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Published: August 25th 2010
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Hoi An
Hoi An at dusk - our first impression! We liked Hoi An!
Despite the overwhelming number of tourists and the unusually persistent requests to "enter my shop" or "buy my bananas," despite the wall-to-wall tailors, despite the fact that it is scarcely a proper Vietnamese town any more, despite the fact it has a large illuminated plastic tiger floating in prime position on the river, Hoi An retains a charming old-world feel and remains a relaxing place to visit with plenty of variety to occupy a more extended stay: we went bicycling across the islands, spent days on the beach, went on a boat trip to Cham Island; we bought clothes, which entailed multiple fittings; we ate a great deal of very good food as well as sampling Bia Hoi or "fresh beer"; we also enjoyed strolling through the lively market and exploring the beautiful, dark-wood merchants' houses; disappointingly, we failed to take advantage of one of the various cooking schools that exist in and around the town - the one in the Morning Glory Restaurant looked especially good, but we only discovered it too late. Just as important, during our visit Hoi An was much less hot and humid than Hanoi and Hue, so this too was
The Market
Noodles for sale! a welcome change. The town remains small, with no high-rise or modern buildings at all (though they are spreading like a fungus along the coastline from Da Nang), and its focus is still on the river which remains its principle transport system, especially bringing in provisions and customers to the large all day market. Unusually, the town also has several two hour periods throughout the day when its streets are pedestrianised, though bikes are still allowed through to threaten the unwary, though these pleasant interludes make it seem even less Vietnamese.
Hoi An occupies two banks of one strand (the Thu Bon river) of an estuary; in fact one bank is on an island. The buildings are mainly constructed of massive pieces of timber, iron wood apparently which is dense enough to withstand the annual floods that turn Hoi An into Venice; the houses have flood levels from various record years marked on beams. When the waters come, everything just gets hoisted up to the first floor, while life goes on as normal by boat. The dominating colour of these houses is a rich dark brown. Because of the town's trading history, there are elements of architectural style from
Japan and China, as well as Vietnam; some claim Portuguese influences as well. This matches the rich cultural mix that has developed, notably its various Chinese communities (including one from Fujian province), mostly situated beyond the famed Japanese Bridge (rebuilt now, after the French levelled it to allow their cars to pass through the town unimpeded). As is common in Vietnam, it seems, all these houses stretch back a long way behind a "public" space at the front, usually passing through an open air section before reaching the cooking and sleeping areas at the back. Apparently, the front sections, used for business, are always higher, to encourage the money to run down hill into the house.
We also liked the Ancient House Hotel in Hoi An; in fact we extended our stay by three days because we liked it so much! Passing through the front of the building into the gardens where the rooms are set is to move into an area of tranquillity; neat, brick paths (always immaculately swept) thread their way through beautiful gardens and established trees; in the middle is the swimming pool. The rooms themselves are large, cool and airy with morning deliveries of fruit
Ferry cross the Thu Bon
These small ferry boats criss-cross the river at all times of day or night (often sweet little bananas) and gummy rice-flour sweets every evening.
However, the hotel contains a surprise: it isn't actually a hotel at all, but a substantial cottage industry, turning out vast quantities of rice noodles every day (between 200 and 250 kgs a day), enough to supply virtually the whole of Hoi An's demand. This has been going on for several generations now; the hotel is only a very recent development, albeit a very well designed one. Each morning as we stroll to breakfast, there are white discs drying in the sun, the product of hours of work already completed; every afternoon when we return for a cooling swim, more discs are on display, though they have turned 180 degrees to follow the sun like a field of colourless sunflowers; as we think about wandering out for a beer and a meal in the evening, the same discs are being run through the cutters, turning them into recognisable noodles which are then rinsed and refreshed, before disappearing around the town. Much of this work is undertaken in a hot steamy outhouse. Rice is soaked and then ground to form a kind of pancake-like batter, which is then ladled onto
Life is lived on a boat
breakfast on the way to work! hot steam plates powered by roaring wood fires. They are covered for a couple of minutes to allow the steam to do its work before being lifted off and put to dry in the sun. The process is well honed, repetitive and quick, but clearly tough on the four or five women who work in this hot, humid environment.
Unsurprisingly, therefore, the noodle dishes on the restaurant's menu are delicious. Our routine breakfast was a plate of fruit (usually, dragon fruit, watermelon, grapefruit segments) followed by freshly assembled pho. All this would be washed down with fruit juice and green tea.
Perhaps it was this early morning ritual that kept us in Hoi An for so long.
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jo
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looks amazing dad....bet you wish you were back there! x