Hà Nội

I didn't realise how many videos my mum had taken of me until I looked through her phone after our trip to Hanoi.

There I was, walking down a narrow street.

Then again, following someone into a coffee workshop.

In another video, I was standing at a hotel reception, checking us in.

Nothing particularly interesting was happening in any of them.

And yet, she'd filmed it all.

It was our first trip abroad together, just the two of us.

We went during a three-day holiday in June. My mum doesn't speak English, so I'd taken care of pretty much everything — planning our itinerary, booking activities, finding our way around, and talking to people along the way.

It felt strangely new to be the one in charge.

Growing up, I was always the one following her.

She knew where we were going, what we needed, and what to do when something unexpected happened. I never had to think much about any of it.

Now, in a city neither of us knew particularly well, I was the one checking Google Maps, finding the right streets, and doing all the talking.

Whenever someone asked us a question, my mum would turn to me.

It was a funny little reversal. For once, she was the one relying on me to navigate an unfamiliar world.

And I quite liked it.

I liked being able to take care of the things she would normally have to worry about. I liked showing her around, explaining things, and knowing that she could just enjoy herself.

What I hadn't noticed was how much she'd been watching me do all of it.

Of course, there was plenty else to remember about Hanoi.

One of my favourite things about travelling with my mum was discovering just how willing she was to try something new.

She's always been more of a tea person, but when I booked us into a Vietnamese coffee workshop, she was completely up for it.

We spent part of the day learning how to make coffee, following the instructions and trying things we'd never done before.

She had such a good time that afterwards, she told me she wanted to try making it herself when we got home.

I loved that.

We ate some wonderful food, too.

One of my favourite stops was a tiny bánh mì shop that had been around for years and was mentioned in the Michelin Guide.

It didn't look like much from the outside, but there was a queue of people waiting.

Naturally, we joined it.

The baguettes were wonderfully crisp, filled with all sorts of savoury things, and cost only around ten yuan each.

When I was little, I used to follow my mum everywhere. I probably never gave much thought to how often she'd look back to check that I was still there.

Now that I'm older, I can finally walk ahead and show her the way.

And there she is, still watching me.