Preamble
Oops, I did it again — I got another tattoo. The last time was in June last year, when Robin from Borneo Headhunters worked on me. As always, I started thinking about new ink around my birthday and whenever we visited a new country. This time, I wanted something that felt deeply connected to Vietnam — a piece of art that would remind us of this trip every time I looked at it.
Ink Day Begins
After a quiet, grounding morning at the Temple of Literature, we headed back to the homestay. I hugged Cat goodbye, stepped back onto the street, and hailed a Grab. Hanoi surged around me as we drove toward The Hangout Tattoo—the calm giving way to focus. The studio came into view. Time to meet Hung Bun. Time to make it permanent.
From Idea to Skin
As I walked inside, I remembered how this all started. Our friend Darren from Guntur Tattoo in Kota Kinabalu had suggested we check out The Hangout Tattoo while we were in Hanoi. Not long after, while filming a video for my guitar channel, I noticed a bare spot on my right elbow. It felt like an invitation.
On a previous visit, senior artist Luan had sketched a freehand lotus—simple, balanced, and right. Today, that idea was ready to leave paper behind. After a few stencil variations, Hung Bun stepped back, nodded, and we began precisely at 11:30 a.m.
Why a Lotus
The lotus (hoa sen) is one of Vietnam’s most meaningful symbols. Growing clean and pure from muddy water, it represents resilience, moral clarity, and spiritual growth. In Buddhism, it symbolizes enlightenment, often shown as the seat of the Buddha. As Vietnam’s national flower, it reflects ideals of humility, perseverance, and inner strength—rising above hardship without being stained by it. That meaning mattered. The placement mattered. Everything lined up.
The First Hour
The first lines bit sharp and hot, tiny electric snaps against the skin. I slowed my breathing, tried to stay loose—but the elbow doesn’t negotiate. Every needle strike felt like it went straight to the bone. Time dragged. I talked for a while, then stopped. Instead, I watched the lotus petals emerge, one line at a time, and made a deliberate effort not to look at the clock.
The Second Hour
By the second hour, the pain shifted. It wasn’t sharp anymore—it was heavy and constant. The shading burned, a deep, spreading heat. I clenched my teeth, stretched my fingers, shook out my legs to release the tension. Over and over, I told myself the same thing: just a little more.
Trusting the Process
We took a short break, then went back in. I was sweating, my arm stiff and swollen. The needle kept returning to the same spots, over and over, smoothing the colour, evening the shading. I wanted to stop—but I also wanted the lotus to be right. So I stayed still, locked my shoulder, and trusted the process.
The Fourth Hour
By the fourth hour, the work had followed its full arc—linework complete, shading refined, colour settled through repetition. That repetition hurts most, but it’s what gives a tattoo its depth.
By then, I was almost numb. Hung Bun cleaned the tattoo one last time and suddenly the pain didn’t matter.
The lotus looked perfect—clean lines, soft shading, strong and calm all at once. Sitting right on the elbow, it was bold, bright, and exactly where it belonged. Every sharp pass made sense.
The Ride Home
Wiped out and a little dazed, I stepped outside and flagged down another Grab—VND 33,280. I slumped into the seat as Hanoi blurred past, my elbow throbbing softly. By the time we reached the homestay, exhaustion had fully set in—and with it, the quiet satisfaction of knowing something permanent had been earned.
Stay tuned for the next video as we make the most of our penultimate day in Hanoi.
Do visit our YouTube Channel Have Perut Will Travel)
📍 Location:
23B P. Hàng Tre - https://maps.app.goo.gl/LrtA6xLFHWhzzzA29
The Hangout Tattoo Studio - https://maps.app.goo.gl/F2MtX5Zt6FmZgf417
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