Food & drink
Hoi An, stitched overnight and barely touched by traffic
A trading port that silted up and lost its harbour survived, unusually, by having nothing left worth demolishing. What it kept was a food culture built on well water nobody else has.
By Arthur Penhallow26 September 20263 min read
Hoi An's old town, on Vietnam's central coast a short distance from Danang, survives largely intact for a reason that has nothing to do with careful conservation: its harbour silted up. From roughly the fifteenth to the nineteenth century, Hoi An was one of Southeast Asia's busier trading ports, host to resident merchant communities from Japan, China, Portugal and the Netherlands among others, each of whom left buildings, temples and, in the Japanese community's case, a covered bridge that still stands. When the Thu Bon River's mouth silted up in the nineteenth century, larger ships could no longer reach the port, trade shifted to Danang instead, and Hoi An simply stopped being economically important enough to redevelop.
A town that missed its own modernisation
What that decline left behind is a dense concentration of merchant houses, assembly halls and temples largely unaltered since the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, granted UNESCO World Heritage status in 1999 specifically for that unusual completeness. The Japanese Covered Bridge, built in the early seventeenth century to link the Japanese and Chinese quarters, remains the town's most recognisable structure, small enough that visitors are frequently surprised by how modest it actually is in person compared with how often it appears in photographs.
Cao lau, and why it can only be made here
Hoi An's best-known dish is cao lau, a bowl of thick, slightly chewy rice noodles topped with sliced pork, herbs and croutons, and local tradition holds that the noodles' particular texture depends on water drawn from a specific old well in the town, Ba Le well, along with ash from local trees traditionally used in the noodle-making process. Whether the water is genuinely irreplicable or simply a well-maintained piece of local lore is debated even locally, but the dish itself, found in few other places in Vietnam, is real enough and worth trying on its own terms regardless of the well's precise contribution.
Tailoring, and a reputation partly earned
Hoi An's tailoring trade, dozens of shops offering custom-made clothing turned around within a day or two, grew out of the same merchant-town character that built the old quarter, adapted for a modern tourist economy rather than invented from nothing. Quality and value vary considerably between shops, and it is generally sensible to choose on the basis of a specific recommendation or reputation rather than proximity to the old town's main streets, where the highest footfall does not always correlate with the best work. A fitting typically involves an initial consultation and measurement, a first fitting the same or following day for adjustment, and a final collection before departure, which makes at least two full days in town worth allowing if tailoring is a genuine priority rather than an afterthought squeezed into a single evening.
A monthly night without engines
On the fourteenth day of the lunar month, Hoi An's old quarter traditionally switches off electric lighting along its riverside streets in favour of silk lanterns, and motorised traffic is restricted within the core old town on a broadly similar basis, a practice that has become popular enough with visitors to function as an informal festival even though it began as a more modest local observance. The exact scale and staging varies from month to month, and it is worth treating it as a pleasant possibility rather than a guaranteed spectacle, since visitor demand has inevitably shaped how consistently and elaborately the custom is now maintained for tourists rather than only for residents.
Beyond the old quarter
A short distance outside town, Tra Que herb village grows much of the produce that ends up in central Vietnamese cooking, laid out in small plots tended largely as it has been for generations, and My Son, a set of ruined Hindu temple towers built by the Cham civilisation between the fourth and thirteenth centuries, sits within reach for visitors interested in a history considerably older than the merchant town itself. Both are usually offered as half-day additions to a Hoi An stay, and both reward the detour.
By Arthur Penhallow, the name Atlas & Passage’s editorial team writes under. Prices and dates in the trips below come from the operators and can change.

