Every autumn in Vietnam, a curious scene plays out across Saigon. Seemingly overnight, everyone from your local grocer to boutique cafes, heritage tea houses, pop-up booths, and even luxury chocolatiers gains a new obsession. Elaborately decorated box sets containing golden pastries spring out of nowhere. Some look more like museum pieces than hawker fare. Yet whenever I bring up Bánh Trung Thu, the iconic mid-autumn mooncake, I’m usually met with only two reactions.

My fellow foreigners will stare at me in polite bewilderment. I’m quite sure I am the only expat who actively seeks out a dense pastry stuffed with cured pork fat, candied melon, and salted duck egg yolks… at least with vigor. Meanwhile, most of my Vietnamese friends greet the season with a collective “meh”. They are jaded by childhood memories of dry, overly sweetened bricks. Their later years only cement that disdain with the annual flood of cheap, mass-produced corporate gift boxes. Those get re-gifted like hot potatoes.

Both camps are missing out on nothing short of a culinary renaissance. Over the past few years, Saigon’s top bakers have entirely re-written the old recipe book. Today, they’re transforming a centuries-old pastry into a bold medium for experimentation across both time and borders.

To prove it, I spent the 2026 season eating my way through 30 different bánh nướng style mooncakes across five of Saigon’s heavy hitters. Every single one was purchased at my own expense. Rest assured, you won’t waste a single calorie on a mediocre box.

Mooncakes: The Best Part of Autumn

It’s no secret that Vietnam is a top-tier food destination. I’m sure international sensations like Phở, Bánh Mì, and perhaps even robusta coffee come to mind. Vietnamese cuisine is regionally diverse and has absorbed many influences over the centuries. These range from Khmer flavors in the west, French techniques from the colonial period, to Chinese culinary traditions from the north. Today, we’re leaning into the latter.

Mooncakes originate in China. The first historical reference to the pastry can be traced back to market scrolls from the 13th Century, in the Song capital of Hangzhou. There’s even a local legend that mooncakes were used to smuggle clandestine messages and overthrow the Mongols in 1368. The evidence is a bit shaky, though. What we know for sure is that their popularity spread quickly. By 1547, mooncakes were being shared as autumn moon festival gifts. That tradition’s endured. Today, they’re treasured fixtures across the Sinosphere: from “yuèbǐng” in Northern China to “Kue bulan” in Indonesia.

Having lived in Asian-adjacent neighborhoods for most of my life, I was no stranger to them. To be honest, I didn’t think much of the traditional Chinese mooncakes. If anything, my first impression was almost forgettable. An overly dense, oily carb-bomb that felt like the “awkward teen years” personified in food. Too weighty to be bread, not sweet enough to be a dessert, lacking the protein of a full meal. I shrugged and moved on to the other (more appetizing) stalls at the night markets.

Make no mistake, these are not your grandma’s mooncakes.

The Chinese versions I had written off were thick, oily blocks of paste: relentlessly heavy and one-dimensional from the first bite. A modern Bánh Trung Thu (or BTT, as I fondly call them now) is a wholly different beast. Even at its most traditional, the Vietnamese approach dials back on the oil and breaks up density through textural variety and bright flavors. While strongly inspired by its Chinese cousin, it plays in a league entirely of its own.

My first chance encounter with one was nothing short of a love story.

When Love Hits You In The Mouth

It was 2025, a normal weekday in my favorite cafe: Cộng. It was the kind of place that honored tradition but didn’t shy away from modern flair. I could frequently be found in the back, on my laptop, working the day away. I was fueled by classic (if not slightly decadent) Vietnamese coffees, such as Cà Phê Cốt Dừa (coconut coffee) and Cà Phê Sữa Đá (iced coffee with condensed milk). My flow state buzzed to an absolutely FIRE playlist. (Seriously, they queued Santana back to back with the theme from Gladiator and somehow made it work!?)

Seeing a new seasonal menu, I was curious to continue my thus-far phenomenal exploration of Vietnamese food.

There were so many flavors on offer and it felt like a properly hearty snack for mid-day. I had to start with the traditional one. Every bite was a new and wonderful experience.

The crunch of nuts, the chewiness of dried fruit, and…. hold on…. was that a sinew I was munching on!?

It took almost no time at all for this to become a new daily ritual. I slowly branched out to try new flavors and brands but always returned to my favorite Cộng traditional.

Yet, just as quickly as it started, I learned that mooncake season ends all too soon. I was absolutely distraught to discover that the last stock sells out by the first week of October. I had but a single month with my newfound love. I made sure to stock up from any merchant that had any left at season’s end.

Mooncakes have a decent shelf life. Their contents are hermetically sealed with oxygen absorbers. The cakes themselves are preserved through cured ingredients and rich sugar pastes. Despite that, two months is the absolute limit for how long one can safely last. I had my last BTT on Thanksgiving Day.

The Triumphant Return

Forced to quit my new-found addiction cold-turkey, I eagerly anticipated autumn 2026 so they could once again grace my palate. As luck would have it, Cộng is one of the first merchants to begin selling them in mid-July. The traditional flavors (thập cẩm: the classic combo of fruits, nuts, egg, and pork) made a mandatory appearance. Crowd-pleasing favorites like chocolate, coconut, and green tea were almost certain to make the rotation too. However, to my surprise, about half of the menu looked starkly different from last year.

It was at that point I heard my calling. An undeniable quest to taste all the mooncakes Saigon had to offer. To write and spread the gospel of Bánh Trung Thu, so its deliciousness may grace your tongue as well. A quest that I… miserably failed at!

The first lesson of mooncakes: they are best enjoyed once per day.

Given their density, I shudder to think about the calories.

No sooner had I managed to work through the entire menu at one merchant than I would discover a new competitor offering their own. A whole new set of flavors to sample and compare, repeated ad infinitum. This was great for my mooncake addiction, but terrible for a timely article!

What did emerge from my quest was an extensive list of the best mooncakes in the city.

To Judge A Mooncake

First and foremost, my ratings are primarily taste based.

BTTs are a celebratory affair, and in many ways even a luxury product. Many have elaborate, maximalist packaging. Presentation is a major factor of both their cost and appeal. I appreciate the flair and you might find me mentioning it in some of the entries. However, it does not factor into my ranking in any way. At most, it’s a compelling aside.

Second is scope. As mentioned earlier, it was physically impossible for me to consume every possible mooncake variety in Saigon in a single season. I had to make strategic picks. This year, I decided to go with a mix that best represented both tradition, experimentation, a range of price points, and accessibility.

That last one is important because there are dozens more merchants that only offer mooncakes online, for delivery, or in bulk. These are all excluded from my ranking. My focus is on readers who could walk into a cafe next season and buy their single perfect mooncake. Despite these other popular formats, I don’t believe one should be forced to order an entire (expensive) boxset to appreciate a good mooncake.

So with all that in mind, I settled on the core group:

Cộng, Bakes, Phúc Long, and Annam Gourmet.

I set out to rate mooncakes individually, but of course, through this doughy journey I came to an understanding of the merchants themselves. Their vibe, strengths, weaknesses, all solidified into an opinion on the brands as a whole. I’ve included that toward the end. For those overwhelmed by choice, this may be the best place to start.

Next are the leagues. Dessert mooncakes are in their own (would be unfair otherwise… more on why later), but three other groupings naturally emerged: meat-based, fruit-based, and botanical leagues. Partially divided due to dietary preferences, but also because of how distinct these categories feel.

The meat-based ones are the more traditional variety and, surprisingly, can be some of the sweetest. The fruit-based ones are more mellow, subtle, and more prone to modern experimentation. Both are phenomenal and have their own best-of-class winner.

Finally, I know mooncakes can be downright intimidating for the western palate. “Sweet” and “Meat” rarely go together in a pastry shell. While some western cultures do have a tradition of meat pies, they’re an altogether different category that leans more toward “stew in pastry form” than what we’re discussing here. So for the curious readers that want to start with something a bit more familiar, I’m highlighting the best gateway mooncake of each type to get you started.

Of course, the opposite is also true for the more adventurous eaters. I highlight the most experimental mooncake in a category too. While they may not always be very high scoring, I promise you they’ll be unlike anything you’ve had before.

So without further ado, I present to you the definitive ranking of the best mooncakes in Saigon for 2026.

Saigon’s Best Meat & Seafood Mooncakes of 2026

🏆 Best in Class

Traditional (Thập Cẩm Truyền Thống) — Cộng Cà Phê (4/5)

• If you can trust Cộng to deliver one thing, it’s authentic nostalgia. So it’s no surprise they (once again) knock the thập cẩm experience out of the park. The first bite tastes unmistakably like Christmas: warm, spiced, and complex. What elevates it is the sheer variety of textures packed inside. The crunch of nuts, plump chewiness of raisins, and sinews that somehow manage to work in harmony. Best of all, it carries its richness remarkably lightly.

🚪 The Beginner’s Gateway

Beef and Pepper — Phúc Long (4/5)

• Feel intimidated by the kitchen-sink chaos of the traditional mooncake? This one is for you. Phúc Long delivers a tender baked crust and a semi-sweet, peppery beef filling. It has a satisfying, measured crunch without any of the tough sinew that can scare off newcomers. Its balance and approachability make it the best entry-level meat mooncake in Saigon.

🧪 Unconventional Creativity

Shrimp and Scallop XO (Tôm Sò Điệp Sốt X.O Thượng Hạng) — Bakes Saigon (4/5)

• If I had to pick a personal favorite from Bakes’ entire lineup, this would be it. It pulls off that most delicate balancing act that made me fall in love with mooncakes in the first place. Wrapped in a striking dark crust that tastes faintly chocolatey, Bakes successfully integrates luxury seafood with the indulgent feel of a dessert. Neither one overpowers. The filling is delightfully chewy (even springy), with a lush, creamy salted egg yolk anchoring the experience. Best of all is how it evolves: savory sinews emerge gradually and create a varied and complex tasting that keeps your palate hooked.

Worth the Calories

Mixed Crab — Annam Gourmet (3/5)

• This one was a genuine textural feast. While the main flavor leans toward the sweeter side of savory, it’s kept in check with a crunchy, almost vegetal opening note. The real star here is the mouthfeel: fibers of crab meat are woven through the filling. This lets a delicate brininess emerge as a faint, pleasant aftertaste.

Sausage & Sticky Rice — Bakes Saigon (3/5)

• The meatiest contender of the entire lineup, unapologetically for the hungry carnivores. Bakes reimagined a classic Vietnamese breakfast as a mooncake. It’s mildly spiced meeting of chewy bits of jerky and clouds of pork floss (chà bông). The floss practically melts on your tongue while the sticky rice gives it structure. This one attempts to ride the classic sweet-and-savory line, but leans just a hair too sweet. While the gym bros will respect the commitment, it’s crying out for more textural crunch.

Proceed with Caution

Alaskan Black Peppered Shrimp — Annam Gourmet (2/5)

• Nobody can accuse Annam Gourmet of playing it safe. Despite an unmistakably pungent oceanic aroma, the filling pivots fast into a shockingly sweet profile. Complete with an airy (if not incessant) crunch that feels like biting into a Rice Krispies treat. This execution definitely won’t be for everyone. The sheer audacity of turning peppered shrimp into a confection makes it the unforgettable experiment of the season.

Scallop XO — Annam Gourmet (1/5)

• Where Bakes turned XO seafood into a four-star triumph, Annam’s take on the same profile falls completely flat. With a name like “Scallop XO,” I was bracing myself for a rich, spicy umami bomb. Instead, it tastes oddly like lukewarm vegetable soup. Aside from the nuts doing all the heavy textural lifting, this cake has virtually no aroma and a bland, indistinct flavor profile. Nothing really stands out, except unmet expectations.

Saigon’s Best Fruit-Based Mooncakes of 2026

🏆 Best in Class

Lotus Seed & Pomelo Peel (Sen Bưởi Trứng Muối) — Cộng Cà Phê (5/5)

• The undisputed crown jewel of not only this category, but the entire 2026 season. Cộng merges a mellow, almost creamy lotus seed center with bright bits of candied pomelo peel. It opens with a refreshing citrus zing that cuts effortlessly through the pastry’s richness. The pomelo peel lends a lovely, chewy texture to every bite. What stuck with me is how it’s so much lighter on the palate than almost any other mooncake on the market. A vibrant, velvety, rare five-out-of-five triumph.

🚪 The Beginner’s Gateway

Peach Kumquat — Phúc Long (4/5)

• If you’re new to modern fruit mooncakes and want something that bridges to tradition, start here. Pour yourself a hot pot of tea first; the pairing is just too good. You’ll be treated to a gentle whisper of peach and a bright tang of kumquat. The smooth filling practically flows across the tongue. The flavor lingers just enough as to not overstay its welcome. Its secret weapon is the egg yolk, both punchier and saltier than expected. What you get is a mellow, anchored fruit flavor that manages to maintain savory notes.

🧪 Unconventional Creativity

Green Tea Apricot (Trà Xanh Mơ Xoài) — Cộng Cà Phê (4/5)

• Rather than getting weighed down in a heavy, sugar-laden paste, Cộng re-engineers the texture from the ground up. In doing so, they created, another contender for airiest mooncake in Saigon. Reminiscent of a delicate Japanese green tea mochi, it pairs a consistent, grassy tea backbone with the bright, floral lift of apricot and mango. Just right for an industry where “not too sweet” is one of the highest compliments. It leans slightly on the dry side, but it’s worth trying for a refreshing category departure.

Worth the Calories

Shredded Coconut (Dừa Sợi Cam Mè) — Cộng Cà Phê (4/5)

• Don’t let the English shorthand fool you on this one. It’s secretly a citrus bomb. The full Vietnamese name, Dừa Sợi Cam Mè, means Shredded Coconut with Orange Peel and Black Sesame. The emphasis is almost entirely on those last two. Though that’s not to say the coconut and roasted sesame are wasted. Both earn their keep for their welcome rustic and slightly gritty chewiness.

Red Dates with Walnut — Annam Gourmet (3/5)

• Fruit mooncakes seem to be full of deceptively named creations. The “dates” in question are actually red jujube apples. Wrapped in a slightly thicker, oilier crust, this filling wins points for its floral, aromatic sweetness and mouthfeel. The natural fruit fibers alongside crunchy walnuts give it a grounded texture and keep the sweetness in check.

Longan Red Rice (Red Rice with Dried Longan & Egg Yolk) — Annam Gourmet (3/5)

• Earthy red rice definitely takes the driver’s seat here. It’s pleasantly punctuated by occasional pockets of chewy dried longan. It leans slightly toward the dessert end of the spectrum, though the body is undeniably dense. Best enjoyed in thin wedges alongside a strong hot coffee or spiced chai. The honeyed center almost begs for it.

Saigon’s Best Botanical Mooncakes of 2026

🏆 Best in Class

Black Sesame — Bakes Saigon (4/5)

• A masterclass in earthy, warming spice. Bakes opens with a bold burst of fresh ginger, which levels off into a smoother, lingering finish. Instead of grinding everything into a uniform paste, the chefs left whole sesame seeds intact inside a somewhat doughy crust. The result is that every bite feels rewarding, with a welcome, nutty crunch and an elegant, gentle sweetness.

🚪 The Beginner’s Gateway

Pandan — Bakes Saigon (4/5)

• Silky and remarkably light on its feet. Bakes’ Pandan mooncake is the ultimate entry point into Southeast Asian botanicals. Rather than blasting your palate with sugar, it leans subtly savory. Exactly what you need for a clean, simple, and mellow pandan aroma to breathe and not overwhelm.

🧪 Unconventional Creativity

Truffle (Thập Cẩm Vị Nấm Truffle) — Phúc Long (4/5)

• Folding luxury Western truffles into a traditional mooncake is ambitious. Phúc Long steps up and delivers with a multi-sensory delight. It greets your nose with a bold, pungent, earthy aroma. Then it pivots into a semi-sweet, delicate, yet satisfyingly crunchy bite. Finally, it leaves you with a long, nutty, praline-like finish. The truffle itself recedes quickly. Yet, the contrast between the dramatic aroma and the refined, nutty finish makes for a genuinely unique tasting experience.
• (Note for vegetarians: despite living in the botanical bracket for its truffle profile, this thập cẩm base contains mixed meats.)

Worth the Calories

Truffle (Bò Sốt Truffle Hoàng Kim) — Bakes Saigon (3/5)

• Another wildly creative botanical experiment. This one channels the herb garden of an Italian bakery. Bakes’ take on a truffle mooncake focuses on the supporting cast: fragrant rosemary, olive oil, and a lingering peppery kick. The body is moderately dense and chewy, but it’s held back by an egg yolk that leans dry and overly crumbly. Like Phúc Long’s attempt at the format, the truffle is all too fleeting here as well.
• (Note for vegetarians: this truffle filling is built on a savory beef base.)

Vegan Mung Bean with Pine Nut & Pandan Coconut — Annam Gourmet (3/5)

• Housed in a slightly doughier, oilier plant-based crust, the filling is downright lush. A fragrant burst of pandan eventually mellows into a sweet, long-lasting aftertaste. Slices of fresh, crunchy coconut keep the creamy, custard-like filling from turning monotonous.

Proceed with Caution

Matcha Red Bean (Matcha Nhân Đậu Đỏ) — Phúc Long (2/5)

• A classic East Asian botanical pairing that unfortunately falls flat on execution. While the sweet red adzuki bean comes through clearly, the matcha is nearly undetectable. Worse yet, the center is weighed down by a dry, tough salted egg yolk. Nothing actively offensive here, but nothing to write home about either.

Taro (Khoai Môn Trứng Muối) — Cộng Cà Phê (1/5)

• This one is just a heartbreaker, especially for a die-hard taro lover like myself. Its main fault: being stripped of any complementary flavor notes or textural contrast. Cộng’s taro mooncake feels eerily like biting into a cold, plain, softly boiled potato. Not sure how this one passed quality control, but there’s a reason it was the last one left in stock by September’s end.

Saigon’s Best Dessert Mooncakes of 2026

Before we start this section, I have a confession to make. I tend to shy away from the very sweet dessert-masquerading mooncakes. That’s not to say these aren’t good; I have thoroughly enjoyed quite a few of them. Yet, there’s something fundamentally off about this lot.

Here’s my controversial take of the day: they’re not really mooncakes.

They’re western desserts conforming just enough to eastern palates. They ride the coattails of the holiday in hopes of commanding those high luxury margins. That’s not inherently wrong either. One of the things I love about Vietnamese food is their ability to seamlessly integrate flavors and styles from other cultures. To me though, this is a fundamentally different class.

For the chocolate lovers reading this: no hard feelings. I’ve included a special bonus just for y’all at the end.

🏆 Best in Class

Taro Macadamia — Annam Gourmet (4 / 5)

• Just as I was about to write off both Annam and taro in 2026, this one came at me like a dark horse. Imagine taking a velvety taro latte, crossing it with a buttery macadamia nut cookie, and baking it all into a pastry. Where Cộng’s plain taro stumbled, Annam’s interpretation soars. The filling is impossibly smooth and punctuated by crispy chunks of macadamia. The interplay is deeply satisfying. The salted egg yolk melts seamlessly into the background. This one is the right kind of decadent.

🚪 The Beginner’s Gateway

Yuzu Lava (Yuzu Lava Trứng Muối) — Bakes Saigon (4 / 5)

• New to mooncakes and want a phenomenal dessert without all the heavy bean pastes Asia is known for? This vibrant, citrus-curd crowd-pleaser is for you. By channeling the bright, zesty soul of a lemon meringue pie, Bakes’ Yuzu Lava nails the sweet and tart combo. Despite its rich appearance, it manages to remain light.

Worth the Calories

Tiramisu Coffee — Phúc Long (3/5)

• Unabashedly decadent, silky, and sweet. Phúc Long once again manages to negotiate between new and old here. This is a dessert lover’s nod to Vietnamese coffee culture. A bold roast flavor takes center stage and lingers throughout your tasting. Texturally, it manages to feel airy, though slightly chewier and stickier than a standard mooncake.

Caramel Macchiato — Bakes Saigon (3/5)

• I’m going to be honest. At this point, you’re eating a brownie and not a mooncake. You’re first met with a chewy crust clinging slightly to your teeth. Then, sensing a subtle coffee note that’s more of an aftertaste. It’s a safe, middle-of-the-road choice for sweet tooths. Just don’t expect it to carry the traditions.

Proceed with Caution

Chocolate Lava (Cho-co Lava Hạt Hồ Đào) — Cộng Cà Phê (2/5)

• Another member of the “secretly just a brownie” camp, and a fairly tame one at that. Its “lava” is, sadly, in name only. Its center refuses to ooze, and its chocolate profile feels surprisingly muted. Completely inoffensive, semi-sweet, and ultimately forgettable.

Vegan Coffee & Chocolate — Annam Gourmet (1/5)

• This one opens promisingly enough with an immediate hit of coffee. Then it manages to instantly nosedive. At best the chocolate comes off as somewhat weak. What you’re left with is a faint vegetable-oil aftertaste that lingers for all the wrong reasons. Another one to take up with the quality control lab.

Saigon’s Mooncake Merchants

Individual rankings may tell you which pastry to chase down, but they’re far from the whole story. Stepping back, we see that each merchant has a unique personality, baking quirks, and gifting value. Are you deciding where to spend your dong, or which box to bring to a mid-autumn gathering? Here is how Saigon’s main contenders stacked up across the board in 2026.

Cộng

Want the single best pastry of the 2026 season without shelling out for needlessly fancy packaging? (Let’s be real, you’ll probably be trashing that in seconds.) Head straight to Cộng Cà Phê.

Not only did Cộng claim our sole five-star rating of the year, they also walked away with two of our four Best in Class crowns, plus an Unconventional Creativity Award.

If that wasn’t enough, they achieved it all while remaining the most affordably priced in the lineup.

Cộng’s culinary superpower is light airiness paired with bright citrus. In a pastry format notorious for sitting like a brick in your stomach, Cộng repeatedly engineered fillings that felt refreshingly light on their feet. Their only catch? They’re a bit boom-or-bust: Cộng had the widest score swing of any merchant (1/5 to 5/5). When they stray into unadorned starchy pastes, the magic evaporates. Stick to their meat, fruit, and tea-infused creations, and they are nearly untouchable.

Cộng also earned major bonus points for having the longest selling season in Saigon. They hit the shelves a full two weeks ahead of the competition. Their dine-in experience is equally unmatched. Come for the nostalgia-soaked communal atmosphere and enjoy your mooncakes together with friends.

Bakes

Bakes Saigon was my favorite merchant overall last year. In 2026, they successfully defended their title. Bakes claimed the highest average score across their lineup and was the only merchant with zero duds. That’s right: not a single one of their seven mooncakes scored below a 3/5, with most living in the 4/5 range. That kind of consistency is rare and made it my go-to shop for both gifting and for facilitating mooncake introductions for newbies.

You certainly pay a premium for that consistency. Bakes is the most expensive stop on this list, but it also doubles as the most jaw-dropping gift in town.

Their 2026 packaging, designed in collaboration with The Lab Saigon, features striking, geometric, and hieroglyphic-like boxes. Guaranteed to win over friends, clients, and colleagues before they even lift the lid. Better yet, their highly decorative packaging includes reusable metal tins. Not only does this reduce waste, but they’ll beautifully meet your small storage needs for years to come. Though, if you’re looking for just a quick bite, it’s certainly overkill.

Flavor-wise, Bakes truly separates itself through signature French-patisserie restraint, especially when it comes to sugar and earthy botanicals. They swept both Best in Class and The Beginner’s Gateway Award in that category. They perform strongly even outside their forte. Bakes won the Dessert Gateway Award and an Unconventional Creativity Award in the Traditional Meat & Seafood category.

Rather than burying ingredients under heavy syrup, Bakes leans into bold, nuanced aromatics. Bursts of spice or tartness, whole-seed crunch, or silky smooth aftertastes are signatures. Even when a Bakes mooncake landed at a 3/5, it was never a flavor failure. Instead, it was usually a textural quirk or minor deficiency.

Phúc Long

A razor-close second in consistency, with mostly 4/5s, and just a single 2/5, Phúc Long is the sleeper hit of 2026. Well-priced, widely accessible, and deserving of a standing ovation for their individual packaging. Even if you only buy a single mooncake, the presentation is so sturdy and refined that it feels like a proper gift. Working through the Vọng Nguyệt Thưởng Danh Trà collection cemented my biggest personal revelation of the season:

Hot tea is a far better companion for mooncakes than coffee.

It’s all about cleansing the palate and allowing the subtle aromatics to bloom.

Fittingly, the tea house’s signature style is built around this: smooth, balanced fillings that linger and flow effortlessly across the tongue. That earned them two of our four Beginner’s Gateway Awards, taking top newcomer honors in both the Meat & Seafood and Fruit-Based leagues. They also had the best truffle mooncake of the season, earning the Unconventional Creativity Award in Botanicals.

The funniest plot twist of their entire lineup? For a heritage brand famous for its tea leaves, their lone misfire was their green tea offering! In a stunning reversal, their Tiramisu Coffee (3/5) was the best coffee dessert mooncake.

Annam Gourmet

If there was one laggard in 2026, it was Annam Gourmet. Their “gourmet” price tag certainly didn’t soften the blow either. I typically hesitate to include grocery store mooncakes in a craft ranking like this. However, Annam’s upscale reputation, fearless flavor catalog, and gorgeous Moonlight Cherish boxes earned them a seat at the table. Seriously, those boxes were easily the second-best boxset packaging of the year.

Annam’s bakery mechanics showed recurring flaws. Their crusts consistently ran thicker, doughier, and oilier than the boutique cafes. Their fillings felt overly dense. Their plant-based ambition was hit-or-miss. The biggest issue was Annam’s “Seafood Roulette”. Their gamble on luxury ocean ingredients varied wildly and didn’t pay off. Depending on which wrapper you open, you might pull the genuine textural feast, a vegetable-soup disappointment, or a fever dream that defied every convention.

Yet, just when I was ready to write off their entire lineup, Annam dropped an absolute masterpiece. Taro Macadamia (4/5) won our Best in Class Dessert Mooncake.

No other merchant came remotely close to nailing a nut-based or taro-based mooncake. In this way, Annam placed itself in a category of one.

That single mooncake is worth a dedicated trip.

When a French Chocolatier Crashes the Party

Yes, I too was surprised to learn that Vietnam’s legendary, French-founded, bean-to-bar chocolatier was in the mooncake game! I use the term “mooncake” extremely lightly here. Everything I mentioned about western desserts masquerading in mooncake clothing holds. If anything, it’s more true at Maison Marou than anywhere else in Saigon. Instead of a thin, golden pastry, Marou wraps its creations in distinctly bready, European-style tart crusts. They then fill them with thick dark chocolate ganache and praline.

To be completely honest, I walked away from my first tasting in disappointment. I realized later that it was only because I came in expecting… well… a mooncake! None of the traditional savory-sweet harmonies were anywhere to be found. Yet there was no denying the single-origin cacao and patisserie craftsmanship that define Marou’s style. I returned again, and this time, with a completely different mindset.

“I’m coming here to enjoy a rich European dessert with an Asian flair.”

That mental shift made all the difference.

My later experiences were superb, peaking when I dispensed with tradition altogether. Pro tip: every drink order comes with a side of fresh whipped cream. Dollop it right on top of the “mooncake” and proceed to eat it as a Frenchman in Paris would: fork and knife in hand. While this would be a completely alien way to approach a Bánh Trung Thu, it works exceedingly well at Marou.

If you’ve got a sweet tooth and decide to explore their four-flavor Golden Medley lineup, here is how they stack up:

1. Mandarin Marmalade (Mứt Quýt & Sô-cô-la)

This one was the standout. Much to my surprise, mandarin marmalade came closest to capturing the traditional mid-autumn spirit. Much like the candied citrus that made modern fruit mooncakes shine, the bright, tangy bitterness of the marmalade cut right through Marou’s rich dark chocolate, giving the pastry a vibrant lift.

2. Mixed Fruit (Trái Cây Hỗn Hợp & Sô-cô-la)

As with marmalade, I was concerned it would fall into the excessively sweet category. Yet, both managed to be well restrained. The dried fruit, dominated by plump raisins, brought with it a springy, chewy consistency. It injected a much-needed airiness into the dense ganache. Better yet, that chewy texture actually made Marou’s breadier crust work far better.

3. Cashew Praline (Praline Hạt Điều & Sô-cô-la)

Marou gets points for effort here, but not for execution. Their signature chocolate profile (sweet, dark, and bitter) is distinctly present. Regardless, I found this one slightly disappointing on two fronts. First, the filling was closer to a heavy peanut or cashew butter than a delicate French praline. This only compounded, rather than complemented, a weightier crust. Second, you could feel the crunch of raw sugar grains between your teeth on every bite. While it was an intriguing swing at a textural contrast, the grittiness made the pastry feel rushed rather than refined. This is all coming from a huge praline fan too.

4. Coconut Coffee Praline (Praline Dừa Cà Phê & Sô-cô-la)

Rounding out the bottom of the quartet is another pastry that broke my heart. Of the whole lineup, this should’ve been a guaranteed slam dunk. I love coconut in every one of its forms, but this combination somehow landed with a shrug. Nothing offensive and nothing captivating; just plain “okay.” For a chocolatier of Marou’s caliber, creating a completely forgettable signature is certainly a letdown. A bit embarrassing even, as Phúc Long (a tea house) executed better on a similar concept.

Closing Remarks

By the time you’re reading this, the paper lanterns have come down. The pop-up booths have vanished, and the menus returned to normal. Saigon’s 2026 mooncake season is officially in the rearview mirror. Unless you have a secret stash hidden in your pantry (I would buy it off you immediately), you can’t actually get a single cake on this list. Not right now and possibly never again. Honestly, that’s part of the magic.

A pastry this rich and storied was never meant to be an everyday snack; it’s an annual ritual worth counting down to. Its ephemeral nature is why I look forward to this season every year. My goal in putting my palate (and bloodstream) through a 30-cake stress test was to gift you a lay of the land.

More importantly, I hope to leave you excited for what’s possible when tradition meets a little creativity.

That lack of fear and desire to put a modern twist on proud traditions is one of my favorite things about Vietnam. Next year, when Cộng Cà Phê inevitably kicks off the season, you’ll know exactly where to make your first port of call.

If you love airy, citrus-kissed fruit and classic thập cẩm on a budget, pull up a stool with friends at Cộng. If you’re a newcomer looking for a gentle entry point, start with the gateway winners at Phúc Long. When you’re ready to splurge on show-stopping packaging, patisserie-level botanicals, or venture into the sweeter side of seafood, head straight to Bakes. If you’re an adventurous eater spinning the wheel at Annam Gourmet, or even a Francophile reaching for whipped cream at Maison Marou, the season will have something to offer you.

Bookmark this guide for next year and brew yourself a good pot of tea. Until next year.

Saigon’s Mooncake Renaissance was originally published in Digital Global Traveler on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

It’s still dark when Bà wakes Thức, his parents gone to work, and still dark when they reach the market. Light bulbs flicker, swaying on their wires. Along the laneway, the fishmongers are at work, slapping silvery bodies against their boards, scales flying as they scrape. Thức’s uniform is freshly cleaned and he’s not allowed to touch anything wet, so Bà sets him on an upturned crate behind her stall and lights the little gas burner. School is a whole morning away. Already the air presses warm against his face, thick with salt and diesel and the sweet smoke of old men’s cigarettes.

Thức peers along the laneway, trying to see who is at work. He hopes Dì Sáu is here. She always gives him one of her homemade kẹo me, though her hands smell like fish and she teases him constantly. Yesterday she flicked a handful of water at him when he leaned too close to her bucket, causing him to panic. Bà would have scolded him no end if it had ruined his uniform. Seeing the look on his face, Dì Sáu laughed so loudly the other fishmongers turned round.

Cô Lan is his favourite because she has the best xôi. She always has a smile for him and he loves unwrapping the banana leaf and letting the coconut-scented steam escape. Sometimes there’s even a surprise mung bean filling. Yes, Cô Lan is definitely number one. Ranking aunties and uncles by the snacks they give him is one of Thức’s favourite games.

He will visit Chú Năm too. Thức thinks the snacks that always sit on Chú Năm’s workbench make him number two.

At the far end he sees Ông Hùng buying a newspaper and reminds himself to stay out of his way.

Thức strains to see further as the light turns grey. Bà says he’s not allowed to leave the crate until she clicks off the bulb above her stall. This is the first of her three rules: stay on the crate, stay clean, eat before school. So every morning he sits, trying not to fidget as she chops and slices and bashes stalks of lemongrass, sending citrusy freshness into the air. Bà has had the same noodle stall at the market for forty years now. Thức can’t imagine doing anything for forty years.

Running through the alleyways and visiting aunties and uncles is so much better than sitting still, so he keeps one eye on the bulb.

Finally it goes out. Thức is up before Bà can speak, asking if he can go see Cụ Bảy, whose stall is the third one down from Bà’s, under the green awning.

She tells him to be careful and not to get dirty as she smooths his hair and adjusts his collar. She’s always worrying herself about how he looks. Thức doesn’t understand why.

As soon as she lets him go, Thức rushes off down the alley, playing hopscotch around the puddles of overnight rain. Cụ Bảy never has anything for him, but Thức always visits her first. She is the oldest in the market and everyone makes sure to greet her each morning. Cụ Bảy doesn’t talk much, but he senses she likes having him there. Sometimes they just sit quietly in between customers, which is fine by Thức. He’s never quite sure what he should say to Cụ Bảy anyway.

Around the corner with the butcher stalls that smell like copper, he finds Chú Năm bent over his sewing machine. Chú Năm is always busy, but he’s happy to see Thức and lets him hold thread and spare buttons as he repairs another pair of trousers. Thức is careful not to drop anything, he doesn’t want to let Chú Năm down.

Thức is fascinated by Chú Năm’s sewing machine and the speed of the tailor’s hands. Everything’s a blur. Thức thinks Chú Năm can stitch a tear faster than anyone. He asks Thức about school and the latest episode of Thần đồng đất Việt while he works and lets him help himself to the tin of salted peanuts.

As the sun gains strength, shoppers crowd the market. Prices and counter-offers fly back and forth over Thức’s head, until even the rattle of the sewing machine is drowned out by the shouting. Chú Năm is busy pinning hems and measuring customers waists with his blue tape, so Thức thinks it’s time to move on. He waves goodbye and scampers towards Bác Hai’s cart at the corner of the market. The heat is making him thirsty.

Thức isn’t allowed coffee and thinks it tastes awful anyway. The only good thing about coffee is the smell. But Bác Hai also has sữa đá, which is delicious and refreshing, so he decides to order one. Bà will pay Bác Hai later, on one of her delivery rounds. As he approaches, he can hear ice clinking in glasses.

He stops short. He sees Ông Hùng perched on one of the low plastic stools that surround the cart, engrossed in his newspaper as he sips a cà phê đen. Ông Hùng terrifies Thức. His face is covered in wrinkles and he’s never seen him smile. Ông Hùng is tall and very thin, and when he walks, he drags one of his legs. Bà says he was a soldier a long time ago and to leave him be, but Thức doesn’t know anything about that. He just knows the stool next to Ông Hùng is always empty, even when others are standing, and Thức thinks that’s rude.

Careful not to make eye contact with the old man, Thức edges up to the cart and asks Bác Hai for his milk. As she passes him the glass he notices a stranger sitting with a drink on one of the other stools. He is drinking a cà phê đá and has a big camera on his knee. This stranger’s skin is very white and his eyes under his hat are a strange pale colour. His shirt sticks to his back and Thức thinks he looks very unwell. He stares at the man until Bác Hai scolds him.

Thức gulps down his sữa đá and stands to return the glass, but still unnerved by Ông Hùng, he fumbles, watching in horror as it slips from his hands and shatters on the concrete. Sticky condensed milk splashes up and over his school uniform. Heads turn. Out of the corner of his eye, he thinks he sees Ông Hùng flinch. The newspaper trembles.

Thức tries to think of a solution as he stares down at the shards. This will mean trouble with Bà. She will have to pay for it.

Wide-eyed, he looks to Bác Hai for help, but Bác Hai only laughs and beckons him over to wipe at the spots. Better, but his clothes are still wet, and he needs to get back to Bà.

Thức doesn’t see the figure sweeping the broken glass, dragging one leg as he works.

He sets off for Bà’s stall, his feet finding the way without him while he rehearses what he’ll say. It slipped. It was an accident. It wasn’t really his fault. Twice he stops to pick at his shirt. He dodges swirling scooters and the warm breath of their exhaust. His shadow has shrunk to a puddle around his feet. Usually this would tell him he should already be back, but today his head is too full of the glass and what Bà will say.

It’s only when Thức almost runs into Anh Khoa’s motorbike that he remembers school. Anh Khoa is balanced on top, napping with his feet on the handlebars and fingers clasped behind his head. Anh Khoa always sleeps like this after finishing his deliveries, which is about the time Bà will have his meal ready for him. She always says a hungry stomach can’t learn. Thức isn’t sure it works like that, but Bà will be upset if he doesn’t eat, so he starts to run.

Around, over and under the tangle of legs, brooms and shopping bags, Thức sprints, skidding past the fishmongers washing down their stations. Dì Sáu cackles as he rushes past and he veers away from the spray of her hose. Through a fence he can see a stream of identical shirts glaring in the hard white light. He knows he’s almost out of time.

A sharp, salty smell: Thím Chín Khô’s dried shrimp and anchovies. Good, almost there. Thím Chín Khô’s stall is across from Bà’s.

Bà’s pot smells of sour tomato and sweet crab and it glows orange as she stirs. Practising best behaviour, Thức heads for the upturned crate and sits as straight and still as he can. Bà, though, doesn’t say anything about his shirt. She only passes him the bowl of bún riêu and tells him to hurry up but to be careful not to spill any. Strange. Bà notices everything. Thức sneaks a glance at the spots on his uniform and sees they are gone. A miracle! Then he realises: the hot sun and sprint through the market must have dried them.

Overcome with relief and feeling a little stupid, Thức lets his mind wander again and doesn’t feel the crab meat slide from his chopsticks. Bà is already crossing the stall, damp cloth in hand. Thức doesn’t understand what’s happening until he looks down at the bright orange stain on his white shirt.

Oh no.

This story is a retelling of a project made years ago after visiting Chợ Bà Chiểu in Saigon. It was created from a conversation I had with Thức and his grandmother later that day through an interpreter. I had no direct quotes to include and of course had to imagine what Thức was thinking, but the people are real and the setting and details are as they described them, with some extra research to fill the gaps.

The original story focused on my own experience of that day as an outsider, and I think it’s interesting to compare the two viewpoints as a reminder of how differently we all see the world. Read the original version here.

All Images by Mark Eden.

This story was originally published in Wayward, a monthly newsletter of travel photography and stories. Subscribe at markeden.com.au/newsletter

Back to Chợ Bà Chiểu was originally published in Digital Global Traveler on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

BestQuest may earn a commission from qualifying purchases made through links in this article. This does not affect our editorial conclusions. Affiliate Disclosure.

Paris-Beauvais makes the word “Paris” sound optimistic. The airport sits well north of the city, so if you need a car rather than a shuttle into town, the options get expensive fast. Airport pickups also tend to cost more, since rental companies pay higher fees to operate there and pass them on.

That was my situation on a recent trip. I wanted a small car for two days, and booking direct was pricier than I was willing to pay. So I went looking elsewhere, and Auto Europe came back with a much better rate. I booked it, and for me it worked.

Who you’re actually renting from

Auto Europe didn’t hand me the keys. My voucher was for a two-day rental from Europcar at Beauvais: a Renault Clio “or similar,” economy class, five doors, manual, air conditioning. The price covered unlimited mileage, third-party liability, mandatory taxes and fees, and fire insurance. Auto Europe made the reservation, and Europcar supplied the car.

That split is the most important thing to understand about the service. Auto Europe is a broker, not a rental company. It has been around since 1954, says it works with Europcar, Avis, Budget, Hertz and a range of regional suppliers, and advertises more than 28,000 locations. Its pitch is buying power and convenience: you search once, it shows rates from several suppliers, and sometimes its negotiated price beats what you’d find directly.

The voucher is clear that Auto Europe acts only as the booking agent. The actual rental contract is signed with the supplier at the counter, which means local charges, optional extras and most desk-level problems fall under that second contract. When everything goes smoothly, you’ll barely notice the distinction. When something goes wrong, it’s the whole story.

Read the voucher

To be fair, the voucher was more thorough than I expected. It told me in advance that I’d need a physical driver’s license and a physical credit card in the main driver’s name. It listed a €500 deposit and a full-to-full fuel policy, and it said debit cards and cash wouldn’t be accepted for the deposit. Extras were itemized: an additional driver was €31.06 per rental and GPS was €46.01. Return the car below full and you’d pay the missing fuel plus a €30 refueling fee.

It sounds dull until you’re standing at the counter and your card gets declined. A cheap booking is worthless if you can’t actually pick up the car. The voucher also warned that local extras can carry airport surcharges and that fee estimates may change, so it pays to read it properly rather than skim.

That’s also why I’d no longer compare a headline price from Auto Europe against a headline price from Europcar without opening both sets of terms. Europcar itself advises checking that a third-party booking includes everything you need, because missing options get charged at the desk. Sometimes the broker really is cheaper. Sometimes the two prices just include different things.

Two very different sets of reviews

When I looked, Auto Europe’s European Trustpilot page showed roughly 2.8 out of 5 from about 1,700 reviews. The average isn’t the interesting part; the spread is. About 63% of reviews were five stars and around 20% were one star. Hardly anyone is lukewarm. Most people book, pick up the car and forget about it, while a minority hit a problem and have a miserable time.

One four-star reviewer captured it well: the prices and service were good, but the local supplier later tried to add a charge that took real effort to reverse. That’s the broker model in a sentence. The booking can be fine while the supplier is the problem, and then you find out how much help the middleman actually is.

Customer support is the worry

This is what would make me more cautious today than the star rating alone. Auto Europe advertises seven-day assistance and says you can manage reservations through your account. But recent 2026 reviews keep returning to the same complaints: trouble reaching a human, slow or automated replies, and long waits on refunds and protection claims. One longtime customer said they’d always been happy with the prices and service but could no longer find a practical way to get in touch when they needed help. Others described waiting weeks on damage claims or supplier disputes.

A recent Reddit thread was more alarming. A traveler arrived in Iceland to find the rental company Auto Europe had booked apparently no longer operating. Auto Europe reportedly promised a refund and reimbursement for a replacement car, but weeks later the customer was still waiting. Another Redditor’s damage-protection claim took around two months and several rounds of paperwork, though they said it was eventually approved and paid.

These are individual stories, not proof that every claim goes badly. The pattern is consistent enough that I’d take it seriously.

Think hard about damage protection

Auto Europe sells its own protection products, and they don’t all work the way counter insurance does. With some, you may be charged by the rental company first and then have to claim the money back from Auto Europe. Its terms describe the Refundable Excess product as a service rather than insurance, and a claim requires documents such as the rental agreement, damage report, police report where relevant and proof of payment. Its Full Damage Protection covers more, but exclusions and paperwork still apply.

So there’s a real trade-off. The rental company’s own full coverage costs more, but a covered accident can often be settled directly with the company that holds your contract. The broker’s product may be cheaper, but if the supplier bills you €1,000 for damage, you pay first and chase the refund later. Given the recent support complaints, I’d read that section of the booking very carefully.

“Or similar” means it

My voucher never guaranteed a Clio. The terms say that unless a specific model is expressly guaranteed, the supplier can substitute a similar or upgraded car. That’s standard in the industry, and for a cheap economy car I don’t care whether the badge says Renault, Peugeot or Opel. If you need room for five adults and four suitcases, or a particular transmission, it matters a lot. Some recent complaints involve disputes over whether a substitute was really equivalent. I’d use a broker with confidence for “a small car, please” and with much less for “this exact SUV, with luggage for five.”

Cancellation

Auto Europe’s current rules generally allow cancellation without its fee up to 48 hours before pickup. Inside that window, a refund may not be available, and changes can mean a new price.

Would I book it again?

Yes, but selectively. My reasons held up: an expensive airport location, an ordinary budget car, a clearly better price, and a voucher that told me exactly who would supply the car. In that situation, Auto Europe made sense. I’d do it again if the saving were meaningful and the supplier were a company I was happy to rent from.

But I wouldn’t judge a booking by price alone anymore. Before paying, I’d check the supplier, deposit, card requirements, coverage, fuel policy and any extras payable locally. I’d save the voucher offline and photograph the car carefully at pickup and return. And if the trip mattered a lot, or I needed an exact vehicle or fast support, I’d compare the direct price first and ask whether the saving justified adding a middleman.

That’s how I see Auto Europe: a price-finding and booking layer between you and the rental company. When it saves you real money and nothing goes wrong, it’s very useful. When something does go wrong, it’s one more party between you and a solution. Know that trade-off before you book.

Check current Auto Europe prices →

Originally published at https://bestquest.net on October 13, 2026.

Auto Europe Review 2026: Good Prices, but Should You Book? was originally published in Digital Global Traveler on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

BestQuest may earn a commission from qualifying purchases made through links in this article. This does not affect our editorial conclusions. Affiliate Disclosure.

You get to the rental desk and the agent explains that your booking includes insurance, but you’re still liable for the first €1,000 or €1,500 of any damage. For another €20 or €30 a day, they’ll remove that excess. Cover4Rentals is one of the better-known ways of not paying it.

It isn’t a cheaper copy of the desk product, though. It’s excess reimbursement insurance: you buy a policy in advance, and if the rental company charges you for covered damage, you pay first and claim the money back. The deposit and the charge don’t disappear at the desk.

I looked at the current UK and EU policy wordings, independent comparisons, customer reviews and a 2026 Financial Ombudsman decision. For the right traveller it’s a strong option. It also has eligibility rules and practical trade-offs that are easy to miss before you decline the rental company’s cover.

How it works

Say your rental includes Collision Damage Waiver with a €1,500 excess. You scrape a wall and the company charges your card. You then send Cover4Rentals the documents it asks for (the rental agreement, proof of the charge, a card or bank statement, your licence) and claim the eligible amount back. The claims page lists the requirements.

The rental company doesn’t have to approve your policy. According to the FAQ, you can decline their waiver and claim later if you incur a covered charge.

The catch is cash flow. You still need enough available credit for the company’s deposit, and enough to cover a damage charge while the claim is processed.

Price

Independent evidence suggests the saving is large. In its 2026 car-hire insurance comparison, “Which?” priced a week in Spain at £12.24 for Silver and £14.36 for Gold. Annual European cover was £30.50 and £33. Both policies scored 89% and were named Best Buys. Those are March 2026 prices for a set test scenario, not live quotes.

“Which?” found rental-company protection cost about eight times more than specialist insurance on average. Its most dramatic example, Europcar’s Premium Protection at £287 for the week, was closer to 23 times the specialist price. Your own quote will depend on where you live, where you’re going and for how long.

Silver or Gold

The two tiers differ by market, so read the wording for your own residency.

The EU wording (v1.3.2, 1 May 2026) gives Silver a €10,000 limit and Gold €12,000. Both cover the roof, underbody, tyres and wheels. Gold adds interior damage, car-club rentals, business use and higher limits on smaller benefits. The UK wording (v1.5, 25 March 2026) differs: UK Silver already includes interior damage, and the limits and CDW provisions aren’t the same.

“Which?” scored both tiers identically and didn’t think Gold was necessary for a standard European holiday rental. For an ordinary leisure trip, price Silver first. Pay for Gold only if a Gold-only benefit applies to you.

Single trip or annual

If you rent once a year, buy single-trip. If you rent two or three times, annual cover often works out cheaper.

Annual policies renew automatically. Cover4Rentals says you can switch this off in MyAccount or by contacting them, and that it sends a reminder beforehand. Even so, unexpected renewals come up repeatedly in Feefo complaints, and the company’s replies say renewal is agreed at purchase. If you don’t want it, turn it off the day you buy.

What customers say

On 23 October 2026, Trustpilot showed 4.7/5 from 3,725 reviews, 82% of them five-star and 6% one-star. Feefo, which collects reviews from verified purchasers, showed 4.4/5 across 1,934 reviews.

Ratings from people who’ve only bought a policy tell you little about an insurer. Claims stories tell you more. One October 2026 Trustpilot reviewer paid the rental company for damage and was reimbursed in about three weeks, and Feefo has other verified customers describing successful claims. The complaints are the familiar ones: repeated requests for paperwork, slow replies, online glitches and surprise renewals.

The exclusions are the real risk

The policies exclude vans, pickups, motorhomes, campervans, minibuses, trucks, motorcycles and off-road vehicles, and set limits on vehicle age, value, seats, driver eligibility and use. Some countries are excluded too, as are areas under government travel warnings.

Specific rental companies are excluded as well, and the lists differ. The EU wording rules out hires from Green Motion, Wheego and Panek. The UK wording names only Wheego and Panek. If you read just the general FAQ, you’d miss that.

A 2026 Financial Ombudsman decision ( DRN-6256137) shows the risk in practice. A customer with a 12-month policy rented a pickup, and the company charged him for a windscreen chip. His claim was refused because pickups are excluded. The Ombudsman accepted that the exclusion was in the policy documents but found it hadn’t been made clear enough during the sale. Eversure had already refunded the £59.99 premium as a goodwill gesture. The Ombudsman upheld the complaint and ordered a further £40.98, covering the rest of the £100.97 loss.

It’s one decision, not evidence that valid claims are routinely refused. It does show that “rental car” doesn’t mean every vehicle a rental company will hand you the keys to.

Who is behind it

Cover4Rentals is a brand, not an insurer. UK policies are sold by Eversure Limited (company number 06751893, FCA firm reference 501311), which you can check on the FCA register. EU policies are distributed by Eversure Cell of Jatco Insurance Brokers PCC Ltd (MFSA reference ECEL2–21196) and underwritten by Collinson Insurance Europe Limited. The MFSA register has the details.

Who it suits, and who should look elsewhere

It suits someone renting an ordinary passenger car from a covered company, with a credit card and plenty of headroom, who will photograph the car at pickup and return and keep every document. Reimbursement insurance runs on evidence, so take pictures of every side, the wheels and glass, and get existing damage written on the rental company’s condition report.

Be more careful if you’re renting an unusual vehicle, travelling with a debit card or a low limit, or heading somewhere near the edge of the covered area. “Which?” notes that the rental company’s own waiver can cut the excess to zero, and with it the large deposit or charge. On a short trip with a modest credit limit, paying extra for that is perfectly reasonable.

Cover4Rentals isn’t the only specialist insurer. The same “Which?” comparison includes SimplyExcess, Gigasure, ReduceMyExcess, Bettersafe and iCarhireinsurance.com, several with strong scores. We haven’t compared live quotes across them, so this isn’t a claim that Cover4Rentals is always cheapest. For an expensive or long rental, get two or three quotes for the same dates and compare them with the rental company’s price.

Before you buy

1. Is your rental company covered under the policy for your country of residence?
2. Is your exact vehicle type eligible?
3. Does your rental already include CDW, or do you need optional CDW cover?
4. Can your card handle the deposit and a temporary damage charge?
5. Are you choosing Gold for a real difference in cover?

If the policy fits your rental, Cover4Rentals can undercut the rental desk by a wide margin. If it doesn’t, another specialist policy or the rental company’s own waiver may be the better buy.

Check current Cover4Rentals cover and pricing →

Originally published at https://bestquest.net on October 23, 2026.

Cover4Rentals Review 2026: Cheaper Excess Insurance? was originally published in Digital Global Traveler on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

You’ve seen the movie. Alien craft fly over the country, telepathically imprinting an image of somewhere into hapless suburbanites. Before the Internet, no one had a clue where Devil’s Tower was.

Now they do, and you can practically Uber there.

Devil’s Tower is an impressive hunk of rock near the Wyoming/South Dakota border, and for some looney reason it was on my bucket list.

Maybe I was imprinted too.

Or just a fool for the open road.

AI disclosure: I wrote this piece. The misspellings are Grammarly’s fault. It’s supposed to know better.

Why we travel

Someone asked me recently what I get out of travel. My answer was hardly brilliant. What do you get out of oxygen, sunshine, gravity?

The lure started early.

In my 20s, I pasted an old Nike advertisement on a wall. In it, a lone hiker trudged through a rain-swept forest, shrouded in a neon poncho. The tagline became my motto.

“You won’t know if you don’t go.”

Travel is magnetism on a molecular level. I don’t need a reason.

Devil’s Tower was like that. A geographical itch that wouldn’t go away.

I was practically giddy when it came into view.

Aliens aside, what is it?

Apparently, that is up for debate. It might be the fossilized gizzards of an ancient volcano, or a hunk of magma that never reached geologic glory by erupting over the landscape.

Either way, the symmetrical, polygonal columns had me salivating. The whole thing resembles an upside-down artichoke heart. I wanted to rip it out of the ground and dip it in mayonnaise.

Two trails circumnavigate the tower. The inner trail is paved, while the outer is dirt and rough in spots. I took the latter. It wandered through ponderosa pines and across red sandstone bluffs. The views of the surrounding farmland were bucolic and surprisingly hilly given the area’s reputation for being flat and nondescript.

After the hike, I returned to the visitor’s center and snagged a sticker to commemorate my conquest.

Bucket list — check!

Other adventures

Next up was a drive through Spearfish Canyon where I laid down some rubber to ogle mountain goats munching roadside shrubbery.

Mountain goats don’t belong below treeline where they use towering cliffs to escape predators. What did the barista put in my coffee?

Turns out I was hallucinogen-free. Canada gave the U.S. six mountain goats in the 20s, and they escaped their enclosure in nearby Custer State Park to run amok, breed, and cause “goat jams” throughout the Black Hills.

A trail with a view

I camped near the town of Sundance on a tiny knoll covered in ponderosa and surrounded by local ranches. No mountain goats, but a lonesome Angus, separated from the herd, moaned from a nearby hillside. His 6:30 AM serenade validated my love of Ribeye steaks.

A trail system intersected the campground, and I walked a six-mile loop through birch- and aspen-lined gullies, showy in yellow and gold.

I was blessedly alone with the swaying grasses, crackling leaves, and wild turkeys.

Logistical tidbits

• Gas stations are sparse in WY. Plan accordingly.
• Parking is limited at Devil’s Tower. The Park Service uses a portable stoplight to control traffic. Wait times can be exorbitant. Even in September, cars waited in line as I headed out.
• Near Spearfish Canyon is the western town of Deadwood. I popped in for lunch and some whisky tasting. The buildings are authentic, the gunfights less so.
• On the way to Deadwood is the small town of Lead. It has more esoteric shops than any town in WY deserves. I needed an extra bag for the rocks and tarot guides I snapped up.
• If you're coming from afar, be sure to see Mount Rushmore, Badlands National Park, and the critters in Custer State Park.

And remember, you don’t need a reason. Sometimes a hunk of rock is all it takes.

“Get out the map, get out the map, and lay your finger anywhere down. We’ll leave the figure’in to those we pass on the way outta town” — Indio Girls

Devil’s Tower Country was originally published in Digital Global Traveler on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

A star U.S. consultant arrives in Thailand to pound a business control system into place, but soon discovers the Land of Smiles runs on its own subtler system — of sweetness, smiles, and gentle chaos.

“Go ahead. You can send me any place, any time,” he often challenged his top bosses at Management Systems Inc. “And I’ll always get the job done, perfectly! Count on it.”

It sounded like hubris but was also true.

Harry Hammerschmidt always did deliver.

His track record was an unbroken string of successes that sparkled like diamonds. He flawlessly installed MSI’s complex, state-of-the-art business systems all around the world, having already traveled to a score of U.S. states, several European countries, the Middle East and even Japan.

Everybody at the gleaming glass headquarters tower in Minneapolis revered him as Harry the Hammer. The nickname reflected the harsh methods he employed during customer engagements. It was said that Harry drove client teams like he was pounding nails.

Management Systems Inc. recently closed on a lucrative new contract with Thailand’s largest conglomerate. The deal marked an entry into the desirable new market of Mainland Asia. A satisfied customer in The Kingdom could serve as the springboard to further profitable business in the likes of Malaysia, Singapore, Cambodia and Indonesia.

With this engagement thus being so critical, it was a no-brainer for the higher-ups at MSI to send Harry.

Having long mastered the drill, Harry always followed a strict routine. Once a contract was inked, he would jet off the very next day and book a midrange hotel suite near the client’s office. The project in Bangkok could thus take off in a figurative heartbeat and, for the next half a year or more, Harry would rule over an unlucky team of client’s staff like an utter tyrant, grinding out work 24/7.

This would be his first-ever trip to Southeast Asia and The Hammer relished the new challenge, a chance to expand the geographic scope of his victory portfolio. He tut-tutted those few concerns expressed by worrywarts that he might encounter some cultural trouble in Thailand. “What, me, trouble?” he laughed. “In Mangoland? Ha, I think not.”

But it was true he was landing there as a total Western rookie, an utter newbie, absolutely unprepared for any cultural collisions that might drift his way.

Only years later would he be able to look back with the bemused understanding of retrospective wisdom, and realize how this posting, from the start, had all the makings of a bizarre social science experiment gone awry . . . almost as if some top dog at MSI had decided to play an elaborate practical joke.

Moments after first landing in Bangkok, his attention could only focus upon a single overwhelming reality: the unrelenting, god-awful heat. Criminey, it was a shocking 95 degrees on March 1! Back home in Minneapolis, snow was still on the ground with daily highs only touching the low 40s and below-freezing overnight.

Sweating profusely, he wiped his brow and pulled at the Minnesota Vikings polo shirt that stuck to him.

Hmm, what had he gotten himself into? Exactly what kind of place was this Thailand? For one thing, evidently, the type of place that had no winter. As a creature of the frozen plains and forests of the Land of a Thousand Lakes, he could only laugh sardonically at that.

Yes, it promised to be an interesting, perhaps even entertaining, six to nine months. Imagine, no wintertime! Weird. But that initial realization only made clear how utterly little he knew about The Kingdom. Nothing. As in nada, zilch.

Not really his fault. The assignment had come up so suddenly, just a matter of days, that he’d had no time to bone up on the destination. Only enough to drop everything, turn off the utilities, lock up his Minneapolis penthouse condo and hop a Thai Air flight to Bangkok.

He took a six-month lease on a junior suite at the Thai Central Hotel, comfortable lodgings overlooking Chatuchak Park. Most important, just a quarter mile from the Regal Group offices that occupied all upper floors of the impressive, modern-looking office complex called Full Moon Towers. Anticipating many nights working late, a quick commute home was critical.

On Day One he marched into the Full Moon Towers lobby at 7 a.m. and found it already swarming with people. He was struck by how lovely the women all looked, dressed to the nines and simply gorgeous to a jaded, long-divorced American. On the other hand, to his Western eye, all the Thai businessmen milling about appeared overly young, as if fresh out of college, although carefully groomed and stylishly attired. The contrast was enormous with the uber casual standards that reigned back in Minnesota — he looked but no gym shoes, jeans, nose rings or purple hair were anywhere to be seen.

Harry approved of this throwback feel, finding it odd but welcome. Bangkok might be a place where women still tried to look good for men. Yes, please, I’ll have more of that. Hmm, maybe he would like it there, after all. But in the next moment he stopped lying to himself. None of that really mattered at all — he was only there to do a job. Period. Harry the Hammer? Try Harry the Hermit.

He searched the cement and glass lobby, an austere modernist design, for the information desk but his eyes were mainly drawn to all the gaudy colors at a tumbledown retail stand selling pirated movies, shoved against a back wall with a thousand colorful DVD covers affixed. Disc were heaped atop several long tables into disorganized piles, each a foot high.

He strolled over for closer examination.

“Sawadee kha!” chirped a petite shopkeeper minding this slapdash store, then mumbling something to her assistant about the farang (was that him?). She emoted a high-voltage smile at Harry with symmetrical, perfect white teeth, beautiful brown eyes, dimples and long wavy hair. He actually felt like something smacked him, head on, a jolt. Geez, what was going on?

“Mister wan movie of Supa-man?” the shopkeeper sang in a sweet, babygirl-style voice. “Or maybe sir wan Sta Wah? Got all kind farang like! Cheap-cheap.”

He chuckled uncomfortably, a bit bewildered by this 7 a.m. dose of culture shock, amenable though it was. He ordered himself to get a grip but began thumbing through the stacks of videos on sale, each being contained within a clear, tough cellulite sleeve with full-color paper insert.

Hmm, could that baht price be right? Only about a buck each?

The selection was vast. There were pirated copies of seemingly any film one might ever wish to see, from Disney cartoons to Gone With The Wind to Asian porn to British golf instructional videos. Bruce Willis scowled up from several DVDs. There was also a smiling, long-haired Arnold Schwarzenegger, swinging a war hammer as Conan the Barbarian. Korean TV drama sets abounded.

Why, they are publicly flouting copyright laws! So out in the open, with no attempt at all to hide anything. How did they get away with breaking the law so blatantly? Surely the police could easily shut them down, no? Word must surely have already reached the authorities, no?

Then came the light — the cops were probably partners to this enterprise. Of course. Welcome to Mangoland! Harry felt like an innocent and even blushed. So innocent, wasn’t he?

But if anything, his DNA was crawling with practicality, so he considered making a purchase. Why not? Well, for one thing, perhaps the picture quality would not be very good. But sentenced to a half year of nights alone in his hotel room, some of these might come in handy to help kill time, regardless of quality.

“Miss, do you have any of the old Ocean’s 11 movies or — ”

Before he could even finish, she leapt into action. “Chai, yes! George Crooney, chai mai, kha?” Yes no, thanks? She dove into a massive stack of DVDs piled willy-nilly, with no apparent organization, and within in seconds fished out Harry’s requests.

Excellent! With a friendly smile, Harry then inquired after the old Austin Powers comedies or Godfather movies and in seconds had a stack of discs to put into his valise.

He strolled over to the lobby information desk. A young male security guard in a burgundy and gold uniform, as impressive as that of a Third World generalissimo, respectfully greeted him. “Sawadee khap!” the man said, placing his hands together as if praying as he bowed his head toward Harry.

Hey, there’s that move again. What was the story with that? He’d already seen it at the hotel check-in, when three lovely reception clerks all performed it, in unison. Now, at the office lobby, it again felt nice and respectful.

These were among the first of the thousands of wais Harry would experience during his stint in the Kingdom, but for now he could only speculate about the meaning. In cultural terms, he was truly green as grass, a wide-eyed innocent.

He handed a frosty white business card to the security man. It displayed the initials MSI in bold purple block script with clip art of a globe encircled by lightning bolts. “I’m Hammerschmidt. Here to see the Regal Group. They are expecting me.”

The officer studied the card, copied Harry’s name onto the visitor ledger and picked up a phone. He chatted with someone for a good while, laughing a lot, but finally hung up and smiled up at Harry. “Yes. You please go now, sir, 12 floor reception for Regal Group”. Harry noticed how that came out sounding like leception and legal. The mispronunciation was endearing.

The elevator doors swooshed open on twelve to present an airy, atrium-like room. The far wall glistened with shiny chrome and finished glass. Huge three-dimensional letters on the wall proclaimed The Regal Group and below that was a succession of smaller tiers, each in a different color with a separate floor number for Real Estate, Manufacturing, Transportation, Housing, Energy.

Hmm, impressive. A really big company, a true giant of Asian business. It reminded him how critical this contract was for MSI. The customer was Thailand’s largest conglomerate, purchasing MSI’s entire suite of leading-edge business control systems. The scope of work was massive and, ergo, massively profitable. This potentially could make his career. VP Hammerschmidt? He liked the sound of that.

The usual six-to-nine-month installation time frame might easily stretch out to a year or more. But no matter, he was okay with that — more than okay actually — because while on assignment Harry operated in his own self-contained ecosystem. Thailand would be no different.

Parachute him into a job location, anywhere, and he’d always be good. San Francisco or Somalia? Made no difference. He traveled with his own supplies, carried as extra luggage, schlepping cases of canned tuna and cartons of shrink-wrapped dried beef, boxes of health supplements (including extra fiber!) and protein packs.

Once on site, he only needed to find a reliable source of fresh eggs and veggies and, later, expand that to chicken or fish. And presto! He was good to go. Wherever he traveled, he stuck to bottled water and hardly ever fell ill.

On a typical day he’d rise at 4:30 a.m., work out in the hotel gym (multitasking by covering overnight emails while on the treadmill), and drink a protein shake for breakfast, a half dozen eggs blended with a vitamin mixture. He’d head off work at 7 and perhaps twelve hours later call it a day. Then he’d head back to the hotel, watch streaming news or sports on the net and sleep by 10. Next day (and every one after), rinse and repeat.

Saturdays and Sundays were also his work days, though he wasn’t always able to raise a full complement of staff on the weekends. People often went missing.

He gazed around the posh offices of Regal Group and immediately picked up on a cheery vibe there in the reception area. Staff constantly streamed through, passing right and left of him, model-gorgeous women in slinky dresses and long, cascading hair; boyish-looking young men in smart, tailored business suits. One after another, as they crossed by him, accorded him a wai, that same appealing prayer-like gesture. Fingertips touched, heads slightly bowed. As a bonus, many of the women also tossed in a cute little curtsy.

But what especially knocked him off balance was how so many of these strangers were addressing him by name, sort of. How did they already all know who he was? But instead of Mr. Hammerschmidt, some of the women, all smiles and batted eyelashes, called him an unusual version of his first name: “Khun Harry”.

Khun Harry? What was that?

This khun thing instantly felt excellent, far more than okay — friendly and familiar but still dignified. Respectful. He soon learned it meant something like sir or mister and was combined with one’s given name, sometimes a nickname, for an entirely appropriate form of address. Perhaps one day he might be known as “Khun Hammer?” That made him chuckle.

But he would also learn that superficial respect evidently only went so far. The rest must be earned. In all his previous assignments, Harry had become used to automatic direct access to top management, at will. So it caught him off guard when the top rulers of the Regal Group started proving evasive, often being unavailable for consulation. And when meetings were booked, they were often no-shows.

Forced to work the next tier down, Harry concluded that (despite all the courtesy and kindness and deference) some of the powerful men in the Regal pyramid probably viewed him with disdain, purely as just the hired help, a schlemiel imported to deliver the goods.

But somebody very high in the Regal command structure, probably the chairman, clearly wanted MSI’s systems badly, to better control the conglomerate. The next levels down — group heads — already understood the project would limit their power.

Well, Regal’s company politics would be no problem. The Hammer had dealt with this sort of roadblock before and knew how to finesse things and get things rolling.

The very first day, acting like he had been given carte blanc authority and liberally tossing around the chairman’s name (“The Chairman said I should blah blah . . .”), he commandeered a large conference room just down the hall from the boss’s office. He papered the glass walls opaque with rolls of white parchment and began to summon staff to preliminary meetings, hinting the chairman would also be attending. (A small enabling fib.)

First priority was a one-on-one sit-down with each of the group heads, to level-set expectations with those powerful division heads.

The Real Estate unit came first. He looked deeply into Khun Moo’s eyes and explained how the installation project would play out and demanded two of the unit’s very best people. Key players, six to nine months, 100 percent dedicated to Harry’s core team. “Sorry, but that’s the chairman’s orders!”

A top-notch, multi-talented work team was essential, so Harry commandeered the company’s stars, absconding with genius numbers wonks, brilliant hands-on line operations leaders, technical whiz managers, master coders, high octane business planners and spreadsheet masters.

The Thai/English language barrier would present a genuine challenge, but by liberally using the chairman’s name, he managed to snatch two of Regal’s sharpest young Thai MBAs from Harvard. They became Harry’s eyes and ears, facilitating and interpreting nearly everything. He knew — as did they — that after a year in this role they could write their own high-paying tickets at any international consulting firm across Asia.

Within a week, the core team was in place and everything starting to hum along.

Harry settled into his usual comfort zone, protected behind a fortified wall of proven work routines and effective processes. He recognized the familiar work rhythms typical to these projects, seen so many times before. It could have been Georgia, Madrid or Japan . . . it didn’t really matter.

No, there was no reason to expect Thailand would be any different. But after a month into his the job, The Kingdom threw him a curveball.

By early April Harry was spending every waking hour at his work bunker, the papered-over conference room at Full Moon Towers. His only real exposure to The Kingdom itself was during those few minutes after he left his hotel lobby and waded through early morning heat and humidity to jump into a taxi. Then, at Full Moon Towers, thirty more seconds of the same, until diving into the air conditioned lobby.

The end of the day was the same but in reverse.

Despite such an abbreviated exposure to Bangkok’s actual climate, he still noticed the temperature was growing hotter by the day. Already ferociously steamy when he arrived in early March, by a month later the average daytime highs were soaring into the mid-90s.

He stopped wearing his suit coat and slung it over his shoulder, but his dress shirt sweated-through each morning, anyway, before he could enter Full Moon Towers.

One day in early April, making his way to the bunker, The Hammer couldn’t help but notice a significant change in the general office atmosphere. Staff, normally upbeat, were outright laughing and nearly dancing at their desks, ensconced in joyful conversations. The elevated mood injected a nearly tangible buzz into the air. Something was going on, feeling like the run-up to a huge, wild party.

“Happy Songkran, Khun Harry!” piped up a shy secretary as he sauntered by. He stopped but she just looked down, lowering her head as if embarrassed by her own boldness.

Songkran? First time he’d heard that word. Wondered what it meant. And soon, others repeated the same greeting.

He sat in silence at the long, U-shaped conference room desk, pondering this. Odd, no staff had arrived yet, everybody was running late. Then the chairman’s secretary clicked in on black stiletto heels to deliver his daily steaming jumbo mug of coffee, fixed exactly the way he liked it. He loved the pampering, laughed and tried his hand at wai-ing her.

Oh shot him one of her dazzling smiles. “And Khun Harry going where for Songkran? Have plans, chai mai?” Yes no?

He had no idea what she was talking about. “Mai, Khun Oh. Nope, my plans are to keep working hard, just as always . . . and that goes for my team, too.”

Her head jerked back slightly in an involuntary motion, like from astonishment. An odd smile played across her face.

After just a handful of weeks in The Kingdom, Harry was already clued in that smiles there might mean anything . . . not just indicators of good mood. In fact, the biggest smile he’d seen so far came the other day, when he was furiously dressing-down a junior analyst for sloppy work. Despite being humiliated (or as Harry later learned, because of it), the fellow just grinned like a hyena as Harry lambasted him. Seemed awfully weird at the time.

So what was with that look from Oh, just now? There was something she wasn’t telling him. His team straggled in late — also very strange! — with an unusual, giggling mood seeming to infect them all, and it persisted, despite how hard he pushed them to grind away at the project’s unending tasks.

Lunchtime rolled around and several of them began to power down their computers and gather up various papers, snapping valises shut.

Hmm, Harry wondered, and just where did they think they were going? The ethos he had instilled in his team was to eat lunch at one’s desk and push on with the work, in between bites of fish curry and fried rice.

He waved over a key man, his project team’s six-foot-tall accounting manager, making him a giant by Thai standards. Harry laid a friendly but commanding hand on Boo’s shoulder.

“Listen, Khun Boo, I’m gonna need an updated draft of that master directory you’re working on, first thing tomorrow. It’s urgent. Also the customer database and the credit analysis. Those are both critical path now.” Boo remained silent and responded with just a strange look, as if mystified. “And hand it to me the minute I arrive tomorrow. And, Boo, don’t let me down — it needs to be perfect.”

Boo’s eyes only grew wider.

“Also, set up meetings for tomorrow afternoon, running late into the evening. An hour or two for each per group — Real Estate, Manufacturing, Transportation, Housing, Energy. And summon each’s unit’s GM, treasurer, chief accountant, and HR head. We need to review all this together. They must come. Use the Chairman’s name if you like.”

Boo, still remaining mute, just turned away. But Harry could see him making eye contact with others in the room, brows levitating everywhere. Was that amusement or shock? Some staff glanced over to surreptitiously check out Harry, but when eye contact was made, just offered a silent, sheepish grin.

Those Thai smiles! There they were again. Something was definitely going. And when staff didn’t return after lunch, all afternoon, he suspected a serious problem was brewing. But how serious, he wouldn’t discern until the next morning.

He woke and, as was his habit, looked out the hotel window. Unlike all other mornings today he only saw empty streets, not Bangkok’s usual madhouse traffic congestion. He slid the window open. With the usual vehicular gridlock gone, all the diesel fumes and smoke, the air seemed to smell sweeter and cleaner today. Was he just imagining that?

He looked up and, yes, the sky also definitely seemed bluer and cleaner, as if all The Kingdom’s industrial and transport polluters had been shut down. (As was indeed the case, he would later learn.)

The hotel lobby also seemed oddly empty. He had to wait several extra minutes at the vacant taxi rank — so strange! — until a vehicle finally pulled up. And when he rocked up at Full Moon Towers, he found all the doors locked, except one. He pushed it open and entered a dark and empty lobby. Not even the DVD stand had been set up this morning. Absent was the usual lively, colorful crowd milling about.

A lone security man was on duty at the desk and Harry approached him.

“Hey, chief, so what’s going on?”

“Ah, sawadee khap, Khun Harry! And Happy Songkran to you, sir.” He smiled at Harry and then giggled at a sudden idea. The guard held up a finger in the classic wait-a-minute gesture and reached into his drawer. In just a blink, he pulled out a gun and aimed it squarely at Harry’s chest!

What?

Utterly shocked, Harry couldn’t move, frozen in place and his brain unable to process any of this sudden development. He was about to be assassinated at Full Moon Towers.

But then, laughing, the guard pulled the trigger and a stream of colored water spurted out and trickled down the American’s shirt, staining his Hermes tie. “Hey!” sputtered Harry, not enjoying the joke at all. “What the hell was that? What’s going on around here, anyway? Where IS everybody, and why are the lobby lights turned off?”

The guard chuckled, his face a picture of pure joy. He didn’t seem to take Harry seriously at all. “Haha, so funny, Khun Harry! Why, yes, of course office closed today for Songkran holidays, chai mai?” Yes no?

Holidays, what holidays? Nobody told Harry anything about holidays.

“When did all this happen?”

“Why, every year, Khun Harry! Songkran alwahs coming at hottest time. Is like new year party for Thailand, haha! Everybody tossing water, purifying our lives. Is very sanuk, mai?” Fun, no?

The Hammer exhaled an angry snort and shook his head.

He stopped to think, assessing the damage. Well, this wasn’t fatal: it would just set work back a day, so no big deal. He’d just have to stretch the team’s work hours the rest of the week and make up lost time.

But then the guard’s next comment knocked him over.

“Chai! Thai people all leave Krung Thep,” he said, using the local name for Bangkok. “All go home, maybe upcountry. Everybody come back next week.” Evleeblody.

The hell, next week? The office was to stay shuttered and vacant for days and days? Nobody had bothered to tell him any of that. Now he understood all the uncomfortable smiles. They were all too afraid to level with him. Easier to avoid that conversation. And he finally understand what the chairman’s secretary was going on about, yesterday morning. Songkran.

“And what about Khun Harry?” bantered the security guard. “Going somewhere sanuk, for Songkran?

He sighed. “Me, sanuk? No, I really have no plans for sanuk. You see, I am not really much of a fun type of guy.”

The guard, not really following any of that, just shrugged and wai’ed Harry goodbye.

Finally resigned to lost work from an unexpected holiday week, Harry headed back to his hotel. For the moment, Harry The Hammer was out of nails.

With the passing weeks and months, Harry grew more tolerant of the scorching tropical heat, like building up climate scar tissue. And toward the tail end of the year, Bangkok’s daily highs and lows began to moderate a wee bit, down almost an unnoticeable degree per month.

But inside Full Moon Towers was an entirely different story.

In there, it grew relentlessly chillier by the day and by October, with the air conditioning running flat-out and full guns blazing, office staff responded by beginning to wear sweaters to the office.

Sweaters in the tropics? Madness! It made Harry chuckle.

But the trend continued on into November, when it eventually became downright cold inside the office tower. Harry fumed. What the hell was going on? This was the tropics! Even for a native Minnesotan, it was getting frigid there.

As was his way, he decided to take the matter into his own hands. See a problem, fix the problem. That was his style. So he marched over to the Regal chairman’s office and stopped at his secretary’s desk. Surely her boss could rectify the matter.

“Khun Oh, is the chief in?”

“Haha, Khun Harry, sorry but no. Mai mee!” Have none = not here. “Mr Thanawat he go Singapore today!” Oh was a fortyish but stunning woman, draped in pearls and a low-cut dress but also an expensive comforter over her shoulders. Much paler than even blond, blue-eyed Harry, who was of German-American stock, she hailed from a royal-connected family from the North, near Chiangmai. Tossing around the chairman’s authority at will, she wielded huge power at Regal.

She looked squarely at Harry. “But is Khun Harry having problem?” Ploblem. “Khun Harry is mai sabai?” Not happy? “Maybe Oh can help.” She smiled warmly at him.

“Yes, Khun Oh, and thank you. It’s not so much a problem for me as for my staff. If you just look around, you can see everybody in this office is freezing! People are coming to work in sweaters and jackets. Take you, with that wrap. And its even starting to get chilly for me, somebody used to Minnesota’s frigid tundra. Heh.”

“Tundra?” Tundla. “Oh mai khaojai.” Don’t understand. She scrunched her eyebrows and then, after a few seconds, exhaled a breathy laugh through her brilliant smile. “Chai, Full Moon Tower too cold? Khun Oh can ask building management to fix air con.”

There, that wasn’t so hard! Harry grinned.

He went back to work, relieved, but days passed and nothing seemed to happen . . . other than the office continuing to grow more Arctic-like by the day.

Staff further responded by thickening up their outer layers. Hoodies and light zip jackets began to appear. Even Harry temporarily admitted defeat and start to wear a cashmere sweater. His hands grew so dry and chapped in the cold that applied moisturizing lotion multiple times per day and habitually rubbed them for warmth.

He complained again to Oh. She again smiled and promised to follow up with building management. “I think they are maybe fixing, soon, Khun Harry!” But Harry suspected that for just a temporizing lie.

Finally, after tracking down the Full Moon Tower architect, he sussed out the problem. No temperature control capability had been built into the office tower’s HVAC system! The air conditioner had been designed to contend with the oppressive high temperatures of March, April and May . . . but with no offsetting ability to adjust for the slightly cooler months at the opposite end of the calendar.

After all, the swing in temperatures was a max of only about eight degrees, all in. But over time, after months of the oppressive office chill compounding by the day, that was enough to create a mini North Pole by December and January.

Once January dawned, sweaters were no longer enough. Staff began to turn up for work in outerwear purchased on vacation trips to Japan, Europe or North America. Even Harry had to bundle up, despite his temper blazing white hot at the needless inconvenience.

He couldn’t believe it: here he was, freezing in the heart of the Asian tropics. To calm his temper, he would remind himself this assignment was due to end in just another month or so. The MSI system installation was nearing completion. Soon he could go home.

One mid-January morning, the project bunker was packed for an important coordination meeting. The new, world-class control system, bringing Regal into the modern era, was due to “go live” in just weeks.

Harry scanned the full room of attendees, senior leaders from every division and department, packed shoulder to shoulder. Yet all that body heat still could not take the edge off the conference room chill.

Harry sighed, noting the IT group chief in a padded army surplus coat and thick red hunter’s cap, a la Holden Caulfield, pulled down over his ears. Like he was about to go duck hunting.

The Real Estate group’s general manager looked cozy in an expensive imported Canadian goose down coat and wooly cap. Other staff huddled together under thick blankets.

Harry scowled. At least we’re not seeing our breath yet . . . But he’d had just about enough of this nonsense.

“Damn it,” he spat out, starting in an impromptu speech in front of the room full of incongruously-dressed managers. “Just look at y’all! All of us! Damned ridiculous. We look like something right out of a comedy skit, like Monty Python Goes to Alaska.” The reference didn’t register — no response at all.

“I mean, here we are in the very heart of the tropics. Equatorial freakin’ Bangkok! One of the hottest places I’ve ever been in my life! Thermometer is almost always above 90. And even during the coolest months of the year, like now, the overnight lows are still in the 70s.” He shook his head. “So why are we freezing in here? It makes no sense. This building is our own personal ice box. Look how we’re dressed!”

He shook his head morosely. “I just wish somebody could explain it to me, why it’s always just so damned cold in this building! I simply can’t understand it.”

At that, a cheery young secretary raised her hand, suddenly excited for some reason, raring to say something. The usually timid but always helpful Khun Nit rose, fully decked out in a lovely hooded, fur-lined arctic white padded parka, and smiled beatifically at Harry, their foreign guest from Minnesota.

An odd look — of what, friendly condescension? — animated her sweet face. Harry realized she was going offer something to try and clear his confusion. Him, the poor, naive farang visitor.

“Chai, Khun Harry. Yes, is cold her. And why? Is easy.” Her eyes glowed and she spoke knowingly. “Because now is winter, Khun Harry.” She sat down with a look of achievement, having clarified everything.

Winter in Bangkok. Nodding wisely, all the other Thais in the room also smiled and looked expectantly over at their American visitor, waiting for his reaction.

His face sunk into his palms as he drew a deep breath, seeking to calm himself. He slowly shook his head and could still hear her high-pitched voice: It’s winter, Khun Harry!

Yes. Of course that explains it. It is Winter in Bangkok. “Just a couple more weeks, old boy,” he mumbled to himself, “just a couple more. You can do this.”

About Chet Nairene

Author of the delightful, exotic PACIFIC TRILOGY — three humorous novels of adventure, identity, and misadventure across Southeast Asia!

Read them all on Amazon →

PACIFIC DASH

Dash Bonaventure thinks his family’s move to Hong Kong is temporary — a quick detour before heading home. Instead, Asia grabs him and never lets go. One minute he’s a confused expat kid, the next he’s backpacking through Indonesia, working on an illegal casino boat, falling in love, dodging trouble, and somehow rising in Macau’s gambling underworld. A wild, funny, big‑hearted coming‑of‑age misadventure.

PACIFIC ODYSSEY

Lew Clarke blows up his New York tech career and grabs a sketchy lifeline in the obscure Asian backwater of Amazia. Forced to go there in person, he discovers his brilliance is useless, everyone smiles like they know something he doesn’t, and survival requires a whole new operating system. A sharp, funny, humbling misadventure of reinvention.

PACIFIC DREAM

After twin betrayals nuke her life, Marielle Margaux flees to Thailand and accidentally becomes caretaker to a battered woman… then several… then a baby… then an entire chaotic orphanage. Soon she’s juggling infants, hustling for money, dodging officials, and crossing lines she never imagined. A wild, heartfelt, darkly funny tale of reinvention gone sideways.

Harry the Hammer goes to Mangoland was originally published in Digital Global Traveler on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.