Hoi An

Judy. When looking at our options for cities to visit in Vietnam, Ted almost immediately settled on Hoi An. In the middle of the country, it’s now considered a suburb of Da Nang—and the two could not be any different. Da Nang is a big, modern city, sort of the Miami of Vietnam. Hoi An, just south, while a major tourist destination, is a bustling, crowded, older version, with little of the “modern” about it. 

City Market

Fruit vendor plies his wares

We’re just outside of the “Ancient City,” recognized as a UNESCO Heritage Site, in a quiet part of town. To the east is the South China Sea, or as it’s known here, the “Eastern Sea,” leaving China out of it. This is interesting, because China is a big part of its history. 

Hoi An was a trading port for centuries, until the river silted up and boats couldn’t get through. It’s still known, though, for textiles and ceramics, and the Ancient City is filled with shops ready to sell you any of these. The influence of neighboring cultures is everywhere. There are temples and Chinese assembly halls all over. In fact, an early name for the city was Faifo. One night we stumbled on an outdoor performance of opera that sounded and looked to me like Chinese opera. 

What a surprise to find this opera in an open courtyard!

One of many Chinese shrines

The symbol of the city is the Japanese Bridge, a beautiful covered bridge that, after several restorations, doesn’t have much of the Japanese about it. The influence of Hoi An’s early trade history is everywhere. 

Japanese covered bridge

The river plays an important role here, though, for fishing and for tourism. One of the big draws is a ride in a basket boat, a round, woven boat that’s somehow waterproof. I don’t know if they’re still used regularly, but several spots along the river or estuaries offer rides. We took one, and it was great fun. 

Basket boats waiting

Our crazy captain and two crazy Americans

On every full moon night, the town celebrates the Lunar Lantern Festival. Boats covered in lanterns carry tourists up and down the river, and the street lights are turned off for a warm glow from the lanterns. It’s truly lovely, and, if you wander a couple of streets away from the river, it’s quiet and charming. 

Lantern boats take tourists up and down the river

Lunar Lantern Festival

Young people in traditional dress for the Tet season

Right now, like most of Asia, Hoi An is preparing for Tet. While Buddhism is nominally important here (massive statues of Kwan Yin can be found in Da Nang and the mountains), ancestor worship is the norm. Tet (Lunar New Year) is a time to celebrate family members both living and dead. Every day we pass altars of food and gifts which are burned at night so they reach those who’ve died, usually for the dead who have no descendants. Family offerings of paper food, jewelery, money, clothes, etc. are made on the first day of Tet (this year, 17th of Feb.), and are burned to reach the ancestors on the fourth day. It’s somewhat reminiscent of Mexico’s Day of the Dead. Flowers and red banners and pompoms decorate houses and businesses. 

Burning the gifts so they reach the ancestors

Candy and rice left out for ancestors

Red ribbons for Tet. Red and yellow are lucky colors.

Maison Fleur dressed up for Tet

The other day we went to a restaurant we had eaten in before, Yen Pa Pa, only to be told by Tuey, the owner, that they were closed for the afternoon to have a family and friend celebration. As we thanked her and turned to leave, she ran after us, “You like curry? Come and join us!” She wouldn’t take no for an answer, and that’s how we wound up sitting with her, her husband, and her five brothers-in-law, drinking beer and eating whatever she put in our bowls. “It’s a time for family and friends,” she insisted, and we felt as though we’d been part of this family forever. Today we went back for lunch and took some special Tet candy as a thank you. Of course, we left with a bag of ginger candy she gave us in return.

Tuey (far right) and her family invited us for their family's celebration

We’ve quite fallen in love with this city. We don’t often go to the Ancient City, only to buy souvenir lanterns or to see the Lunar Festival, or, on our first day, to visit the sights Lonely Planet insisted we see. They were grand, and we got a kick out of buying souvenirs at the post office. We went to the most popular banh mi restaurant, and enjoyed it, but found the street seller’s sandwiches in our own neighborhood to be just as tasty. 

Madam Khanh's restaurant, supposedly Hoi An's most famous banh my

As we do in older European cities, we like wandering the alleys and back streets rather than the busy main roads, although we have to avoid bicycles and motor scooters anyway. We’ve figured out how to navigate the smaller streets to get to the convenience store and the ATM. Besides, walking along the dikes and alleys, we see all the flower farms, which gives Hoi An its nickname of “flower city.” And now we see bicycle and motor scooter trailers full of plants headed off to Da Nang and other cities. 

One of hundreds of flower farms

We once tried walking to the beach. The first half was beautiful, though rice paddies, but the second half, on a main road, was a bit dodgy. We prefer taking Grab. Our beach choice is Seascape, which has some sort of deal with our hotel. It’s got a great restaurant, with open covered seating, where Ted reads his book while I go to the beach and their sunbeds. We each enjoy the scenery and our beverage of choice, then I head up to sit with him and eat lunch. One day it was grilled scallops and calamari, another, spring rolls and fried shrimp. 

Cham Islands to the southeast

Da Nang to the north

And lunch in front of me!

There are so many flower and vegetable gardens around us that we almost skipped the Tra Que Vegetable Village, but, with an open day, decided to walk there, and are so glad we did! Acres and acres are filled with neat rows of veggies, herbs, and flowers, and there are numerous cafes and cooking schools. We met a couple while walking there, and the woman said, “I want to pick all of this up and put it in my yard!” There were even a couple of Chinese tombs in the fields, and a temple nearby, which added to the charm. 

Acres and acres of vegetable, herb, and flower gardens

We couldn’t help but notice all the Vietnamese flags and banners and signs with the image of Ho Chi Minh, and wondered if this was an everyday sight. We were told that shortly the country will celebrate the 16th anniversary of its first free election. Between Tet preparations and anniversary celebrations, the town is covered in decorations. 

Tet and election celebrations

It’s a city in transition. Beautiful new houses sit next to shacks. A fancy tourist restaurant sits next to a street food cart. It’s all a part of this city—maybe this country. Everyone smiles and responds to xin chau, or shows off their English by saying “hello” first. We feel welcome here. And I’m so glad we came.

My Son Sanctuary

Ted. As we travel, Judy and I are constantly reminded of our ignorance of world civilizations. In 2017, while in Cambodia, we visited the temple complex called Ankor Wat in the ancient Khmer city of Ankor. We were stunned that such a vast power could have ever been defeated in battle.

Living in Hoi An, Vietnam, we are now in an area that was once part the kingdom of Champa, the power that had crushed the Khmer in 1177 and sacked their capital. 

Beginning in the 4th century, in a valley just 20 miles from modern day Hoi An, the Champa people were growing in power and began to erect temples and shrines to their Hindu gods as well as tombs for their godlike kings. 

Like the Khmer, the Champa were great traders. In addition to goods, they also imported ideas, technologies and religions from their neighbors in present day China and India. 

Just like all other empires, in the 15th century, the Champa kingdom slowly collapsed after losing a war with the Viet kingdom to the north. Their buildings were ultimately abandoned and reclaimed by the forest only to be rediscovered by French archaeologists in the late 19th century.

Now called My Son Sanctuary, this collection of over 70 structures is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

We were saddened to learn that these ancient structures suffered a lot of damage from bombs dropped during the war but restoration is underway, funded by grants from Poland, Italy and other countries. Surprisingly, the restorers have been unable to figure out the composition of the bricks that were used a thousand years ago. The old bricks have retained their reddish hue over the centuries but the new bricks quickly get covered mold, turning them black. 

Here are a few snapshots of buildings and carvings we saw at the sanctuary.

As usual, I refer you to the internet for further study. I will also suggest streaming “Ankor: Hidden Jungle Empire,” an episode of the PBS series called Nova. 

So, whatever happened to the Champa people? They are still around. In the extreme southern part of Vietnam, Cambodia and Malaysia one can find a distinct ethnic minority now called the Chams. They have retained elements of the original culture and language but are now practicing Muslims.

Maison Fleur

Judy. When our friend Sonya recommended we stay at Maison Fleur, a boutique hotel in Hoi An, and make sure we had a third floor balcony room overlooking the rice paddy, we just said, “Sounds great!”and let it go at that. Boy, did she ever nail it! 

View across the rice paddy to Maison Fleur.

Located a 50-minute walk from Old Town, and a few

kilometers from the beach, Maison Fleur is a quiet, 15-room hotel with a staff that just might be more caring than that of iWaulai in Chiang Mai! There’s a tiny pool that we have yet to use, because the days have been so temperate. Our wake-up call comes from several roosters at the homes around us, so we sleep with earplugs, although with the exception of the periodical caterwauling from a karaoke bar down the street (that shuts down about 9:30), it is blessedly quiet. Believe me, as much as I enjoy going to Old Town, quiet is not a word I use to describe it! 

Flower gardens all around us!

If they're not growing flowers, our neighbors are hard at work growing organic vegetables

There are small houses around us, with tidy, neatly-organized gardens and dozens of pots of flowers in preparation for Tet, the New Year celebration and for sales to nearby towns. Hoi An is known as the "flower city."  White and brown egrets share the rice paddies with the occasional workers, and every now and again there are bird calls. In the evening, we hear a frog chorus. 

Worker taking a break outside our hotel patio

Our breakfast is served from 7:30 to 9:30, but if anyone has an early tour, Xi and Súóng will make sure there’s plenty of food out before 7. There’s always an array of tropical fruits, trays of pastries, bread for toast, and two pots of coffee, but you can also order just about any type of egg, yogurt and granola, avocado toast, and, of course, Vietnamese soups and steamed buns. Xi might just pop over to your table if you’re simply savoring your coffee and say, “You want Vietnamese breakfast? Vietnamese soup today?” Ted and I usually share a bowl filled with broth, vegetables, noodles, and meat. If you go away hungry, it’s your own fault! These two ladies seem to know everyone’s name, and remember what our preferences are. Xi encourages us to walk instead of taking Grab (the Asian version of Uber) --"You need exercise!"

Súóng taking a break from making more coffee. I love her gorgeous smile!

After breakfast Xi handles the front desk for the morning

For lunch we’re on our own, but it’s an easy walk to any of the cafes nearby. Some are perched so that you can sit and dangle your feet just above the growing rice, some are filled with flowers and sit back a couple of feet. Or you can always order food through Grab. 

There are free bikes to use, but Ted and I don’t trust the crazy motor scooters dashing everywhere, or the tourist tours with cyclists taking photos while they ride instead of watching where they’re going. That, I suspect, is the most dangerous part of being in Hoi An—bicycles, motor scooters, and, to a lesser extent, cars. We’ve mostly learned to deal with it. 

Túóng makes himself lunch--and handles bikes and luggage

Túóng is the handyman here. He carries luggage, pulls out and adjusts bikes for the guests, mops, dusts, and speaks the only English he knows, “bicycle,” and “hello!” His smile conveys the rest. 

Thu is small, but mighty, and makes a mean egg coffee!

Thu is the afternoon/evening manager. She’s 22, looks like a strong wind would knock her over, and can handle anything. Ask about the best place to buy a lantern, and she’ll use her spare minutes to research it and make a recommendation. Somehow, we’ve connected, and she calls me Grandma. Melts my heart every time we come back from a walk and she runs up to hug me. 

People come here from all over the world. For awhile there were lots of French, some Germans, Aussies and Kiwis, Brits, and and Irish couple. Lately there are more Americans.

Chef Patrick

Enjoying a French meal in the Vietnamese dining room

We’ve made friends with a Frenchman from Toulouse, Patrick. Since we speak a little French, he often joins us for breakfast. Three times he’s gotten permission to use the kitchen and dining room to cook us a very French lunch—sautéed shrimp, baby squid, frog legs. Sou, Xi, or Thu act as sous chefs, making rice and even peeling shrimp, then cleaning up afterwards. We provide the wine, and help with the cost of the food. 

A few days after we arrived, we met Erik and Christopher, a couple who travel much like we do. We’ve shared travel suggestions and sat by the rice paddy till late in the evening, drinking wine and laughing our heads off! Since I'm an actor, Christopher has decided my stage name should be "Hoi An Jade."

Hard to keep a straight face with these guys around

We’d heard of residence hotels where people get to know each other and the staff and truly feel at home, and that’s what we experience here. Of course, being here for three weeks helps. We never thought about the fact that having an Airbnb isolates us, and we truly do enjoy having our own place, but this being part of Maison Fleur for a few weeks has taught us the value of being with others. Always learning new lessons.

Hue

Ted. When Judy and I decided to visit Vietnam,  the city of Hue was on my wish list list of destinations. Our travel buddy, Sonya, had suggested we spend some time in nearby Hoi An, so a day trip to Hue became feasible. 

I must say that all I knew about the city was from the Vietnam War (known here as the American War). A fierce battle took place in this city during the “Tet Offensive,” launched during the Tet (Lunar New Year) celebrations in January of 1968. A visit to Hue by Walter Cronkite in the aftermath of the fighting marked a turning point in American public opinion which led, after thousands of more deaths, to the eventual end of US involvement. So this city had stories to tell. 

The history of Vietnam is fascinating and extremely complicated. I’ll refer you to the internet if you’re curious about the comings and goings of various empires. As you surely know, by the middle of the 19th century the French were firmly entrenched here. The small group tour we joined focused on this period and the Nguyen dynasty that was “in charge” then. 

Our drive from Hoi An took us through Da Nang (sort of the Miami of Vietnam), and over Hai Van Pass to the city of Hue.

At the pass with Hue in the distance

Lap On Lagoon (the mountains are in nearby Laos)

Our next stop was at the early 20th century tomb of Emperor Khai Dinh.

The emperor is buried 50 feet below his statue

The dragon's teeth are filed down since the emperor is just a puppet of the French

We then visited the 17th century Thien Mu Pagoda.

In 1963, there was growing sentiment that the policies of the President of South Vietnam, Ngo Dinh Diem, were unfair to practicing Buddhists. A monk named Thich Quang Duc was living at this pagoda at the time and decided he would make a personal protest against these policies. He was driven from Hue to Saigon in a blue Austin car. Upon arriving at a major intersection near the presidential palace he sat down in the road, poured gasoline on himself and set himself on fire. Photographers captured the scene and this became the first of many self-immolations by Vietnamese monks. As a memorial, the car is still kept in a place of honor at the pagoda. 

The blue Austin with a photo of the scene on the back wall

From there, we crossed the Perfume River, and entered Hue's Imperial City.

Perfume River

Imperial Palace

These musicians play for the visitors

Our brief visit to Hue was interesting but there was almost no mention of the late 20th century and the fact that 80% of the city was destroyed and thousands of soldiers and civilians died during the Battle of Hue. It seems there is history here that no one is willing to talk about. Our young guide probably knows very little about events that took place almost 60 years ago but she did say that “War is terrible.” Amen to that!

Our guide, Van