A day in Hoi An

Hoi An, Vietnam

Midday - streetside cafe

The warm air sits heavy on the wooden table, and the fairy lights glow soft among the green plants. I sit here in lightweight, breathable clothes, which the heat makes essential. Local tailors still cut silk and cotton to order at short notice if I need something lighter.

Midday - streetside cafe

A rich coffee smell rises from the cup in my hands while the street softens behind me. I hold it and breathe in before the next stop for food. At Cao lầu Không Gian Xanh they serve Hội An's thick rice noodles with pork, herbs, and broth from local well water.

Afternoon - tropical beach

Turquoise water washes cold over my feet on the white sand. I follow the shoreline in a light, loose cotton tunic, the traditional daily dress of this humid coast. Farmers and market vendors still use the conical leaf hat against sun and heavy rain.

Golden Hour - Old town alley

Yellow silk lanterns hang from the balconies as the sun fades over this narrow street. I look up and watch the light fade along the alley. The Japanese Covered Bridge, built in the early 1600s by Japanese merchants just before Japan's isolation, has a small temple set into its structure.

Golden Hour - wet shoreline

Cool wet sand throws back the golden light under my bare feet here. I leave my sandals behind and move slowly along the shore. February to April offers the mildest weather and the lowest rainfall, and February is the driest month.

Golden Hour - deserted beach

Colour fills the sky and a breeze lifts my hair as I face the horizon. I stay a while on this empty stretch of sand. I avoid September to December, when heavy monsoon rains fall and October is the wettest month.

Golden Hour - beach transition

Palm trees turn dark against the twilight as I head back toward town. I keep my pace easy while the day ends. Thanh Ha Pottery Village sits on the Thu Bồn a short way from the centre, where potters still use foot-powered wheels and open kilns.

Night - Thu Bon riverbank

Boats pass in coloured light while a paper lantern rests light against my hand. I keep it near the water a moment longer. This town is a remarkably intact trading port, where centuries of sea trade left lantern-lit streets and Eurasian architecture.

Night - wooden dock

Wooden planks are under my feet, and warm light lies on the water. I step carefully onto a small wooden boat. At Quan Cong Temple, built in 1653, shoulders and knees must be covered; dragons frame the roof and worshippers tend incense coils.

Night - Thu Bon river

River water runs cool around my fingers while golden houses line the bank. I trail my hand through it from the boat. Street vendors press ripe bananas flat, dip them in a lightly sweetened batter, and fry them until golden and crisp.