About summits and thoughts

There are moments in life when we literally stand at the foot of a mountain.

Not all of them are made of stone. Some are made of questions, uncertainties or silent longings.

And yet every ascent begins with a simple step.

I encountered many of these inner and outer mountains in Vietnam - but none was as impressive as Fansipan, the highest point in Indochina.

It towers 3,143 meters above the land, above clouds and fog, above anything that can be described in words.

Even though the cable car took me to just before the summit, it was the last few steps that made me feel the most what climbing means.

Every step: a small struggle, a pause, a breath.

And at the top?

Not just a magnificent view, but silence.

Respect. Reverence.

Not of the height - but of your own path.

A few days later: Hang Múa in Ninh Bình.

Another mountain, smaller, but no less special.

No cable car this time - just me, my legs and over 500 stone steps.

Again and again I thought I was at the top, but then came another turn, another step, another thought.

Until at some point I was no longer thinking, I was just being.

The view of the rice fields, which stretched across the landscape like a green mosaic, was beautiful.

But the real view was happening inside me.

A quiet feeling of peace - and the quiet realization that you often lose more when you leave than when you arrive: Doubts, pressure, noise in your head.

Vietnam showed me:

Not every peak is high, but each one can touch deeply.

Some you reach panting, others silently.

But they all remind you of this:

The true ascent never begins on the outside.

But within us.