Can Tho

The land that became Cần Thơ was marsh and forest on the edge of the Khmer world, thinly settled until Vietnamese migrants pushed south in the 18th century and the Nguyễn administration organised the district at the end of it. The name, by local tradition, comes from a phrase for the sound of poetry carried over the water, and the settlement grew at the junction of the Cần Thơ and Hậu rivers because that junction was where boats naturally stopped.

France took the delta in the 1860s and made Cần Thơ a provincial seat. Colonial engineers dug the canal network that drained the marshes and turned the region into one of the world's great rice exporters, and the town acquired a quay, a market hall, rice mills and the wide avenues still visible behind the waterfront. Traders called it Tây Đô, the "western capital", and it became the administrative and commercial centre of the whole delta.

In the war years the city held a large South Vietnamese and American base, and it was among the last places to change hands at the end of April 1975. Afterwards came collectivisation, poor harvests and, from the mid-1980s, the Đổi Mới reforms that returned land to farming families and set the delta's rice exports climbing again. In late 2004 Cần Thơ province was divided, the city and some surrounding towns becoming a centrally governed municipality and the remainder becoming Hậu Giang province; the city gained a university, an airport and, in April 2010, the great bridge over the Hậu River that ended the queues for the ferry. In the national reform of June 2025 the provinces of Hậu Giang and Sóc Trăng were merged back into Cần Thơ.

Cần Thơ thinks of itself as the capital of the miền Tây, the delta west, and carries the reputation that goes with it: open, talkative, quick to invite a stranger to the table and fond of long meals with beer and singing. The city is proud of đờn ca tài tử, the southern amateur chamber music recognised by UNESCO, which is played at family gatherings and on tourist boats alike, and of cải lương, the reformed opera that grew up in delta towns.

Three communities shaped the place. Vietnamese settlers came from the centre and north, Chinese merchants — largely Teochew and Cantonese — built the assembly halls and ran the rice trade, and the Khmer Krom, the delta's indigenous Khmer population, kept their Theravada pagodas and their calendar of festivals. Their holidays are still marked here: Ok Om Bok in the autumn, the Khmer new year in April, and the Chinese temple festivals on the waterfront.

Religion in the city is correspondingly mixed, with Mahayana pagodas, Khmer temples, Chinese halls, Catholic churches and the Cao Đài and Hòa Hảo faiths of the southern delta all present. Everyday manners are those of Vietnam generally — respect for age, two hands when passing something, modest dress in temples — but delivered with a delta lightness. Students from the university give the centre a young, informal atmosphere in term time.

Since the 2025 merger the municipality has about 4.2 million residents, spread from the dense riverside streets of Ninh Kiều to villages among orchards and rice and out to the coast at Sóc Trăng. The centre is a working Vietnamese city of shophouses, markets and new apartment blocks rather than a resort, and the visitor economy is only a part of what it does.

Its business is the delta's business. Rice is milled and traded here, catfish and shrimp from the surrounding provinces are processed for export, fruit comes in from the orchards, and the port handles a share of it by river and sea. Cần Thơ University, teaching hospitals, banks and government offices make it the region's service centre, and thousands of students arrive each year from the smaller towns.

The day begins very early — markets and boats work before dawn — slows in the fierce middle hours, and revives in the late afternoon when the riverfront fills with families, exercise groups and food stalls. The city's persistent problems are the ones the delta shares: flooding at high tides that is getting worse as the land subsides, saltwater pushing up the rivers in the dry season, erosion of the riverbanks, and the steady departure of young people to work in the factories around Ho Chi Minh City.

Cần Thơ eats from the river. Freshwater fish are the foundation: cá lóc, the snakehead, grilled whole over straw or caramelised in a clay pot as cá kho tộ; cá tai tượng, the giant gourami, fried upright and picked into rice-paper rolls at the table; and lẩu mắm, a hotpot built on fermented fish and served with a heaped tray of river greens, banana flower and water lily stems.

The city's own snack is bánh cống, a small deep-fried cake of rice batter and mung bean with a prawn on top, wrapped in lettuce with herbs and dipped in sweet fish sauce. Bánh xèo here is large, crisp and made with coconut milk; bánh tằm bì, thick rice noodles with shredded pork skin and coconut cream, is a common breakfast; and hủ tiếu, the clear pork noodle soup of Chinese origin, is sold everywhere, including from boats at the floating market, where a bowl is passed from hull to hull.

Fruit is the other pleasure, brought in from the orchards of Phong Điền and the islands: durian, rambutan, mangosteen, longan, milk fruit and pomelo, sold by the basket at the markets and eaten at orchard homestays. Coffee is taken strong and iced with condensed milk at pavement cafés, and meals end with rice spirit or cold beer poured over ice.