Hoi An: Where History and Culture Meet

It’s early when I poke my head over the balcony to see the pilot boat coming towards us on the port side of the ship. One man in uniform, his shirt gleamingly white and presumably crisp is standing, his back to a rail on, what I assume to be, the running board. He has a phone in one hand and is talking to a second person, not in uniform, whilst the pilot boat itself, resplendent in car tyres, moves closer and closer. The pilot hands his phone to his mate, primes himself and leaps at the side of our ship. He plunges his arm out and his second-in-command hands him the phone as the tug moves away from the ship. All is good. We have our pilot and we can now proceed to the dock.

How did we miss the shuttle bus to the centre of Da Nang? Quite simply, we are running a minute or so late and unlike those shuttles in Ho Chi Minh City, there is just one bus running to and from the port to APEC Park and we miss it, meaning that we would have to wait an hour for the next one.

And so, we wait. Not on the bus because there was no driver and therefore no air-conditioning and the day was already warm. We walk over to a shelter shed to wait, lamenting at the same time about our bad luck. It’s not really bad luck as we have not planned any excursions and were just going to wander around Da Nang for a while, perhaps visit a market, find some coffee, and return. But that is not how our day progresses.

I am not inclined to take risks. Certainly not when travelling alone, and never in Melbourne. Perhaps Tom is not as cautious as me or he is a better judge of character. Whatever the case may be, any risks we have taken, and a couple come to mind, they have all turned out OK. So, when a young smartly-dressed man happens to come along and offers a tour for the entire day for US$100, we have a dilemma to consider. Should we or should we not take it? I am doubtful, but when questioned about whether he would simply drive us to Hoi An and collect us later, he agrees. By the way, the ship’s shore excursion desk has offered a similar jaunt for US$99 per person, so as far as I am concerned, we have already hit the jackpot. We agree, and we are soon seated in a car, which he drives out of the port and promptly parks outside the main gate. We swap vehicles as a Custom’s official runs across the road and jumps into the car we had driven out of the port in. It’s a bit too early to be slugged with another cost, and it would be super easy for us to return to the ship, so my suspicious mind is in high alert. We take off, the driver assuring us that we are now in his vehicle, but his use of the English language fails to make us understand what had just happened.

We are close to the jungle and from the safety of the car, I observe monkeys playing by the roadside. I have no desire to stop and take photos of them, besides, I am still not 100% sure about our driver, although Tom appears to be quite happy with his choice, and chats along with him, whilst my paranoia increases. He assures us that he will take us to Hoi An but that we must first stop at My Khe Beach. The beach parks are really beautiful, and I relax whilst he points out features as we make our way along the beach road. Eventually we stop and wander down the beach a little way before returning to the car and continuing along the road that leads to Hoi An. One more stop is made at the Stone Village, just metres from Marble Mountain. Here the local stone is used to sculpt intricate designs, including huge lady Buddhas and other sculptures. We are not interested in these and urge our driver to drive directly through to Hoi An.

We arrange a meeting point and time, and we leave our driver, whose name is also Tom, and which, obviously is easy to remember.

Hoi An is a beautiful city, but we are mainly interested in the UNESCO World Heritage Ancient Town, which is easily recognisable by its yellow-painted buildings, terra cotta roofs, and footpaths made up of carved stone. And so, we wander around always alert to the ever-present motorbikes, which loom up behind us and beep, not to let us know there are there, but to move us on. We cross a dilapidated bridge, cordoned off on both sides to prevent motorbikes from entering here because it is in such bad condition. Pedestrians can step over the barrier and walk along and to stop to take photos of the ancient, covered bridge that leads into Hoi An.

Hoi An’s yellow walls, brightly-coloured lanterns, electric cables that appear to be tangled, and friendly faces trying to sell clothes, intricately-cut popup-up cards, and boat rides down the river, is a dynamic and highly active city. We enjoy wandering down the streets, through a vegetable market, with sounds of ‘Look in my shop,’ following us. We eventually succumb to the smell of roasting coffee and select a Hoi An Roastery café to sit in front of a cooling fan and to drink a local coffee, to relax and to take in the street view from the second floor of the café. From one window I can see the different pitches of roofs, green weeds growing between the ancient, curved terra cotta tiles. From the front window I can see the activity on the busy street below, motor cycles, weaving in and out of pedestrians and honking and beeping, lanterns, for which this city is famous, swinging gently in the breeze and goods lined up at street level. Conical hats are worn by locals and visitors alike, and beautiful brightly coloured traditional dresses are worn by wedding parties and models who use this ancient town as a backdrop for their photo portfolios.

We take a ride down the river. At first, we negotiate on a thirty-minute ride, but in true fashion, the driver cuts the engine when we are in the middle of the river and suggests we need an hour-long ride. We explain to her that we are meeting our guide, so a thirty-minute ride is all we have time for. She shrugs, starts the engine and chugs along to the end of an island, and gently turns the boat back to the pier in the middle of town.

Businesses and restaurants we have visited in the past have disappeared and others are now in their buildings, but that doesn’t matter. Hoi An is still an amazing and beautiful city and one that will never lose its appeal or its sense of history. And one does not need to know the history of Hoi An to appreciate its historical features.

Sadly, it is time to meet Tom, our driver, and as per our arrangement, he is waiting for us. It takes an hour to drive back into Da Nang and to the dock; our journey back playing out in reverse. Now that I am not so worried about being kidnapped and murdered by the tout, I can relax and marvel at how many multinational resorts are clustered along the foreshore. From the hills at the end of the beach, the huge lady buddha can be clearly seen rising from the green mountains, and when we turn to skirt the bottom of the hills, there is no sign of the monkeys that were playing on the road this morning. Perhaps it is too hot. Our guide stops at the entrance to the port. He is not allowed to enter, and he directs us to a shuttle to return us to the ship.

As we check back into the ship, I reflect upon the day and remark that our decision may have been seen as a risk, but it is one I am glad we have taken. The downturn of the dollar has meant that people like us are now looking at taking alternate tours to those offered by the ship, and although there is always a risk that someone will try to rip us off, is that any worse than being ripped off by the ship?

We have not yet booked tours in Hong Kong, and perhaps we will leave it to the touts outside the port to see what we are able to get for a fraction of the cost.