I am going to skim past a couple days here because I’m sure you don’t want to read about us waiting in the airport for six hours for our delayed flight, or the two times (two!) we ate Burger King, cause we’re disgusting. Suffice it to say, we disembarked our Halong Bay cruise after breakfast the next morning, rode back to Hanoi, spent one night in Hanoi, then spent a whole day in the airport waiting for our flight to Danang. We landed in Danang, taxied to our guesthouse in Hoi An, and immediately went to sleep. It’s not a gripping tale.
The biggest problem with Hoi An is knowing when to put your camera down. I have never been in a city so photogenic (and I’ve been to almost all the major players in Italy, France, and Switzerland). Sunny stucco and dark teak trim enrobes every French-Colonial building. Nothing is higher than two stories. Bright-pink hollyhock greets you around every bend, in the narrow alleys that lead to the slow, graceful river. And everywhere above, a rainbow of paper lanterns. At night, this city looks like a lit-up kaleidoscope–it’s magical. I think you could probably just point your camera in a random direction and shoot, and you’d end up with something frameable. This is the city that greeted us when we first left Nu Ni Homestay.
The air was balmy. We made our way through Hoi An’s enticing lanes to a spot at the end of one of its many alleys. Phin Coffee is hidden from the main thoroughfare. That doesn’t stop people from finding their way to it’s secret garden courtyard to get their caffeine fix. This is likely because the coffee is so good and the courtyard so botanical. Aaron and I smeared mustard on an excellent egg croissant and sipped iced coconut coffees while we plotted what to do with our first day in Hoi An.
We decided we’d do nothing in particular. We window-shopped her tailoring shops and craft stores, meandered over her bridge and alongside her river. We breathed in the incense wafting from the shops and houses. How could a place be so entirely and effortlessly enchanting? If Hoi An were a person, she’d be that girl you want to hate because she’s always gorgeous without trying, but you can’t because she’s also kind and genuine and just generally lovely to be around.
We wound up, eventually, on the second-floor patio of Cargo Club, looking out over the Thu Bồn River. Our first real meal in Hoi An was superb. Tiny, fried wonton nachos held fresh tomato and crabmeat, a green papaya salad served as a bed for chewy, dried sesame beef, and steamed, dumpling-dough blossoms cradled shrimp paste and mushrooms. This last dish was called “white rose”; it’s a specialty of Hoi An. All of it was delicious, and entirely unchallenging in a way that Aaron and I really need right now. The only ding I would give them was for the cloying Hoi An Love cocktail, but, in all fairness, our server warned me it was sweet and I ignored her.
Aaron and I parted ways after lunch. He needed some time to rest in our room, and I wasn’t ready to leave the Old Town. I popped into a couple of clothing shops to admire the handiwork, and eyed some pieces at Reaching Out Craft Shop, where the artisans are all differently-abled. I stumbled upon a coffee shop with good reviews, Mun Cafe. Upstairs, they had a balcony where you could watch the street below. I wrote and drank a chai tea until Aaron could join me again. By then, however, all of my devices, including the ever-convenient external battery we brought along, needed charging. Aaron confessed that he needed some more time in the room (or, rather, his stomach did), so we returned to the room to recharge our stuff and ourselves.
Once we’d gorged ourselves on napping, we decided to taxi up to Danang to see some of the Tết festivities. We started with a walk down My Khe Beach, which is a bit like a cleaner Atlantic City shoreline. Flashing, neon, multi-colored lights drew attention from the waves to Danang’s hotels and resorts, but the cityscape was a dazzling backdrop for our walk. Once it got dark enough, the sand crabs emerged, and there were a heck of a lot of them. I’m not going to say I’m scared of some measly, little sand crabs, but I’m not going to deny it either. We left the sand for the safety of the boardwalk.
Our dinner reservation wasn’t for another couple of hours, so we stopped in a skyscraper hotel with a rooftop bar for a pre-dinner cocktail. The glass railing at Skybar left an unimpeded view of Danang’s flashing lights.
Dinner was at Fatfish, which was sort of a weird name for what seemed like, predominantly, a pizza restaurant. Our reservation had secured us a table on the edge of the balcony, overlooking Danang’s Hàn River. I ordered a pale ale; I normally would not, but this was a juicy and not-too-bitter creation from Heart of Darkness, Saigon’s craft brewery. Aaron and I had several spirited debates while we chowed down on some delicious ‘zza: whether every restaurant with a pizza oven was a pizza restaurant, whether white chocolate was chocolate (Aaron said it wasn’t because chocolate comes from the root word for cocoa, I tripped him up by asking if peanut butter was a nut butter and then pointing out that peanuts aren’t nuts), whether hot chocolate and chocolate cake were acceptable forms of chocolate. Mostly food-related, friendly disagreements. For dessert, we found agreement on a passion-fruit crème brûlée.
We finished and paid just in time to catch the Dragon Bridge’s show, which takes place every Saturday and Sunday at 9pm. Crowds had already gathered along the river to watch, and Aaron and I squeezed into them. The Dragon Bridge is a working, automobile bridge that crosses the Hàn. Several, consecutive arches run along the bridge’s north side, with a giant, metal dragon head at both ends. Tour boats on the river crowded around these heads now. When the clock struck nine, a giant plume of fire issued forth from the dragon’s maw. Then he did it again, then again. Then he switched to water, raining it down on the gathered masses. It was a sight to behold.
Aaron and I spent a couple of hours exploring Danang’s night market, which had turned into more of a fairground for the Tết holiday. Booths where you could pop a balloon with a dart to win a stuffed animal were mixed in with craft sellers and food vendors. There was also maybe a drag show? This was an interesting thing to witness at such a family-oriented event-space, but there seems to be a lot more tolerance for it here. I think America would benefit from this sort of attitude, cause these Queens were killing it and the kids were loving it and clapping along.
After, we cabbed back to Hoi An. We stayed up late drinking beer in the room and talking about life, the universe, and everything until we couldn’t keep our eyes open anymore.
Hanoimoon 