ЖИЗНЬ ВО ВЬЕТНАМЕ 2025: МИНУСЫ И ОСОБЕННОСТИ

SUMMARY

Ilya, a Russian expat in Da Nang, Vietnam, highlights key downsides of living there after six months, covering inflated expectations, housing challenges, visa extensions, chaotic traffic, and sanitation issues like pests.

STATEMENTS

Living comfortably in Vietnam is cheaper than in most countries, but it does not break economic logic; expecting luxury on $500 monthly is unrealistic.
Many overestimate Vietnam's affordability due to influencers, leading to disappointment when basic comforts require reasonable spending.
Booking long-term housing via Airbnb or Booking often results in overpayment and mismatches between photos and reality.
The ideal way to find housing in Vietnam is to book a short hotel stay, search Facebook Marketplace groups, and contact local realtors who charge no commission to renters.
When inspecting housing, prioritize checking for mold in humid areas, ants that infest food, and potential nearby construction noise.
Russian-speaking realtors in Vietnam sometimes charge exorbitant commissions simply for communicating in Russian, risking triple the price.
For stays over 90 days, obtain an e-visa initially, then extend via border runs, short international trips, or professional agencies like Easy Go.
Border runs for visa extensions, such as to Lao Bao, can be comfortable via agency transport but require following instructions carefully at the border.
Traffic in Da Nang challenges pedestrians and drivers due to locals' disregard for rules, influenced by Confucian hierarchy prioritizing flow over individuals.
Vietnam's street culture, rooted in historical outdoor eating, contributes to litter and pests like rats and cockroaches, though tourist areas are cleaner.

IDEAS

Influencers create a myth that Vietnam offers free luxury, but even high-quality sushi costs just $5, far below prices elsewhere, yet people expect everything gratis.
Surviving on $400 monthly for a family is possible but feels like a challenge, not a vacation, eliminating any chance of oceanfront villas or Michelin dining.
Housing photos often deceive; one scheme involves arriving early, scouting via local Facebook groups, and negotiating directly to avoid 30% markups.
High humidity breeds mold everywhere in older buildings, while ants demand constant food vigilance, turning kitchens into battlegrounds.
Sudden construction in tourist zones can start at dawn, forcing moves; no foolproof avoidance exists, but living outskirts helps.
Russian expat services inflate costs for language convenience, teaching that compatriots abroad may exploit familiarity for profit.
Visa extensions via agencies provide stress-free border runs in luxury vans, turning a bureaucratic chore into a scenic excursion through villages and windmills.
Pedestrians must walk steadily like a "stone in a river" for motorbikes to flow around; stopping disrupts the chaotic harmony.
Horns in Vietnam signal presence, not anger, but constant beeping from tuned vehicles playing Beethoven symphonies grates on nerves.
Rats and cockroaches thrive due to street food traditions where scraps pile under tables, yet they're no worse than in Bangkok or Phuket.
Locals toss beer cans underfoot during gatherings, but tourist spots have improved; avoiding "authentic" dives reduces encounters.
Expectations shape experiences: overhyping leads to letdowns, while balanced views enhance even imperfect adventures.
Economic growth floods roads with cars, clashing with moped-era habits and rare zebra crossings.
Confucian culture views individuals as secondary to group flow, explaining why drivers rarely yield to single pedestrians.

INSIGHTS

Unrealistic expectations fueled by social media distort perceptions of affordability, turning potential paradises into personal disappointments.
Direct local engagement via platforms like Facebook Marketplace bypasses exploitative intermediaries, empowering expats to secure fair housing deals.
Bureaucratic necessities like visa runs, when outsourced to reliable agencies, transform obligations into opportunities for low-key exploration.
Chaotic traffic reflects deeper cultural priorities of collective momentum over individual rights, requiring adaptive mindsets for safe navigation.
Historical street-eating customs sustain urban pests, but tourism's evolution is gradually imposing cleaner standards without erasing authenticity.
Personal preconceptions ultimately dictate satisfaction in new environments, underscoring the value of objective information over hype.

QUOTES

"Комфортно и даже в какой-то мере роскошно жить во Вьетнаме можно дешевле, чем в большинстве стран мира. Но это вовсе не означает, что в этой стране сломаны правила логики и экономики, и вы будете жить как царь за 500 долларов в месяц."
"Пешеход должен идти медленно и равномерно, и байкеры объезжают его как камень в реке."
"Сигнал во Вьетнаме - это не про агрессию, как в России или Европе, а про систему коммуникации."
"Чем больше я живу, чем больше путешествую, тем больше убеждаюсь в том, что твои впечатления от отдыха, поездки или новой страны для жизни в первую очередь зависят от ожиданий, которые ты в свою голову заложил."

HABITS

Scout housing in person after a short hotel stay, focusing on local Facebook groups to contact realtors directly and avoid online booking pitfalls.
During visa extensions, opt for agency-organized border runs in comfortable vehicles, following detailed instructions to minimize stress.
When crossing roads, walk slowly and steadily to integrate into the traffic flow, allowing vehicles to maneuver around without abrupt stops.
Inspect potential rentals thoroughly for mold, ants, and construction risks, prioritizing well-ventilated, newer buildings in quieter areas.
Adjust eating habits by avoiding leaving food out due to ants, and choose tourist-oriented spots to evade street litter and pests.

FACTS

Vietnam's e-visa allows 90 days stay, extendable by border runs to places like Lao Bao, 250 km from Da Nang, costing around $300 for a couple via short trips.
Da Nang's speed limit of 40 km/h aids pedestrians, but traffic density spikes during festivals, revealing locals' lax adherence to rules.
High humidity in Vietnam accelerates mold in non-ventilated older homes, a common issue exacerbated by poor construction.
Rats appear in Southeast Asian cities like Bangkok and Hong Kong due to warm climates, but Singapore's strict waste policies keep them minimal.
Vietnam's roads historically lacked zebras and strict markings, as the country was moped-dominated until recent economic booms introduced more cars.

REFERENCES

Easy Go agency for visa runs and e-visas, providing detailed instructions and comfortable transport like Kia Carnival vans.
Facebook Marketplace groups dedicated to housing rentals in specific cities like Da Nang.
Telegram channel with realtor contacts for apartment viewings.
Evisa.gov.vn website for initial Vietnam visa applications.

HOW TO APPLY

Arrive in Vietnam and book a hotel for 2-3 days to acclimate and begin housing search without commitment.
Join local Facebook groups for rentals in your target city, message appealing listings, and specify needs to realtors who offer free viewings.
During apartment inspections, check bathrooms and kitchens for mold signs, test for ant presence by leaving crumbs, and inquire about nearby construction plans.
For visa extension after 90 days, select an agency like Easy Go; provide passport details a day in advance for organized border transport at dawn.
When navigating traffic as a pedestrian, choose a steady pace across roads without hesitating, signaling intent early so drivers can adjust their flow.

ONE-SENTENCE TAKEAWAY

Balance expectations with reality to thrive in Vietnam's affordable yet imperfect expat life.

RECOMMENDATIONS

Temper hype from influencers by budgeting realistically, aiming for $800+ monthly for comfort rather than bare survival.
Prioritize local realtor networks over international platforms to slash housing costs and ensure accurate listings.
Use professional services for visa extensions to avoid exhausting DIY border trips, especially in hot seasons.
Master traffic etiquette by moving predictably, embracing the "river flow" philosophy to reduce crossing dangers.
Select accommodations in non-tourist outskirts to dodge noise and pests, enhancing long-term livability.

MEMO

In the sun-drenched streets of Da Nang, Vietnam, Ilya, a Russian expat who has called this coastal city home for six months, peels back the glossy veneer often peddled by travel influencers. His videos typically celebrate the tropical allure, but in this candid dispatch, he confronts the sobering realities that could upend dreams of perpetual paradise. "Living comfortably here is cheaper than most places," Ilya notes, savoring a $5 platter of pristine sushi that would command triple the price in Moscow or New York. Yet, he warns, the fantasy of reigning like royalty on a shoestring $500 monthly budget crumbles under basic economics—luxury villas and gourmet feasts remain elusive for the truly frugal.

Housing hunts emerge as a gauntlet of deceptions and damp surprises. Online platforms like Airbnb lure with idyllic photos, only to deliver threadbare repairs or outright swaps, often at a 30% premium. Ilya's prescription: touchdown lightly with a brief hotel stint, then dive into Facebook Marketplace groups teeming with local listings. Engage realtors—who waive fees for tenants—and scrutinize for the tropics' stealthy foes: mold creeping through humid walls, armies of ants raiding countertops, and the dawn chorus of unannounced construction in bustling tourist enclaves. "We got lucky finding ours," he admits, recounting a haphazard Google Maps trek that could have soured newcomers faster.

Visa woes add bureaucratic bite to the expat equation. An initial e-visa grants 90 days of worry-free wandering, but renewal demands ingenuity: a grueling 500-kilometer round-trip border sprint on a scooter, a pricey jaunt to Thailand or Malaysia, or—his preferred path—hiring outfits like Easy Go for seamless "border runs." In a predawn van gliding past misty villages and wind-swept turbines, Ilya chronicles the ritual: handover passports, trail fellow Slavs at the Lao Bao crossing, emerge stamped and legal after 30 minutes. Agencies shine in flexibility, even rescheduling for pet emergencies, though costs hover fairly around $100 per person for such orchestrated ease.

Da Nang's roads, a symphony of horns and near-misses, test every arrival's nerve. Pedestrians navigate not by right-of-way but by ritual: step forth steadily, a "stone in the river," as motorbikes swarm like schools of fish. Drivers, heirs to a moped monarchy now cluttered with cars, honor Confucian flow over individual courtesy—yielding disrupts the current, inviting pileups. Horns blare not in rage but announcement: "I am here," from behemoth buses or whimsically tuned rigs piping Beethoven amid rush-hour frenzy. Speed caps at 40 km/h offer slim solace, but festivals unleash pandemonium.

Beneath the bustle lurks the underbelly of urban fauna—rats skittering through alleys, cockroaches crunching underfoot in lore, though Ilya downplays the hype. These nuisances, kin to those in Bangkok or Bali, flourish from Vietnam's street-food heritage: vendors sweeping scraps at dusk, fostering nocturnal feasts. Tourist zones have tidied up, but authentic haunts reveal the remnants—beer cans littering sidewalks amid raucous gatherings. Ultimately, Ilya posits, perception reigns supreme: unchecked expectations breed disillusion, while tempered realism unlocks joy in Vietnam's vibrant imperfections. For those undeterred, his 140-page guide beckons, a roadmap to mindful migration.