvečer
Sljedeći put: Svjetlo. Hoi An, grad lampiona, u kojem noć nikad nije sasvim tamna.
The boat slid under the rock, and the day stayed behind us.
Trang An, Ninh Binh
First the light disappeared, then the warmth, then the words. Only the water remained, black and still, and an oar dipping into it slowly, as if counting. Every stroke came back to me from the dark twice: once as a sound, once as a thought.
Under the rock, Trang An
Sound is my profession. Reverberation time, absorption, decibels – I turn everything a space does to a voice into numbers and tables. Here, for the first time, I wanted it to stay just sound. A stone millions of years old repeating whatever you tell it, slowly and without hurry, and no one having to calculate it.
When we came back into the light, the rocks were green again, the sky grey again, and the water was just water. But the echo stayed. I carry it still, when the office goes quiet.
The limestone cliffs of Trang An
Next time: Rain. Hanoi, where the city doesn’t take shelter, it just carries on.
Čamac je skliznuo pod stijenu, a dan je ostao iza nas.
Trang An, Ninh Binh
Najprije je nestalo svjetla, pa topline, pa riječi. Ostala je samo voda, crna i mirna, i veslo koje je u nju zaranjalo sporo, kao da broji. Svaki zaveslaj vraćao mi se iz tame dvaput: jednom kao zvuk, drugi put kao misao.
Pod stijenom, Trang An
Zvuk mi je posao. Vrijeme odjeka, apsorpcija i decibeli: sve što prostor radi s glasom pretvaram u brojeve i tablice. Ovdje sam prvi put poželjela da ostane samo zvuk. Da kamen star milijunima godina ponavlja što mu kažeš, polako i bez žurbe, i da to nitko ne mora izračunati.
Kad smo izašli na svjetlo, stijene su opet bile zelene, nebo opet sivo, a voda opet samo voda. Ali odjek je ostao. Nosim ga i sad, kad je u uredu tiho.
Vapnenačke stijene Trang Ana
Sljedeći put: Kiša. Hanoi, gdje se grad ne sklanja, nego nastavlja.
Magic of Vietnam: Why does Vietnam keep drawing me back?
I have gone back to Vietnam several times. And every time I started thinking about another trip there, I caught myself asking the same question: why does Vietnam pull me in so much?
I don’t know if there is one right answer.
When I first came, of course I was won over by the sights, the smells, the colours, the food, the sea and a completely different rhythm of life. But after a few trips I realised it isn’t only that. Something about Vietnam stays with me even after I leave.
Vanja Keindl in the rice fields near Hoi An – Magic of Vietnam
What is it about Vietnam that draws me so much?
Maybe it is exactly its diversity.
Vietnam isn’t a country I can sum up in one word. Old and new meet there all the time – cities and nature, busy streets and quiet places, the sea and the countryside, everyday life and sights that take me by surprise.
And maybe it’s also that Vietnam can still surprise me.
Even when I think I already know what to expect, something new turns up. A street, a house, a market, a beach, a restaurant or a perfectly ordinary scene that makes me stop and take out my camera.
Hidden Beach, Vietnam – Magic of Vietnam
Vietnam through my photos
That’s why I decided to make this series, Magic of Vietnam.
I don’t want to write a classic travel guide or list places you have to visit. I want to show Vietnam the way I experienced it on my trips and through my photos.
From Hoi An and Hanoi to Phu Quoc and Ho Chi Minh City, every place has its own atmosphere.
I remember some photos because of the place where I took them. Others because they remind me of a moment, a smell, a conversation or simply the feeling I had at the time.
Ho Chi Minh City at night – Magic of Vietnam
Why do I keep going back to Vietnam?
This is perhaps the most interesting part.
After many trips to Vietnam, I still don’t have a final answer to why I keep going back.
All I know is that something pulls me back again.
Maybe it’s the people, the food, the cities, the sea and the landscapes. Maybe it’s the feeling that I still haven’t seen everything there. Or maybe it’s just the feeling I get when I find myself on a Vietnamese street again.
And so I ask myself: what is it about Vietnam that always makes me want to return?
Maybe that is exactly where its magic lies.
You don’t always have to know why a place matters so much to you.
It’s enough that you want to go back.
The Japanese Quarter in Saigon at night – Magic of Vietnam
Magic of Vietnam
This is the start of my series Magic of Vietnam – about trips, places, photos and those moments that make Vietnam show up in my plans again.
Maybe through this series I’ll finally understand why it draws me so much.
Magic of Vietnam: Zašto me Vijetnam uvijek ponovno privlači?
U Vijetnam sam se vraćala više puta. I svaki put kad bih ponovno počela razmišljati o putovanju tamo, uhvatila bih se kako sama sebi postavljam isto pitanje: zašto me Vijetnam toliko privlači?
Ne znam postoji li jedan pravi odgovor.
Kad sam prvi put došla, naravno da su me osvojili prizori, mirisi, boje, hrana, more i potpuno drugačiji ritam života. Ali nakon nekoliko putovanja shvatila sam da nije stvar samo u tome. Nešto u Vijetnamu ostane sa mnom i nakon što odem.
Vanja Keindl na rižinim poljima kraj Hoi Ana – Magic of Vietnam
Što me toliko privlači u Vijetnamu?
Možda me privlači upravo njegova različitost.
Vijetnam nije zemlja koju mogu jednostavno opisati jednom riječju. U njemu se neprestano susreću staro i novo, gradovi i priroda, užurbane ulice i mirna mjesta, more i krajolici, svakodnevni život i prizori koji me iznenade.
A možda je stvar i u tome što me Vijetnam još uvijek može iznenaditi.
Čak i kada mislim da već znam što mogu očekivati, pojavi se nešto novo. Neka ulica, kuća, tržnica, plaža, restoran ili sasvim običan prizor koji me natjera da zastanem i izvadim fotoaparat.
Hidden Beach, Vijetnam – Magic of Vietnam
Vijetnam kroz moje fotografije
Zato sam odlučila napraviti ovu seriju Magic of Vietnam.
Ne želim napraviti klasičan turistički vodič niti nabrajati mjesta koja treba posjetiti. Želim pokazati Vijetnam onako kako sam ga ja doživjela kroz svoja putovanja i fotografije.
Od Hoi Ana i Hanoija do Phu Quoca i Ho Chi Minh Cityja, svako mjesto ima svoju atmosferu.
Neke fotografije pamtim zbog mjesta na kojem su nastale. Druge zato što me podsjećaju na neki trenutak, miris, razgovor ili jednostavno osjećaj koji sam tada imala.
Ho Chi Minh City noću – Magic of Vietnam
Zašto se vraćam u Vijetnam?
To je možda najzanimljiviji dio.
Nakon više putovanja u Vijetnam još uvijek nemam konačan odgovor na pitanje zašto mu se vraćam.
Znam samo da me nešto ponovno povuče.
Možda su to ljudi, hrana, gradovi, more i krajolici. Možda je to osjećaj da tamo još uvijek nisam sve vidjela. A možda je to samo osjećaj koji imam kada se ponovno nađem na vijetnamskoj ulici.
I zato se pitam: što je to u Vijetnamu zbog čega mu se uvijek želim vratiti?
Možda je upravo u tome njegova čarolija.
Ne moraš uvijek znati zašto ti je neko mjesto toliko važno.
Dovoljno je da mu se želiš vratiti.
Japanese Quarter u Saigonu noću – Magic of Vietnam
Magic of Vietnam
Ovo je početak moje serije Magic of Vietnam – o putovanjima, mjestima, fotografijama i onim trenucima zbog kojih se Vijetnam ponovno pojavi u mojim planovima.
Možda ću kroz ovu seriju napokon shvatiti zašto me toliko privlači.
Kapadokija očima inženjerke: kako kamen postaje arhitektura
Kapadokija odmah privuče pažnju nestvarnim dolinama i kućama uklesanim u stijenu. Kao građevinska inženjerka, vidjela sam više od krajolika. Primijetila sam pametne geološke odluke, precizno oblikovan prostor i iznenađujuće moderno razumijevanje udobnosti. I što sam više obilazila kraj, to su mi te ideje bile jasnije. Ako želite znati više o mom profesionalnom putu, možete ga pronaći ovdje. Krajolik Kapadokije oblikovan je poput geološkog muzeja na otvorenom.
Od čega su napravljene ove kuće u stijeni
Kuće u Kapadokiji nastale su u tufu, vulkanskom kamenu koji je nastao kad su se slojevi pepela nakon davnih erupcija stvrdnuli. Jasno geološko objašnjenje tufa možete pogledati na Geology.com.
Budući da se tuf lako kleše, ljudi su s minimalno alata izdubili cijele prostorije. Ali kad je izložen zraku, kamen očvrsne i dobro nosi opterećenje. Osim toga, njegova porozna struktura prirodno upija i otpušta vlagu. Zato su te kuće ljeti hladne, a zimi tople, bez dodatne energije.
Ako volite mjesta s jakim arhitektonskim identitetom, možda će vam se svidjeti i jedna druga priča s mojih putovanja, ovdje.
Vanja Keindl, putopisna blogerica i građevinska inženjerka, ispred kamenih kuća u Kapadokiji
Kako su drevni graditelji oblikovali prostore Kapadokije
Dok sam dalje istraživala, primijetila sam koliko su pametno prvi graditelji oblikovali svoj prostor. Klesali su prostorije, a da nisu poremetili prirodan prijenos opterećenja. Dodavali su ventilacijska okna kroz koja je svjež zrak strujao kroz više razina. Otvore su postavljali tako da propuštaju dnevno svjetlo i izvode dim van. A kamenim stupovima podupirali su dublje dijelove podzemnih gradova.
Kapadokija je i na UNESCO-ovom popisu svjetske baštine, što pokazuje koliko je važna njezina arhitektura uklesana u stijenu. Službeni upis možete pogledati ovdje.
Više mojih arhitektonskih zapažanja s raznih putovanja možete pronaći u cijeloj arhivi putovanja, ovdje.
Pogled na doline Kapadokije koje je oblikovao vulkanski kamen.
Zašto Kapadokija i danas nadahnjuje inženjere
Kapadokija spaja lokalne materijale, pasivno prilagođavanje klimi i uklapanje u krajolik na način koji djeluje iznenađujuće napredno. Kad se ti elementi spoje, dobije se trajnost, udobnost i održivost.
Dok sam hodala dolinama i uz uklesana pročelja, shvatila sam koliko moderno inženjerstvo može naučiti od ovog mjesta. Ako želite nešto pitati, surađivati ili se samo povezati, slobodno mi se javite ovdje.
Za više informacija o putovanju, službena turska turistička stranica nudi odličan pregled ovog kraja: GoTürkiye – Cappadocia.
Exploring Cappadocia Through an Engineer’s Eyes: How Stone Becomes Architecture
Cappadocia instantly captures attention with its surreal valleys and carved rock homes. As a civil engineer, I saw more than scenery. I noticed smart geological choices, precise shaping of space and a surprisingly modern understanding of comfort. And the more I explored the region, the more these ideas became clear. If you want to know more about my professional background, you can find it here. Cappadocia’s landscape shaped like an open-air museum of geology.
What These Rock Homes Are Made Of
Cappadocia’s houses come from tuff, a volcanic stone formed when layers of ash hardened after ancient eruptions. You can see a clear geological explanation of tuff on Geology.com.
Because tuff carves easily, people created entire rooms with minimal tools. However, once exposed to air, the stone strengthens and supports weight efficiently. In addition, its porous structure absorbs and releases moisture naturally. As a result, these homes stay cool in summer and warm in winter without extra energy.
If you enjoy destinations with strong architectural identity, you may like another story from my travels here.
Vanja Keindl travel blogger and Civil Engineer in front of stone houses in Cappadocia
How Ancient Builders Designed Cappadocia’s Spaces
As I kept exploring, I noticed how intelligently early builders shaped their environment. They carved rooms without disturbing natural load paths. They added ventilation shafts that kept fresh air flowing through multiple levels. They positioned openings to bring in daylight and guide smoke out. And they used rock columns to support deeper sections of the underground cities.
Cappadocia is also listed as a UNESCO World Heritage site, which highlights the importance of its rock-carved architecture. You can see the official listing here.
For more of my architectural observations from different destinations, you can explore the full travel archive here.
A panoramic look at Cappadocia’s valleys shaped by volcanic stone.
Why Cappadocia Still Inspires Engineers Today
Cappadocia blends local materials, passive climate design, and landscape integration in a way that feels surprisingly advanced. When these elements come together, they create durability, comfort and sustainability.
As I walked through valleys and carved facades, I realised how much modern engineering can learn from this place. If you want to ask a question, collaborate or simply connect, feel free to reach me here.
For more travel insights, the official Turkish tourism page offers excellent background on the region: GoTürkiye – Cappadocia.
