Hoi An is divided by a river and contains a series of well-preserved historical buildings. An enclosed Japanese bridge built in 1564, a library, a museum of textiles and ceramics, a medieval communal meeting house. All testify to the town’s now defunct international credentials.
It was the focal point for regional trade as early as the 16th century. A coastal town and erstwhile port, it has assumed the characteristics of each successive wave of traders from Thailand, India, Japan and latterly, France.
UNESCO World Heritage status encouraged whole sale refurbishment. Now its streets are dominated by 18th century villas, painted a uniform yellow. Wood decorates every frontage, in balconies and screens, window frames and heavy doors.
It has reinvented itself from a town that trade moved on from to a popular tourist haunt.
In the day light it is pleasant and picturesque place with attractive tree lined avenues and tasteful shops kept in line by strict planning requirements. This would be reason enough to pay a visit.
As darkness falls Hoi An reveals herself as a seductress as she slips into something a little more comfortable.
The yellow fades to a ravishing ochre in the twilight. The wood darkens like molasses. Lanterns in every colour are lit in each door way and window. They appear in trees, on telegraph poles and hang from every balcony. An array of lacquered wooden craft goods, silks and silverware spill out of shops and onto the pavements. Vibrant Vietnamese art works, with broad sweeps of primary colour, peep out from un-shuttered windows and open doorways. Each of the numberless restaurants fills the air with a heady fusion of aromas from international and Vietnamese cuisine.
It is impossible not to be seduced as the scene is perfectly lit and impeccably dressed.
Merchant Ivory would have been proud to call it their own.
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