Alone in a crowded city

Every evening after her shift at a garment factory in Binh Tan, Trang, 23, eats instant noodles on her bed. Then she calls her mother in Thanh Hoa. She shares a small rented room with two other workers, but they work different shifts and rarely talk. 'There are millions of people in this city,' she says. 'Some days I don't have a real conversation with any of them.'

Trang is far from unusual. Surveys from around the world suggest that loneliness is becoming more common, especially in big cities. Doctors now see it as a health problem rather than a private sadness. Every year, large numbers of young people leave the provinces to study or work in Ho Chi Minh City. They leave behind family and childhood friends, and long working hours make it hard to build new friendships. A video call helps, but it doesn't replace a meal together.

Older people face a different version of the same problem. Mrs Hoa, 71, lives alone in an alley in District 3. Her husband died four years ago and her son works in Singapore. 'In my mother's time, three generations lived under one roof,' she says. 'Now I can go a whole day without speaking to anyone except the woman who sells me bread.' Even in a busy alley, it's surprisingly easy to be overlooked.

This matters for health, not just happiness. Long-term loneliness has been linked to poor sleep, heart disease and depression. One well-known researcher compared the risk of weak social ties to smoking up to fifteen cigarettes a day. Not everyone accepts that comparison, but the message is clear: when people go too long without real contact, their bodies suffer as well as their minds.

Some places have started to act. In 2018 the British government appointed a minister for loneliness, and doctors there can now refer patients to art classes, walking groups or volunteering. Closer to home, neighbourhood clubs and shared gardens offer simpler versions of the same idea. Mrs Hoa now goes to a morning exercise group in the park. Trang has joined a badminton club for factory workers on Sundays. 'I'm terrible at it,' she says, 'but at least now people know my name.'