I arrived in Hoi An at dusk, and the timing could not have been better. My taxi crossed the Thu Bồn River just as the last light was draining from the sky, and suddenly the old town on the opposite bank lit up like a stage set — hundreds of silk lanterns in every colour strung across the streets, their reflections trembling on the dark water. A woman in a conical hat was paddling a wooden boat through the lantern glow, and for a moment I felt like I’d wandered into a film.
Hoi An, Vietnam
Famous for: Ancient town, silk lanterns, tailors, Japanese Covered Bridge, My Son ruins, bánh mì, Thu Bồn River
I checked into my riverside boutique hotel near the old quarter, changed out of my travel clothes, and walked straight into the maze of narrow streets. Within ten minutes I was eating cao lầu — a Hoi An speciality of thick noodles, pork, herbs, and crispy croutons in a rich broth — at a plastic table on the pavement. It cost less than a dollar and tasted like something a chef had spent years perfecting. This, I thought, is going to be a good week.
Hoi An is a UNESCO World Heritage town on Vietnam’s central coast, a former trading port where Japanese, Chinese, and European merchants once mingled. Today it’s one of the most visited places in Vietnam, and for good reason — but it also retains a gentleness and authenticity that bigger cities have lost. Here’s how I spent five days falling in love with it.
Day 1: The Ancient Town on Foot
Hoi An’s old town is small enough to explore in a morning, but rich enough to keep you wandering for days. I started early, before the tour groups arrived, and had the Japanese Covered Bridge — the city’s iconic landmark — almost to myself. Built in the 16th century, it’s a sturdy wooden structure with a small temple inside and a faded elegance that photographs beautifully.
I bought a Hoi An old town ticket, which grants entry to a selection of historic houses, assembly halls, and museums. The Fujian Assembly Hall was my favourite — a riot of red and gold decoration dedicated to Thien Hau, goddess of the sea, with spiral incense coils hanging from the ceiling that burn for weeks. The old merchant houses are fascinating too, their narrow interiors adapted to survive floods and typhoons.
By mid-morning the streets were buzzing. Hoi An is famous for its tailors — there are literally hundreds — and I popped into a few to look at fabrics. The speed is remarkable: you can have a bespoke suit or dress made in 24 hours. I ordered a linen shirt for about €15, which was ready the next day and fit perfectly.
Lunch was mì quảng — turmeric noodles with shrimp and pork — at a market stall on Trần Phú Street. Afterward I rented a bicycle and rode along the river, past rice paddies and water buffalo, to the Trà Quế vegetable village, where farmers have been growing herbs using the same methods for centuries. The ride took twenty minutes, and the contrast between the tourist-packed old town and the quiet countryside was startling.
Day 2: My Son Sanctuary — Temples in the Jungle
Today I visited the My Son ruins, a complex of Hindu temples built by the Champa kingdom between the 4th and 13th centuries. I joined a half-day guided tour to My Son that included hotel pickup and a boat ride back along the river — a much nicer return than the bus.
My Son is often compared to Angkor Wat, which sets expectations unfairly high. It’s smaller and more ruined — much of it was bombed during the Vietnam War — but the setting is magical: crumbling red-brick towers rising from a valley floor surrounded by jungle-covered mountains. The guide explained the Champa civilisation, which I knew nothing about, and pointed out the Sanskrit inscriptions and Hindu iconography carved into the brick. A traditional Cham dance performance at the site added atmosphere.
Back in Hoi An, I spent the afternoon at An Bàng Beach, about four kilometres from the old town. The sand is wide and clean, the water warm, and the beachfront restaurants serve cold beer and fresh seafood for almost nothing. I stayed until sunset, watching fishing boats head out for the night’s catch, their lights flickering on the darkening sea.
Dinner was the highlight: I’d booked a evening street food tour that wound through the old town and the central market. We ate bánh mì (the original — Hoi An claims to have invented Vietnam’s famous sandwich), bánh xèo (crispy rice-flour pancakes), white rose dumplings, and chè (a sweet dessert soup). Each dish cost pennies and tasted extraordinary. Vietnamese food may be the world’s most underrated cuisine.
Day 3: Cooking, Crafts, and the River
I’d signed up for a morning cooking class — something Hoi An is famous for. The class began at the central market, where our chef-teacher showed us how to choose ingredients: the right herbs, the freshest fish, the best rice paper. Then we rode bicycles to a riverside kitchen garden, where we cooked four dishes: cao lầu, fresh spring rolls, bánh xèo, and a mango salad. I ate everything I made, which was both the best and worst decision of the day.
In the afternoon, I explored Hoi An’s artisan side. The town is full of craft workshops — lantern-making, pottery, silk-weaving — and I spent an hour at a lantern workshop watching a woman assemble silk lanterns with astonishing speed and precision. I bought a collapsible one to take home, which now hangs in my kitchen and makes me smile every time I see it.
As evening fell, I rented a boat for a river cruise along the Thu Bồn. The lanterns were coming on, the old town was glowing, and the river was scattered with floating candles released by locals and tourists alike. It was impossibly romantic, even for a solo traveller eating a bánh mì on the stern of a wooden boat.
Day 4: Hue — Imperial Citadels and Tombs
I took a day trip north to Hue, the former imperial capital, about three hours from Hoi An. The morning bus to Hue followed the coast before climbing over the Hải Vân Pass — one of the most scenic road stretches in Southeast Asia, with mist-shrouded mountains dropping to turquoise sea.
Hue is more sombre than Hoi An, still bearing the scars of the Tet Offensive, but its imperial heritage is extraordinary. I spent the morning inside the Imperial Citadel, a vast walled complex modelled on Beijing’s Forbidden City. Much was destroyed during the war, but the restored sections — the Noon Gate, the Thai Hoa Palace, the gardens — give a sense of the grandeur that once was.
After lunch (Hue’s famous bún bò Huế — a spicy, lemongrass-infused beef noodle soup that’s richer and more complex than its Hoi An cousins), I visited the tomb of Emperor Tự Đức, set in a pine forest around a lotus lake. The emperor designed it as a retreat during his lifetime, and you can see why — it’s peaceful, melancholy, and beautiful. I caught the evening bus back to Hoi An, arriving just in time for a bowl of cao lầu (I never got tired of it).
Day 5: Cham Islands and Farewell
My final day was dedicated to the Cham Islands, a small archipelago about 20 kilometres offshore. I booked a snorkelling day trip to the Cham Islands, which departed from Cửa Đại harbour and reached the islands in about thirty minutes by speedboat.
The islands are part of a marine reserve, and the snorkelling was good — colourful coral, schools of sergeant fish, and water clear enough to see the bottom at several metres. We had a seafood lunch on the main island, grilled over charcoal by the boat crew, and spent the afternoon swimming off a quiet beach. It was the perfect antidote to four days of eating and walking.
Back in Hoi An, I had one last mission: picking up my tailored shirt (it fit like a glove) and buying a final bánh mì from the legendary Bánh Mì Phượng, where a queue of locals and tourists snakes down the alley at all hours. I ate it on the Japanese Bridge at sunset, lanterns coming on one by one along the river, and felt the familiar ache of a place I wasn’t ready to leave.
Practical Tips & Budget
- Getting around: The old town is pedestrian-only in the evenings. Bicycles are the best way to explore — most hotels lend them free. For day trips, tours include transport. Renting a car or motorbike is easy for independent exploration of the coast.
- Budget: Hoi An is incredibly cheap. Street food €0.50-2, restaurant meals €3-8, hotels €15-40. My five-day total including tours, tailoring, and all meals was about €400.
- When to go: February to May is the sweet spot — dry, warm, and not too hot. September-November brings typhoon season and flooding. I visited in March and had perfect weather.
- Tailoring tip: If you want clothes made, go on day one and allow time for fittings. Quality varies hugely — ask other travellers for recommendations and don’t choose based on price alone.
- Full moon lantern festival: On the 14th of each lunar month, the old town turns off electric lights and is lit entirely by lanterns and candles. If your dates align, don’t miss it.
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