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On Oct. 22, after seeing forecasts of heavy rains that could flood streets and cut off access to markets, the 35-year-old stocked her fridge with enough provisions for a week. But the rain never came.

As days passed she and her husband gradually cooked through their supplies, and she laughed at her over-cautiousness. Then, just as they relaxed, the skies opened, pelting the city with rain and the floodwaters began to rise along with their worries about running out of food.

By the afternoon of Oct. 28 water had poured down their alley and quickly flooded their home. They only had time to move electronic items to the attic and grab four sets of clothes. On the first three days the water stubbornly remained nearly two meters deep.

Her husband, Australian man Jonathan Poltak Samosir, tried wading out to look for food but had to give up because the water was too deep, and the waves too strong. “It felt like a survival game, except there was no pause button,” he says.

With just four packs of noodles, a dozen eggs and a few fruits left, Van was overjoyed when she discovered a forgotten bag of marinated meat in the freezer. “Like finding treasure,” she says.

After four days, when the water began to recede, relief teams reached their neighborhood with hot meals, clean water and essential supplies. The hardest part, Van says, was sanitation. “When the entire house was underwater, the toilet was flooded too.”

The couple resorted to using disposable containers lined with plastic bags, waiting until the water drained to discard them properly. They took turns washing and drying two sets of clothes using a fan. She says: “I thought it would only last two days. But it turned out to be two floods in one week.”

When the water finally receded in early November, Van and her neighbors waded through the muddy streets to check on each other.

Those with food shared instant noodles and eggs with those who had none. Having only lived in Duy Phuoc for three years, far from family and friends, she was touched when neighbors came to help her clean up. “Seeing people lend a hand amid the chaos brought tears to my eyes.”

But before she could fully savor the joy, the floods were back. On the morning of Nov. 3 the water had reached her knees. The couple rushed to buy groceries to refill the fridge. “By the time we got back, the water was up to our waists,” Van says.

Within an hour their home flooded again, erasing two days of hard work. With a typhoon forecast to make landfall soon, they decided to stop fighting it. “I’ll wait until ‘episode three’ ends and then clean once and for all,” Van jokes.

Ngoc Hung, 26, and his family in Phu Xuan Ward, Hue, were still camped in their attic on the morning of Nov. 4 after nearly 10 days of being surrounded by water.

Downstairs, the water had fallen to 60 centimeters from a peak of 1.6 meters, but no one dared celebrate. “Another storm is coming. If we move furniture down now, we’ll just have to carry it up again,” Hung says.

Their house is in one of Hue’s lowest-lying neighborhoods. Since Oct. 27 they had been racing against the rising floodwaters, moving their furniture to higher and higher ground. When there was no higher place to go, they moved into the attic.

“Never seen anything like this,” Hung says. “That morning I drove to work on dry roads. By noon it was pouring, and when I came back the road was already flooded a kilometer from home. I had to park the car and paddle a boat home. I’m used to floods, but this was new.”

Trapped upstairs, their food supply dwindling and without clean water, they collected rainwater and rationed food. When the food ran out, Hung climbed on the roof to ask neighbors for help or sent a rope across the street to exchange supplies.

Many households formed an impromptu “floating kitchen team,” taking turns cooking and sharing bowls of rice or noodles to save gas.

A few streets away, 33-year-old Dieu Xuan had also adapted to the rhythm of flood life.

The first floor of Dieu Xuan’s home in Hue was submerged in over a meter of water, Oct. 28, 2025. Photo courtesy of Xuan

Having endured six bouts of flooding in just over a year, she was well-prepared: life jackets, inflatable boats, waterproof backpacks, dry foods, 60-cm-high metal shelves, and 100 liters of clean water stored upstairs.

But even such careful planning was not enough. On Oct. 27, with the floodwaters 1.6 meters deep, she and her seven-year-old son stayed upstairs. Neighbors offered help and gave her their phone numbers, but with the front door jammed shut, they could only stay put and pray the water would not rise further.

She had a generator ready, but had not bought fuel. With power out for a week, they lit candles and used portable lamps. Her son’s school was closed for two weeks, and she had to stop going for work. Without electricity or the internet, the attic turned into a “home cooking school.”

Her son practiced storytelling; she practiced patience. What surprised her most was the optimism of local people. “Some people had lost everything but still called, cheerful as ever, to say ‘Hey, I’m still alive!’”

When the floodwaters finally receded on Oct. 31, neighbors gathered to help clean up, with some wading through mud and others using boats to reach affected areas.

“I learned from them how to face disaster: when the storm hits, pause; when things break, fix them; when you lose something, rebuild. As long as we stand together, we’ll make it through.”

Now, as they brace for the upcoming typhoon, both Hung’s and Xuan’s families again carry their belongings upstairs and stock up on instant noodles, water and gas.

“Floods are like old friends who visit too often,” Hung jokes. “All we can do is welcome them with tea and snacks.”