Clothes, Shoes and Seafood: A Hoi An Love Story

Early the next morning, we took our time leaving our riverside apartment to mosey along to breakfast in the lobby, knowing that we’d have to suck it up and move to one of the deluxe rooms for the rest of our stay (alas, our upgrade wasn’t permanent). The complimentary breakfast here wasn’t quite the Camellia’s. Though the Pho was OK, most of the food catered to far less adventurous mainly-European tourists. Croissants and pastries are fine, but we don’t want them to take the place of the delights of Vietnam. Still, the riverside verandah where the breakfast tables were set made it all worth it, and we resolved that a free meal beats one you have to pay for. We’d just make up for it by finding great Vietnamese food for lunch and dinner.

It was probably noon by the time we boarded the shuttle to town. Getting off at our Hotel’s sister site in the city center, cleverly named Hoi An Hotel, we used Lonely Planet’s Hoi An walking tour as a framework to explore the town (liberally adding and subtracting sites), something easy to do in a place as small and friendly as Hoi An. The “sites” of Hoi An are mainly 18th and 19th century assembly halls erected by Chinese merchants. Before the river silted over, Hoi An was the major trading port of Central Vietnam, to be superseded in following centuries by Da Nang. The delegation halls bear the names of the Chinese regions from which the merchants came: Canton, Hainan, etc. There are also some lovely pagodas and a picturesque Japanese covered bridge. But the true draw of Hoi An is not the sites, but the silks. Aside from the natural beauty of the beach and river, people come to Hoi An to shop. We recommend, when in Vietnam, you do little shopping (and certainly no garment shopping) before you arrive in Hoi An.

While strolling past a 16th century temple dedicated to the Chinese hero of the Warring States period, Zhuge Liang, we were approached by a girl who invited us to visit her family’s silk shop, hidden in the city market. Now, a point that we did not know before arriving in Hoi An, is that the vendors can be divided into two groups: those that may sell in the market, and those that may not. According to our new friend, the government does not tax sellers in the market as heavily as those who have actual storefronts on the streets. Therefore, she said, the prices in the market were lower than the other vendors’.

Wanting to procure some new suits and dresses, and Katie putting on her game face, we happily followed her into the warren of stands under the familiar blue tarps. In the central market building, we passed rows of identical tailor stands, sewing machines, and stacked fabrics of silk, wool, and linen until we reached her sister’s shop, identified only by its number, 52. We spent a couple hours there being measured, picking out fabrics and styles, and, of course, haggling over the price. After eventually receiving the “honeymoon discount,” we were told to come back in about 24 hours to try on the new clothes they were to craft for us for fine-tuning.

We came to find that one of the girls measuring us was not, in fact, a tailor, but a cobbler, whose family owned the shoe shop just around the bend. Helping her friends out of boredom, curiosity, and an eye for new business, she invited us to take a look at some books of shoe styles that she and her young cousin would make for us. As an aside: we might have turned this offer down, had Katie’s room mate Kristan not sworn by a pair of boots she had made in Hoi An.
As we looked through books of shoes, it was a pleasure to sit and chat with Vi and Ha (18 and 23, respectively) about universal female topics: boyfriends, honeymoons, sexy shoes, and babies (Adam was nonplussed). The girls were sincere in their well-wishes for us as newlyweds, and honest in their bargaining. So, another couple of hours later, we were told to expect a few pairs of new shoes to try on the next day.

Considering our day rather successful (2 new suits, 2 tailored shirts and a pair of shoes for Adam; 2 new dresses, a pair of boots, and a pair of “sexy shoes” for Katie), we set our sights on dinner. While certainly not a traditional Vietnamese hole in the wall, Before and Now, a swanky hipster fusion restaurant suited our needs. Full of expats and trendy Vietnamese, offering endless Euro-pop music, wi-fi and cool, politically charged original artwork, this place was definitely worth the slightly higher (very relative, of course) prices. At a table next to paintings of Che in sunglasses imposed on a coca-cola label, and titled “Enjoy Che Guacola,” and Bono emblazoned with the Superman logo, we enjoyed seafood spring rolls, Hoi An specialty “white rose” dumplings, and a bottle of Temperanillo (did we mention they had a great wine list and elegant stemware to match? This was a first on our trip). After dinner, we carried our full bellies back to the shuttle and headed home to take a quick dip in one of the two pools at the resort before turning in.

Upon waking up on our third morning, we realized that we were finally getting into the relaxed flow of Hoi An and decided to extend our stay another two nights. Spending the morning at the beach (where we somehow got wireless reception that allowed Katie to write a final exam for class), we planned our afternoon around picking up our garments and shoes. After a few hours in town, including multiple fittings of clothes and shoes requiring some fine adjustments, we snacked by the riverside at a restaurant simply known by its address, 69. We had yet another spectacularly fresh seafood salad. The fishermen in Hoi An do brisk business, so the seafood there is exceptionally fresh. We saw this firsthand as we strolled through the market later that day.

After having another drink at Before and Now (why leave a good thing?) and realizing that our shoes would not be ready til the next morning, we headed back to our palapa until sundown. As we mentioned, the pace of life in Hoi An becomes infectious. Having two more days before needing to board another overnight train for Saigon, we decided the Beach would get our full attention on one (it may not be imaginative, but was exactly what we needed) and My Son, the ancient holy city of the Champa Empire would take the other.

So heading back into town the next morning to pick up our shoes, in the middle of a fishing shop, we ran into Em Ma, a new character to add to the cast. She emplored us to take a look at her silk shop, telling us the secret of shopping in Hoi An is, in fact, to avoid the market, where many different craftsmen and the cronies they use to motorbike their goods from homes to market take a commission, which, in turn, drives up the price. Intrigued at the possibility that we’d been had (despite being happy with both product and price at 52), we followed her to her store. She assured us anything was possible in the less than two days we had left, and subsequently, we ordered more clothes at what was, indeed, a cut rate from what we’d paid in the market. Sitting in the shop, drinking tea, and chatting with family members was a treat (including Adam playing a color matching game with Em Ma’s tiny neice, Mango; and Katie having her hair braided by sisters). And, by the way, keeping it all in the family, we booked our ride to My Son with Em Ma’s son, Johnny, who spoke excellent English from his business dealings in Europe and Australia.

After dinner at a restaurant recommended by the family (featuring a dynamite grilled fish in banana leaf), we headed back to the hotel for a late night drink and to see the lanterns in the water… which were not in the water… perhaps the tides worked against us.