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Magical land of Hoi An. Old city of canary yellow buildings and hot pink bougainvillea. Refuge of the digital nomad. Postcard perfect picturesque Instagram hotspot. Southeast Asian trading port relic.
Having walked and toured ourselves to the point of sore calves and blisters, we decide its time for a rest day. Only after we pick up the washing from down the street – $3 for a kilo and a half of laundry, washed, dried, ironed and folded. Clean clothes acquired, we pick out sun loungers pool side and order Larue beers which seem to evaporate in the heat. Bake in the sun, swim, order new beer, repeat. The quiet whir of the ceiling fan in the poolside bar is only drowned out by the occasional splash of a fellow guest dropping themselves into the cool water. Hoi An is quiet. There’s no thunderous construction or buzzing of the constant traffic.
The desire to laze around only lasts until the afternoon, when curiosity gets the better of us and we shape up to venture out. The afternoon is still warm and sticky, as the sun begins to fall behind the squat old buildings of the town. Buses are returning from day trips, disgorging their passengers at the edge of the old town. Our path to the old town runs along the bank of the Thu Bon River, past Song Hoai Square where yet more Reunification Day decorations are hanging. Across the river, the neighbourhood of An Hoi. Music is already drifting across the smooth waters of the river, lanterns hanging from the covered verandas of bars and shophouses.
Husbando spies a sign for Pasteur Street Brewing protruding from the wall of a beer garden on our side of the river, and we stop for a beer. Hue was a bit of a no man’s land for my craft beer drinking husband, as the local brew – Huda – is brewed on the banks of the Perfume River and sold cheap. Here in Hoi An, the taste for craft beer has lead to the infiltration of smaller brewers. No complaints here. We pull up seats beneath the branches of a huge tree, looking out as we always do, to the street and across the river.
It’s a wonderous thing to watch a city shapeshift as the sun goes down. Across the river, more and more lanterns appear, and the crowds swell. On our side, tiny market stalls appear like mushrooms after rain on the thin footpath opposite the bar. They are wheeled in on small metal carts, selling all manner of touristy trinkets, from coconut bowls to lanterns to hair clips. A whole ass market pops up on the pavement. The scooter traffic stops, and eventually the street is overtaken by pedestrians strolling arm in arm, sipping coconuts or iced coffee.
Once the sky is dark the lazy Thu Bon River changes completely. A flotilla of small boats take to the waterway, lit by small coloured lanterns. They cruise up and down the river, the passengers setting floating lanterns free to wish for good luck, good fortunes and good health, before returning to the bank. They move silently, the only hint of movement the gentle ripples in the glassy surface. Passengers are silhouetted against the lights of the An Hoi neighbourhood behind, the unmistakable peak of Auntie’s nón lá at the front as she weaves a new floating lantern. The next group is waiting patiently for their turn. As we walk along the river, we are asked if we want a boat ride every few steps. It’s an incredible trade.
We venture across the river, and find a totally different scene to the serene lounge and dining scene on the old town side. In An Hoi, a bustling night market has appeared, more than double the size of the one across the river, and bars are competing for customers with drinks specials and live music. Shoppers bargain with seasoned fury for the Hoi An famous paper lanterns, beach towels, handbags and sunglasses. Families stroll along the riverbank, eating and laughing. Locate a banana roti cart, promptly purchase two. Inhale with lightning speed. Weave between happy shoppers, the occasional drunk tourist and Aunties hauling their wares up and down the street.
Take refuge on the veranda of a restaurant and order beers to survey the scene. It’s a blur of coloured lights, smiling faces and wafts of jasmine and grilled pork. The atmosphere itself is intoxicating, bustling and alive, yet somehow I feel entirely relaxed. How to explain that this feels like home – without any sense of it being home. This could be the beers talking, or maybe I’ve had too much sun today. Either way, I’ve already decided I love Hoi An and we should return as soon as possible.
Enjoying my Vietnam diaries? You can read the others here, or catch up on my Cambodian adventures!
