Hoi An and the Art of Wandering

Lanterns, Tailors, and Missed Purchases

By nightfall, Hoi An stops looking like a city and begins resembling a
slow-moving festival of light.

Luckily, we had no agenda for Hoi An. Of the cities we visited, Hoi An felt like the one where I could simply absorb the atmosphere.  

A young Vietnamese friend had joined us. Leaving Mani in the hotel with his favourite possession — mobile phone, early in the evening we left for what I later understood was the reason the younger duo chose the city.

The city central market feels a little cramped, shops exuding old world charm, clean roads but broken footpaths much like Indore, the city named the cleanest in India.

Yet what surprised me was how the city is the hub of bespoke attire. Custom suits, shirts, dresses, or leather shoes, whatever you need, you can get it made within 48 hours, that too, at very affordable prices. I was reminded of James Bond and his sculptural suits, and marvelled at how unknown Hoi An tailors can stitch perfectly fitting suits for bodies of all shapes and silhouettes within a few hours, and deliver them without even the tiniest delay.

The two-storey mall-like store we went into, had hundreds of bolts of fabric for shirts, suits, trousers and dresses, stacked on floor-to-ceiling racks along the walls. Ao-Dai clad women, armed with small crossbody bags carrying phones, notepads, measuring tape and pens were attending to each customer, speaking English, showing them the material, suggesting shades, tones, lining and taking measurements.

You show them the design you want, and their on-site tailors make it. The young man with us chose to get three formal suits and shirts each stitched, as I kept shaking my head, confused - how could anyone finally decide, the choice was mind-boggling.

It was dark by the time we finished. We went to the one Bahn Mi shop once featured by famously unfiltered chef late Anthony Bourdain. There was a long winding queue at the counter. One chooses their own ingredients for the famous Vietnamese sandwich, as you do at most other places. But it was the Bahn Mi bread, a surprise – golden brown crunchy on the outside, soft, pale sponge as you bit into it. I wish I had not been so generous and shared mine with Mani who had made no effort for it, after all.

The next day was the only full day we had, so we decided to visit the Hoi An Museum of History and Culture. But we discovered it shut between morning and afternoon hours.

So we abandoned sightseeing plans and wandered into the old town and market instead.

Giant trees lined the roads and fragrant flowers from shrubs made the walk a pleasure. Flower pots with giant palms and tropical evergreens dotted the roads.

We stopped at Quan Am Pagoda (Chua Quan Am), dedicated to Avalokitesvara or the Goddess of mercy worshipped by merchant mariners. The exquisitely carved red-and-gold wooden altar with the seated Bodhisattva, has decorative calligraphic panels.  

The hand pump in the courtyard outside was a reminder that Vietnam has marched into modern times, but is well aware of its past and legacy.

I also bowed my head at the altar in the Minh Huong Communal House Mani had stepped in, to see the paintings. It was built by the descendants of Chinese people who fled to Vietnam when Minh dynasty rule ended and Qing rulers came to power.

Top Left, right and bottom right: At Quan Am Pagoda, carved altars, wish trees, and even an old hand pump coexist with ease. Bottom left: At the Minh Huong Communal House, offerings of fruit, incense, Chocopie, and biscuits sit beneath centuries-old woodwork.

The local residents come to this shrine which has Chinese woodwork structures and Vietnamese designs, for traditional worship and offer the deities fruit, Chocopie and Cosy biscuits.

There were scores of tiny cafes, leather and driftwood craft shops, art galleries, souvenir and knick-knack stores, beyond which was the fruit and vegetables market.

One interesting thing about these craft shops was the artisans were making the articles in front of you.

Mani wanted just one thing, a mask. The woman got up from her carving machine where she was turning roots and wood of trees into beautiful works of art, to show. Armed with one more article for me to dust and clean, he went back to the air-conditioned comfort of the hotel.  

For an hour I wandered alone in the market, enjoying the array, but not actually buying anything. I am hopeless at bargaining. The one cool drink I bought from a street hawker after a lot of gesturing, thinking it was coconut pudding, turned out to be coastal seaweed jelly, in mildly sweet ginger and palm syrup, a lost gamble.

I checked every dress shop looking for a readymade Ao Dai, but they sold only silk, which Vietnam is famous the world over for. They would not be able to stitch for me in less than 72 hours and I did not have that much time.

To erase my disappointment, I joined a Vietnamese coffee-making class in the hotel. The petite young lady guided us through the process, with exact measurements — hot water slowly poured over ground coffee, left to seep and decant before condensed milk was added to the hot beverage. Not a coffee drinker, I added two teaspoonfuls of the decadent condensed milk, a heap of ice and sipped it slowly.

Ground coffee, condensed milk, ice, and mathematical precision — the harmless-looking beverage was shortly responsible for my rocket-like enthusiasm..

As soon as the caffeine shot hit my system, I felt perhaps what a rocket feels like - with its tail on fire. I enthusiastically said ‘yes’ to the young man going for a trial fitting of his clothes. Off we marched to the fabric store, where he tried on his clothes while I chatted with the other customers. A couple of Australians were emphatic that coming to Hoi An for clothes shopping was a wise decision, you enjoy a vacation- good places, excellent food and good people, while getting custom clothes at much, much lower cost.

I made one last unsuccessful round looking for a readymade Ao Dai and came back to the hotel.

The final delivery of tailored clothes was made at the hotel at 8.30 p.m. The cost- one third compared to India.

Being one of the crores of half-informed Indians, who chant, “Nahin, hamare desh se achchha aur sasta nahin ho sakta” (No, it cannot be better and cheaper than in our country), I had to admit, we cannot compete with the Vietnamese tailors. 

After a delicious dinner, we chose to go for a boat ride on the Thu Bon River. During the one-hour ride, the boatman gives you one paper basket each. You light the candle and lower the paper lantern into the river in a small plastic holder. It floats away carrying your wish with the water current. Scores of such lanterns danced on the rippling waters, and a variety of lanterns hung from all the buildings around, making the title of ‘city of lanterns’ for Hoi An seem true.

The caffeine crash came sometime during the ride. My feet which had seemed to work on propellers all evening, were swollen and aching after hours of enthusiastic walking. Sleep took serious persuasion that night.

The next morning after breakfast we took our flight to HCMC and later flew back home.

At the airport, trolleys laden with luggage, children running everywhere, their parents shouting instructions after them, the sight of large bhujiya packets and noise of loud conversations around, announced to me Vietnam is one of the top vacation choices for my compatriots. The feeling that the break was over and I was going back home, where people proudly claim we are 140 crore people, after all, sank in.

Did I miss anything? I did not visit Hanoi, see the Cu Chi tunnels near HCM City, get an Ao Dai made or take the circular boat ride in Hoi An. But worst of all was postponing the decision to buy a painted straw handbag at Hoi An airport, which I could not find anywhere in the HCM city or the airport.

I had forgotten Hoi An carries the past within the modern calendars, while HCM city races towards the future.

Top L: Sculpture or furniture? Even this bench in Hoi An had personality.
Top R: Cyclos and non-la (conical hat) sellers on a lantern-lined street.
Bottom L: A dressmaker at work. Bottom R: Mangoes, durian, and fruit stalls impossible to walk past.

(Concluded)

                                                                                                      - Anupama S Mani