A little Vietnam in Berlin - Dong Xuan Center

I’ve lived in four different European countries besides Germany. Each had its charm, its quirks, its version of what life abroad in Europe feels like. But none of them ever gave me the feeling of truly being at home the way Berlin does, and more specifically, the Lichtenberg district in Berlin.

It might sound odd to some people. Lichtenberg isn't the most beautiful part of the city. It doesn't have the aesthetics of Charlottenburg or the hips of Kreuzberg. But what it does have is Dong Xuan Center - a chaotic, vibrant, unapologetically real place that feels like a little pocket of home for many immigrants like myself.

The Vietnamese presence in Berlin runs deep. Much of it dates back to the era when Vietnamese workers were brought to East Germany by the GDR in the '70s and '80s. After the fall of the Berlin Wall, many chose to stay. They planted roots, raised families, and built businesses. Over time, a strong and visible Vietnamese community emerged, featuring countless restaurants, flower shops, and nail salons that have become part of Berlin’s everyday landscape.

Vietnamese guest workers arrived in East Berlin in 1973 (photo source: spiegel.de)

But as much as they serve the people of Berlin, the Vietnamese community also needed a place that serves them. Enter Dong Xuan Center.

Entrance to Dong Xuan Center

It’s probably the biggest “everything-in-one-place” asian market in Europe. And I mean everything. You walk in and you’re instantly hit by the smell of phở simmering in one stall, durian quietly ripening in another. There are aisles of spices and sauces, racks of clothes, plastic deco, electronics repair shops, hair salons, visa services, and people speaking Vietnamese, Arabic, Hindi, and sometimes a mix of all three. It’s loud. It’s a little messy. It’s very much alive.

Dong Xuan Center as seen from above (photo source: dong-xuan-berlin.de)

No, it’s not beautiful. No one’s going to Dong Xuan Center for architecture or tranquility. It’s not curated for Instagram. But that’s kind of the point. It’s one of those places that exists entirely for the people who need it. The immigrants. The newcomers. The ones who just want to find the fish sauce that tastes like home, or an affordable haircut that doesn't need explaining, or someone who understands what it feels like to live between cultures.

In recent years, Dong Xuan has become more than just a Vietnamese hub. It’s expanded to serve other communities, most notably Arabic and Indian, who’ve found in it the same thing the Vietnamese found: a place that feels familiar. A place that doesn’t ask you to perform or assimilate, but just shows up for you as you are.

Yes, it’s a little chaotic. Yes, you might get lost between the similar-looking halls. You might find yourself stuck in a crowd of tired immigrant mothers, doing their best to keep their restless kids in check while thinking about what to cook for the family next week. You might get annoyed by some dodgy guy approaching you, trying to sell even dodgier AirPods. You might get irritated by people shouting across the aisles to one another. But there’s something deeply comforting about it. Maybe it’s the language, or the food, or simply the sense that in this messy little corner of Berlin, you don’t have to explain yourself.

Dong Xuan Center is a reminder that belonging doesn’t always come wrapped in pretty packaging. Sometimes, it looks like a chain of warehouses full of incense, noodles, and cell phone cases. And sometimes, that’s all you need to feel a little at home, away from home.

Cơm tấm canh chua

Not all visitors to Dong Xuan center are poor immigrants