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The 27-year-old in the Dutch capital Amsterdam then parks the vehicle in Oosterpark, sets up a sign reading “Viet Drip Cafe” and displays a list of Vietnamese drinks like iced milk coffee, bac xiu (southern style white coffee), salted coffee, and egg coffee.

As customers gather, Kmezic drips drops of robusta coffee into cups, adds milk, and serves. Visitors sit on low plastic chairs around the cart, chatting and enjoying their coffee in the park’s relaxed atmosphere.

Passersby sometimes ask out of curiosity, “Why are you selling Vietnamese coffee when you’re not Vietnamese?” Kmezic laughs and replies, “Do you have to be Italian to make an espresso or cappuccino?”

Kmezic was born and raised in Zagreb, Croatia. He met his fiancée, a woman of Vietnamese descent, when they were both 15. The couple now lives in Amsterdam, where he has worked as a physiotherapist for the past five years.

In 2018, at the age of 20, the couple took a gap year from work to spend time in Vietnam. Kmezic lived for three months in Ho Chi Minh City and seven months in Hanoi to experience local life and improve his Vietnamese language skills. He wanted to immerse himself fully in the culture and not live like a tourist.

“That trip completely changed my life,” he says.

Three days after arriving in Ho Chi Minh City, he tried iced milk coffee for the first time. He described it as a “flavor explosion,” with bold robusta coffee mixed with sweet condensed milk. More than the taste, however, he was struck by the sidewalk scene, with people sitting on tiny chairs, chatting and laughing as traffic passed by.

“The sidewalk is where time slows down.”

He noticed how Vietnamese people often sit outdoors to relax, talk and watch life go by. Despite the noise and bustle, there was a sense of calm that he found very different from Europe, where people rush to buy takeaway coffee.

“This philosophy changed the way I view coffee and life.”

Back in Europe, Kmezic, having tasted Vietnamese coffee, found espresso and cappuccino “extremely bland.” He decided to brew coffee with a phin (Vietnamese filter) he had brought from Vietnam.

“Mornings in Amsterdam were too quiet and dull,” he says. “I felt the warmth and energy that a Vietnamese coffee gives missing.”

In summer 2024 coffee drew him back to Vietnam, where he was introduced to Ysim, a coffee roaster in Buon Ma Thuot in the Central Highlands. With their shared passion for coffee, Ysim taught him the secrets of roasting robusta beans.

A few days later, while in Da Nang, Kmezic conceived a business plan: export the Vietnamese sidewalk coffee culture to the Netherlands.

Matko Kmezic’s customers enjoying coffee at Oosterpark in the Dutch capital Amsterdam, Nov. 2025. Photo courtesy of Kmezic

After returning to Amsterdam, Kmezic designed a logo, bought a tricycle, registered his business, and applied for a license. Three days after he completed the paperwork, Viet Drip Cafe opened at Oosterpark.

At Viet Drip, Kmezic keeps the brewing method exactly as in Vietnam, using 100% robusta beans he roasts himself to preserve the original flavor. He sometimes adjusts the sweetness level if a customer asks but always prioritizes authenticity.

“I always want to connect with Vietnam because I miss the country like crazy,” he says. “The coffee stall is my way of bringing a piece of Vietnam to me every day.”

The early days were not easy for the business. Amsterdam’s unpredictable weather and an outdoor cart with no electricity or shelter meant customers complained. Besides, since he did not serve hot drinks, the cold climate meant he could sell iced coffee only in August and September.

But his fears of being forgotten after winter 2024 were dispelled in spring: When Viet Drip reopened, customers lined up.

The crowds created a new challenge for Kmezic, who also works as a physiotherapist. Eventually he decided to sell coffee only on weekends.

Another hurdle was customer perception. Many expected an espresso and were surprised when he explained he did not serve one. He has had to teach customers about the phin brewing method. His favorite phrase is: “Vietnamese coffee should be sipped slowly to enjoy both the flavor and the moment.”

Gradually, Amsterdamers have adapted to the Vietnamese coffee style: sitting on low chairs, chatting, connecting, and sometimes even learning a few Vietnamese words from Kmezic, who wants them to be able to experience what he had in Ho Chi Minh City. Vietnamese students studying in the Netherlands often stop by too, praising the coffee as tasting “like home,” which delights Kmezic.

Coen Van der Meijs, 25, a Dutch customer, says he is amazed by the strong flavor and boldness of Vietnamese coffee. He has tried Vietnamese coffee several times, and prefers the salted variety for its unusual and unique taste.

“What I love most is sitting on the plastic chair in the park, feeling the Vietnamese culture as I did when I visited six years ago,” he says.