Comfort vs curiosity: What I learned living outside my comfort zone

I am on vacation in Vietnam

It is mid-April 2026, and I am in Vietnam—a country I had wanted to visit since 2022.

What kind of city is Ho Chi Minh?

This is not a travel blog. I have no experience in that type of writing, nor any interest in it. I only write about whatever relates to my day, which in this case, is my short-term life in Vietnam.

Life here is much cheaper than in Canada. The food is so tasty and unbelievably affordable. I can enjoy a wonderful breakfast along with a dreamy coffee for about 3 CAD. The hotel is cheap too. Right now, we are paying 34 CAD per night for our room. We have AC (thank God! otherwise we would probably cook alive), a small fridge where I can cool down my dragon fruits :P , a bathroom (not very clean though), and an okay bed and desk.

We’ve already upgraded our room by paying an extra 4 CAD per night—moving from a dark, misty space to one that is brighter, cleaner, and bigger.

Ho Chi Minh City is very hot and noisy, with scooters constantly passing left and right. It forces you to be extremely cautious when walking. There is barely any usable sidewalk because most of it is occupied by street vendors, parked scooters, and food stands. When I say there is no sidewalk, I am not exaggerating. There is literally no sidewalk. So as a pedestrian, you end up sharing the road with scooters and cars.

As scary as it sounds, you get used to it. Based on my experience, after about three days, I started to calm down and stopped panicking over the nonstop honking and the sheer number of scooters. I barely notice the noise anymore. I only end up shouting when I want to talk to Gab so he can hear me in the street.

I also got used to the extreme heat. It doesn’t feel the same as when I first arrived. It’s unbelievable how quickly you adapt. Now I can actually feel what people mean when they say the brain filters information to help survival…haha

How am I keeping up with my plans to do cardio

I had planned to do cardio every day, but Ho Chi Minh is not a walkable city, let alone a running-friendly one. You risk your life running here, whether by getting hit by a scooter or collapsing from the heat.

So I’ve put my cardio plans on hold for now. Instead, I walk about 9 to 10 kilometers per day. At least I’m still moving my body—not ideal, but it’s the best I can do in this situation.

We are planning to travel to Da Lat soon. It has a milder climate and is more walkable, so I might be able to get some proper cardio in. We’ll see.

How much comfort do I need in life?

I started this blog thinking about the concept of comfort. How much comfort do I actually need? Is that amount truly necessary?

Do I know myself well enough to answer that? If I had asked myself that question a week ago, I would have confidently said yes. But today, my answer is different. I’ve pushed myself to question my assumptions and challenge my beliefs.

Which do I value the most: Comfort or curiosity?

I think the level of comfort I need is tied to how adventurous—or unconventional—I want to be.

Have I consciously chosen my desired level of comfort, or have I simply accepted what society has suggested to me? Let me put it more clearly. When I travel, for example, do I need a certain level of comfort, or am I willing to trade some of it for curiosity? In other words, do I prefer spending more time in the hotel or outside?

I think I prefer being outside and only returning to my place to sleep, shower, and maybe prepare a simple meal to avoid eating out all the time. For that level of comfort, I would probably be happy with a capsule hotel instead of a full hotel room. Yes, there might be some inconvenience, especially when it comes to showers, but it’s worth it for the experience of discovering a new place.

Now let’s take it further. Would I be comfortable living in a small one-bedroom apartment where my essential needs are met—and even some extra ones—while paying less in mortgage? Or would I prefer a larger, very comfortable apartment with two or three rooms, where I lack nothing, but the high mortgage essentially ties me down? I am definitely happier with the first option.

Of course, I miss having my dream workshop, where I can spread out my painting tools, with shelves for my books and camera gear. But it’s okay. Instead, I’ve become very good at managing space. I organize my belongings in a way that makes a bigger closet almost unnecessary.

We also rent a storage locker. So things we don’t need all the time—like seasonal clothes, bikes, snowboards, and some tools—go there, and we just pick them up when needed.

Sometimes I do wish I had a dedicated space for painting. It would be nice. But I usually paint in the summer, and during that time I can use the space between our apartment and the neighbor’s house. In summer, our village becomes almost empty (I live in a ski resort), so that works out well.

The bottom line

So far, I’ve come to the conclusion that too much comfort can be dangerous—for me, at least. It seems to go against my youth, discovery, and creativity. Maybe I’ll change my mind when I reach my 60s, but I hope I won’t.

Anyway, I probably wrote all of this to comfort myself. And in doing so, maybe it can comfort you who are consciously or unconsciously facing the same dilemma.

Have a great afternoon.

April 16th, 2026

Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam