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Young people from the South are establishing their careers in the northernmost region of the country.
Kinh Hoang (1999) - a young man from the South came to Ha Giang the first time just to visit, the second time to admire the scenery, and on the third visit, he decided to stay. Having just graduated from university, not yet truly skilled in anything, he embarked on a gap year with a single aspiration: to do something of his own. In Saigon, where people move quickly and calculate meticulously, he felt he couldn't compete. But standing in Ha Giang – a new, unspoiled land – he wondered: perhaps, with perseverance, he could sow something truly meaningful?
He came to Ha Giang, where he could "live" and understand himself better.
He started with the smallest jobs, like running errands, photocopying documents, delivering goods, and even cleaning toilets. There were times when he was utterly exhausted, but it was from those experiences that he truly understood the value of hard work, of every drop of sweat he put in each day. In return, he received dedicated guidance from those who came before him and was given invaluable opportunities – things that don't always come around in life. At that time, even though he worked for free or received only a very low salary, he still considered it a "special class" to hone all sorts of skills: from observation and communication to how to handle situations in a real-world environment.
From the first time he arrived in Ha Giang, he fell in love with its scenery. There was something very similar to his homeland in the Central Highlands – high mountains, swirling mist, a cool climate, and an alluring tranquility. But unlike his hometown, a place full of family memories, Ha Giang offered a feeling of freedom, of starting anew, unbound by the past, and unconstrained by anyone.
Another reason was tea. Shan Tuyet ancient tea was still a relatively unfamiliar name in the market at the time. But Kinh Hoang, who had previously run a small business in Saigon, realized that those ancient tea buds held untapped cultural potential. He went to Ha Giang with a short-term intention: to develop the product and then return. But once he started, he… couldn't leave anymore.
Starting a business in the F&B industry in Ha Giang
He started with "Highland Stories," a simple, roadside coffee shop in the town. A few small, self-made chairs, a coffee machine bought on installment, a handwritten sign—it was all like a "long-term camping" version of an F&B startup.
Then came Phiên, his famous "marketplace" themed café in Đồng Văn – a bigger dream, rebuilt from a traditional Hmong house with a yin-yang tiled roof, perched precariously in the old town. The house was a hundred years old, with walls several inches thick. He and a few local craftsmen spent over four months renovating it – from repurposing old wood to make tables and chairs, to painting, cleaning, and installing electrical and plumbing systems. Everything was done by hand, as there was no budget to hire a design firm.
"Two years – not long in a lifetime, but enough for a fledgling dream to take root and blossom through silent daily efforts. It's both fast and slow. At Phiên, there are many imperfections: a slightly crooked corner, unevenly aligned pieces of wood, and the somewhat unclear, broken sentences of the students. But it is precisely these things that make this place special and more welcoming. We're not trying to create a perfect place – but a truly authentic one," shared K. Hoàng.
Live like a "village boy".
Transporting materials to the highlands is not easy – from straws and paper cups to coffee beans, many things take a week to arrive. He didn't receive formal barista training, so he taught himself online and in books, gradually adjusting the recipes based on customer feedback. Some days he has to make 3-4 trips between two cafes more than 20 kilometers apart, in freezing temperatures of 1-2 degrees Celsius; he's tired but can't stop.
The Hmong people are kind and hardworking, but the differences in language and lifestyle make this process require a great deal of patience. Some are not fluent in Vietnamese, and some have never worked far from their village. But once enough trust and companionship are established, they become reliable operators of the restaurant.
I did everything myself, from the blueprints to the design and renovations.
The name "Phiên" (meaning "marketplace") embodies the spirit of a highland market – a place where anyone can bring something to exchange: a bunch of vegetables, a chicken, a pair of canvas shoes… But most importantly, it's about the encounter. A glass of corn wine, a bowl of market pho, a conversation shared among the crowd.
Everyone who comes has something to take away—a good story, an unexpected encounter, a moment of pause in a hurried journey. To maintain that spirit, Phiên chooses to develop quietly—no big signs, no flashy advertising. Everything grows through word of mouth, through the kindness in every cup of coffee, every cup of tea, every welcoming glance. He hopes that in the memories of anyone who has visited, there will be a gentle, soothing note, a warm yellow light amidst the highlands, a place where people once sat down and truly connected.
Stories from the highlands - the beginning of the journey
Session - Continuing the cherished aspirations
Gac Bep is the next model – still maintaining the spirit of Phien but focusing on cuisine: pizza, pasta, Western dishes, but cooked with a simple, meticulous spirit. He said that tourists coming to Ha Giang not only want to see the scenery but also want a place to eat that is really good and decent.
At Gác Bếp, everything stays true to its original form – no modifications to make it "new," but preserved to remain authentic. Local staff are rotated between the bar, pizza kitchen, and coffee shop as a natural and effective way to learn the trade. "One of the staff members is from the Hmong ethnic group, but their skills are on par with anyone from the city," he shared.
Kinh Hoang doesn't dream of becoming a "big boss," but wants his small-scale business to be a breath of fresh air, contributing to changing the way services are provided in Ha Giang. A peaceful place to stay, good food, and kind treatment – that's all it takes to create an experience that makes tourists want to return. He used to admire those who were big, successful, had capital, a team, and everything. But then, looking back at himself amidst the mountains of Dong Van, a revived old house, a small restaurant always bustling with customers – he realized this was already a dream.
K. Hoang - from South to North with an impossible dream
Ha Giang was a place that tested his emotions, willpower, and patience. But having overcome it, he realized that what he has now is truly worthwhile. It's not just a lesson from the majestic nature, unique culture, or simple people, but also the feeling of peace when finding value in scarcity. It's not grand or glamorous, but it's sufficient so that each morning he wakes up feeling happy and meaningful. The highlands are difficult places, but that's precisely why they're fertile ground for unconventional models. And if you're persistent enough, you – and that land – will grow together.
This land has molded him from a stranger into someone deeply attached to and in love with this place. Ha Giang is not for those who easily give up, but if you are patient enough to stay, it will open up a feeling like coming home – a home where the harshness itself is the inspiration to live more fully each day. Because in the end, the most beautiful things are always at the end of the journey.
