Landing In Hội An
This is something of a new cadence for us. When we set out we’d settled on about three months at each location, enough time to marinate in terroir. Then we noticed that the last few weeks at each spot felt a little played out, so we tightened that up to ten weeks.
We’re being more flexible now, acknowledging that some locations don’t warrant a full ten weeks. We spent four weeks in Siem Reap in Cambodia, soaking up the Angkor-era ruins, and that was just right. We were afraid four weeks would feel like a rushed tourist cadence, but Siem Reap was fine.
We’re also now splitting time between locations, rather than having a home base for the full ten weeks. We’re ten weeks in Vietnam, but six of those were in Hà Nội before hitting Hội An for the final four weeks. Again, that’s felt pretty good. Enough time to sink into both locations without feeling rushed, and a broader view of Vietnam than we’d get if we were ten weeks in Hà Nội with the occasional junket.
In fact, we’re cutting our Hội An trip short to add three full days in Ho Chi Minh City/Sài Gòn before we leave for Indonesia. Even three days in HCMC will be more entertaining than missing it entirely. Then we’re pulling the same stunt in Indonesia, starting with four weeks in Amed, a quiet Bali beach town (of which there are few), followed by six weeks in Yogyakarta on Java before heading back to the US.
Hội An has been a lovely antidote to Hà Nội’s Sturm und Drang. Six weeks in the Old Quarter was much like being a BB in a can, and Hội An’s more relaxed vibe is welcome. Even the “crowds” in Hội An’s Old Town are a joke, after Hà Nội.
For a change, we’re not staying in the Old Town. We’re about a fifteen minute walk away, but that’s enough distance to put us in a more quiet, residential neighborhood. There are still plenty of goods and services, without the jangle of Old Town and its proliferation of souvenir shops. We’re out where people live.
Our Airbnb is a little four story, eight room hotel-style accommodation, but each one bedroom unit has a workable kitchen and a washer/dryer, which is always an appreciated amenity. More importantly, it has an elevator you can take to the fourth floor for a short flight of stairs to the rooftop pool. It is hot here, high 80s – low 90s, and I’ll confess that there are days when we visit the pool more than once. We have even gone to the beach and then returned to go to the pool. I’m not proud, but neither will I apologize. It’s easy to lean into your weakness when it involves a pool.
It is also tropically humid here. We couldn’t figure out why the weather report kept saying it was raining when it wasn’t. Then we checked the humidity. 84% humidity is rain.
No dining table, which isn’t our favorite thing. 
Our first floor apartment has a nicely planted little deck in front, with breakfast seating. 
The money shot. 
The unit came furnished with geckos, which was adorable until we figured out they bark. Also, one climbed into the tea kettle one night, which Dorothy didn’t notice until after she’d boiled the water the next morning. We now have gecko murder on our hands.
The beach is a little far to walk, but it’s a fast, cheap taxi (10 minutes, about $3.50 with a generous tip), and the beach clubs are practically free. We can sit under a palapa all day, swim as much as we like in the deliciously warm water, and use their showers and changing rooms for the cost of renting a towel. They’re 20,000 VND each, or about $1.50 for the two of us. It’s good to be king.
The walkable part of the neighborhood offers plenty. We have our very own lotus pond right around the corner, plenty of restaurant options, and a choice of mercados.
There’s a mercado about ten minutes from us, and the big central mercado on the edge of Old Town is about a fifteen minute walk. There’s a variety of mini marts of various sizes and distinctions, but no real supermercado or hypermarché. We’re about forty minutes from Đà Nẵng, a much bigger city, and all the big supermarkets are there.
Our local mercado. 
We make a habit of picking one produce vendor and using them repeatedly. It builds a relationship, and they always toss a few things in our bag for free. 
The cuisine here is super greens-based. 
The produce market at the main market, Chợ Hội An. 
The interior of the Chợ is a massive food court.
Less than a block from our apartment is our own personal sweets shop, Trà Sữa Nọng. Trà Sữa is milk tea, and we’re pretty sure Nọng means wattles, which makes sense based on the branding.
What we are certain of is that milk tea is a delicious treat.
Old Town
Hội An’s Old Town is like most of the old quarters or Medinas we’ve visited: a thick crust of turista atop a foundation of very old buildings, old being a relative term based on location. Here, old goes back as far as the 1600s.
The Old Town itself, strung with traditional Vietnamese silk lanterns, is intentionally charming.
Gaudily lit boats ply the Thu Bồn River, while riverside vendors offer tourists floating candles that, released into the river, grant wishes. Here are the boats at dock.
The boats were lit up like pinball machines, so a lantern boat ride seemed compulsory.
The combination of low light and a fast moving boat led to some great effects.
Shops all over the district offer the silk lanterns, adding to the storybook nighttime ambiance. It all adds up to a UNESCO World Heritage Cute designation, richly deserved.
My favorite feature of Old Town, though, is the pedicabs. For some reason they have neither horns nor bells, so the drivers holler “Beep, Beep” as they make their way through the pedestrian scrum. Charming.
Old Town is also home to some very old and completely ridiculous structures. Here’s the Quan Công Temple, dating from 1653. Obviously its contents aren’t that old, but the building itself is graceful and beautiful.
Quan Công also hosted a gallery featuring the beautiful watercolor and ink work of local artist Ngo Duc Chi. We were beguiled, despite officially owning enough things.
Hội Quán Quảng Triệu, the Cantonese Assembly Hall, fell on the ridiculous side of the ledger. It featured a massive outdoor fountain of entwined dragons and wiggy 3D reliefs all over the interior.
I am providing no commentary on the reliefs because commentary is neither necessary nor possible. There’s nothing to say. They speak, eloquently, for themselves.
And no Assembly Hall would be complete without horses and dragons.
While those two spots were major, there were plenty of old buildings and houses dotted about Old Town, offering up beauty, mystery, and entertainment, if you just kept your eyes open.
An ancient gate, from the 1600s. 
Someone’s front door. 
More dragons. 
A shaft of light illuminating an incense offering. Or the fulfillment of the ancient prophecy. Hard to be sure. 
The Japanese Bridge. 
Monkey! 
We saw these in a pottery workshop. They’re actually thin, individual disks stacked into a brick structure, to radiate heat. Like ceramic bunny ears.
Of course, Old Town is more than just silk lanterns and old buildings. It’s also…
I leave you with this last, indelible image of Hội An’s Old Town. Just across the Thu Bồn River, via a short pedestrian bridge, Hội An’s Night Market offers up a welter of restaurants, bars, shops, street vendors, and Hội An’s most iconic structure: The Mr. Bean Bar.
You’re welcome.