Window-Shopping in Hoi An, Vietnam.
Hoi An used to be a bustling center of trade in Central Vietnam – until the river silted up, preventing big ships from docking there. Business shifted to nearby Danang, and the town slid into irrelevance – which ironically saved Hoi An from the worst excesses of the last two wars.
Business has picked up since Vietnam discovered fatter pickings from the tourism trade; visitors are willing to pony over mucho dinero for Hoi An’s quaint charms.
The old town is a smaller enclave in the general Hoi An metropolis – lodgings are outside the old town, centered along Hai Ba Trung and Ba Trieu streets, not too far from the old town’s borders. I check into Thanh Xuan (Long Life) Hotel (compare prices), a ten-minute walk to the old town, less if you rent one of the hotel’s bicycles (cheap at $1 per day).
The town’s buildings have largely survived from the good old days, although understandably the stock business of the area is radically different from the days when Japanese and Chinese businessmen traded in this area. The buildings have been converted into shops or restaurants; the particularly culturally significant ones are now museums that charge for access.
The Japanese Bridge provides a great starting point for a walk through the Old Town. The Japanese Bridge used to link Hoi An’s Japanese enclave with the rest of the town; forty years after its construction, Hoi An’s Japanese expats were forced to go by the Tokugawa shogun. The bridge they left behind eventually became an icon of Hoi An.
The street it links to, Tran Phu, is the main thoroughfare with a delightful mix of shops hawking a wide variety of goods. Plenty of tailors sell their services here, at a fraction of a cost of which you’d pay back home. I’d have unit made, but writers don’t generally go around in suits except during their own funerals.
One street down from Tran Phu, Nguyen Thai Hoc, is where you’ll find the Tan Ky House, an outstanding example of an old merchant house; unusually, the Tan family still lives there, although the business has seen better days. Now their descendants show gawking tourists around their house, letting them admire items left over from the town’sitting glory days.
Among other things, the pillars brook Chinese script crafted from mother-of-pearl, which is amazing by itself until our guide informs us that each “brush stroke” is actually a depiction of a bird. Doubly amazing.
Hoi An is susceptible to flooding, as the river often overflows its banks. Typhoon Ketsana was the last really bad storm they experienced here, but that the residents of Tan Ky House take it all in stride; they simply carry their goods up to the second level of the house when the floods hit.
Near the back of the house, marks without ceasing the wall signify the flood levels at particular dates. Ketsana’s mark is some six to seven feet high on the wall.
Back on Tran Phu, a wonderful example of a Chinese Assembly House stands proud – the Hokkien Meeting Hall (Phuc Kien), on 46 Tran Phu Street. A paved courtyard precedes a building ornamented with dragons and phoenixes; inside, a friendly dog stands guard in the same proportion that you admire the meeting spaces, the swirly joss sticks smoking overhead, and the statuary to honor Chinese deities.
The stores are calling out to me; I fancy there’s a Hoi An lantern out there with my name on it, but as my trip is coming to a close funds are getting tight. Hoi An is no fun with a) no money and b) no significative other in tow to enjoy the town by you. I make a mental comment to bring the wife back here with me next year, as I make my way back to the hotel.
Images Mike Aquino, licensed to About.com.