Hoi An

 

This was the start of our transit from Hanoi to Hoi An. Across many travels in many countries, this fog thing is not something I've encountered before, and I found it disconcerting. Extra so as the plane felt like it was 30+ years old. On one of our most recent flights, streams of water came down from the overhead bins during take off and landing. These things may or may not be related to the pandemic, but air travel is feeling a lot weirder as we emerge from the last few isolated, non-traveling years. 

To complete the scene, picture a thunderstorm overhead and rain pouring down outside. Imagine sitting in outdated plane seats with the row in front of you uncomfortably close, so close you have to either choose to point your knees in one direction or splay your legs out. Then imagine the worst waiting music you've ever heard which consists of only two songs, playing over and over again, the worst kind of earworm that gets stuck in your head for days. Then picture being stuck in this position while your flight is delayed by two and a half hours. 

It's a unique form of hell.

We arrived in Hoi An late, got accosted by a lady who tried to tell us we needed to show her our passports just before the exit doors (nope), and escaped into a cab. After driving to An Bang beach, about 30 minutes from the airport, we got dropped off at the top of a laneway. Wandered down the dirt alleyway trying to avoid contact with rats scampering across the way, and finally found our AirBnB. 

After successfully unlocking the gate but not being able to figure out how to open it, Marcus climbed through the space at the bottom while I used my phone flashlight to help him figure out the various levers to pull to let ourselves in. Up the stairs. Encounter an ant infestation in the bathroom. 

Arriving at unfamiliar places at night always has an extra sheen of disorientation. Things tend to look better in the morning.

And the next morning was my birthday. Hello, last year of my 30's. True to form, An Bang was much nicer during the day, the laneways less formidable. They didn't feel dangerous at night, but wandering down unfamiliar alleyways at night doesn't usually seem like the smart thing to do. During the day, we found the alleyways to be quite lovely, with homes, villas, gardens, and hotels throughout. Cars are too big to come down the alleyways, so it's mostly pedestrians, a few bicycles, and of course motorbikes. 

We walked down to the beach which was already sweltering at 8:30 in the morning. 

Got breakfast. Then worked!! I used to take my birthday off from work, but now I'm rigorously rationing my days off for friend visits and a trip back home later this year. US (and even Singapore) annual leave needs to be expanded. Big time. I did appreciate having a different work view for a few days, though. 

We escaped the office mid-day and found a beautiful pomelo chicken salad for lunch.

Then more work and an afternoon nap. For dinner, Marcus booked in another street food tour so we set off for a tour with five or six stops and around three kilometers of walking. Which was needed because we ate a lot. By the second stop we were already asking him to give us smaller portions and by the last stop, we were stuffed! 

At our first stop we ate (and made!) a local specialty called white rose dumplings, made of shrimp and pork, with wrappers formed into a dumpling shape that looks kind of like a flower. Then we split a banh mi from the Banh Mi Queen. Made another banh xeo stop. Then a chicken rice (I prefer Singapore's). 

Our last stop was my favorite, where we tried a noodle dish you can only get here in Hoi An--Cao Lau. Cao Lau is made of thick, chewy noodles with pork, fresh herbs and bean sprouts, a bit of brown broth at the bottom, and thick, squares fried noodle croutons on top. The whole dish is delicious but the noodles are what make the dish special. They're made with well water from a centuries-old spring that is still in use. The water is mixed with ash from trees from the Cham islands to make a lye solution, which the noodles are boiled in, and which gives them their tan color. The ingredients, the process, and the story imbue the dish with...depth, meaning. And maybe a touch of mysticism.

We finished our night with a wander through the old town and, because it was my birthday, finished the night with ice cream--a scoop of coconut and a scoop of lemongrass + basil. And I bought myself a $4 sundress covered with pineapples and palm leaves. Lots of wins here.

The next day was work, coffee breaks, and a swim in the ocean, which was that perfect temperature that's cooling but warm enough to where you can walk right in. And the waves were just like those in a wave pool, rolling, gentle, but you still have to jump over some. I was surprised at how nice the beach was, and not crowded. It was also a really nice mix of locals and tourists, something you don't always find in areas with lots of tourism. 

That night, Marcus took me to a fine dining restaurant called Mua, that's only open on certain nights as they ramp back up post-pandemic, and by reservation only. They do "eco-centric modern dining" which translates to local, seasonal ingredients. It's a blend of Vietnamese cuisine and western fine dining that manifests in a menu of seven tasting dishes. 

The next night we headed back into the old town to wander through the streets. It's a lovely city, full of restored colonial buildings, shops, restaurants. It reminded me of similar places we've wandered in Brazil, in Peru, in Italy. That architecture as a common thread.

Hoi An's buildings are decked out in lanterns, and at night it's quite a treat to see them lit up along the streets and out in the river, which is crowded with boats ferrying tourists around.

For our last full day in Hoi An, I booked us in for a cooking class. And what I noticed on this trip was that tours were made of a few building blocks. Where cooking classes are usually just cooking classes, with maybe a market visit, the tours this time always involved eating and drinking (try the best egg coffee in Vietnam, we'll stop at the best pho in the city, have the locals' favorite banh mi!). Which naturally, I was into. This particular cooking class started with a market visit, followed by an excursion in a basket boat, and finally the actual cooking class. 

The market visit was fun, though I've realized that given the amount of time I spend in markets, these kinds of market tours aren't really for me anymore. I wanted to ask lots of questions about different herbs and fruits I wasn't familiar with, but the group was too big for lots of questions. It is always fun to go to a new market in another country, though. 

After the market visit came the basket boat ride where we also went mud crab fishing. The lady who took us, Thu, told us she was in her 60's. Did I mention how hard the women here work? It felt really weird to have a woman in her 60's paddle us around. Like we should have been the ones doing the paddling. Misgivings aside, it was fun to take a spin in the basket boat. And even though we only caught two crabs, I felt pretty good about adding crab fishing to my back-of-mind survival skills collection.

And finally, after the basket boat, we got onto the cooking.

We made a banana flower and papaya salad (on the bottom with hard-boiled quail eggs and rice noodle rolls), grilled tofu and eggplant with chunky peanut sauce (upper left), and Cao Lau. Once again, it was too much to eat, but it was very tasty. And I'll try making that grilled tofu again, it'll be a good addition to our BBQ repertoire. And seriously, if I knew where to find those wide chewy rice noodles, I'd make those again in a heartbeat. I bet I can find them here in Singapore somewhere...

The other thing we did in Hoi An, in and amidst our visits to the old town--one of the big parts of the tourism industry here is tailoring. There are so many shops here that make custom suits, dresses, shirts, pants, etc. and other than a disappointing pencil skirt I had made in Thailand, I've never really gone to a tailor to have clothes made for me. I was curious to try, and went to two different tailors and had three dresses made. I think they were all successes. I didn't really know what to expect, so walked in and chose a couple of designs they had in their catalogs--and asked for the addition of pockets--and selected fabrics, and 24 hours later I had my dresses. It felt surreal to have dresses made for me, like it was a fantasy come to life almost. I don't think I've ever fantasized about having clothes made for me, but it felt--spoiled, privileged, and frankly fun. 

They cost about the price of a dress from H&M or Zara anyway, so my expectations weren't super high, and they delivered clothes that fit my body, my specifications. I was (and am) utterly delighted. The next time we move, I'm definitely making a quick trip to Hoi An to get some things made--blazers, dresses, whatever I think I might want for the next climate I go to. For Singapore--sleeveless and short is my dressing strategy, and that gets me through maybe a few weeks of the year in Seattle!

For our last dinner out, we had the awkward restaurant interaction where they tried to hide us in a side/upstairs table, then we got lots of angry glares from the group of locals who came in. So we left and went next door. Next door was way better. We sat out, barefoot, on a cushy daybed and ordered cocktails and banh mis and claypot pork, and watched the sunset. 

Then we stopped at my favorite place in An Bang--Beach Village Restaurant. The owner and people who worked there were friendly and kind, and the owner shares the story of his dad who used to be a fisherman, but then as he aged made a career change to pig farming and making his own rice whiskey. We stopped in for some rice whiskey and then bought a bottle to take back with us. He doesn't usually sell bottles (probably no one else has ever asked!) but I loved that it's something his dad makes, a home distillery, so we got a sneaky half liter in an unlabeled bottle to take back with us. It's herb-infused and strong, but again, the story got me right in the heart strings. 

Between the colonial old town, the rice paddies with water buffalo, the food, the clothes, the beach, and daddy's herb-infused rice whiskey, Hoi An is a rad place. Laid back, less busy, but with much to do and see. A few working days was not enough time for me, but I do believe we'll be back. If only pushed over the line by the promise of a few new wardrobe pieces.