The Thu Bon River no longer flows into the sea as it once did, when it served as a gateway for trading ships that reached the river port of Hoi An. Merchants from Vietnam, China, Japan, India, and Europe settled here, recreating fragments of their distant homelands with Chinese temples, Japanese bridges, and French cuisine. Over the centuries, sand has accumulated in the river, making it too shallow for large vessels. The port has since stood still in time—but the town remains, with its riverside streets lined with beautiful wooden houses, waiting for tourism to breathe life into its history.
When I first arrived in Hoi An, it felt like a ghost town—filled with the vibrations of its past and echoes of war. Today, the town has grown, with new buildings expanding into former rice fields. Though diminished, the paddies still encircle the city like a guardian angel or a mirror reflecting the passage of time. Despite the expansion, Hoi An has kept its magic. Locals have grown used to the white faces and wide eyes of visitors, and its streets continue to invite exploration of ancient homes and temples.
I walked along the riverside road and discovered that what used to be a palm grove has become a vibrant village that blends perfectly with the dance of fishing nets cast in the water. The iconic thùng chai—small, round, basket-like fishing boats—still float along the Thu Bon River, the city’s lifeblood, though it is no longer deep enough for large ships.
A Vietnamese legend tells of a monstrous creature whose head rested in India, tail in Japan, and body in Vietnam. Each time this colossal being moved, floods or earthquakes struck. As a result, ships stopped entering the river, and only the fishermen’s boats now dare to navigate its waters.
At the market, I found fresh fish, farm vegetables, and traditional conical hats. The air sparkled with laughter and daily bargains, as age-old flavors mingled with Chinese, Japanese, and French influences.
As I wandered deeper into the old town, I noticed how well-preserved the buildings were. Cars are not allowed, preserving the town’s harmony. I passed the iconic Japanese Covered Bridge, built in the late 16th century by Japanese merchants to link the western Japanese district with the eastern Chinese quarter. Constructed with red wood and gray tiles, this architectural gem crosses a tributary of the Thu Bon. Inside, I admired Hoi An’s signature lanterns and stone guardians—dogs on one end, monkeys on the other—and the bridge’s central altar, dating back to 1719. Known as Lai Vien Kieu, or “Bridge of the Faraway Land,” it is revered as mystical and sacred.
Next, I visited the Cantonese Assembly Hall (Quang Dong), built in 1786 by merchants and sailors from China’s Guangdong province. Its pagoda-like architecture resembles that of Hue, Vietnam’s imperial capital, and the hall is dedicated to the warrior Quan Cong and the sea goddess Thien Hau.
To learn more about this magical town, I visited the Sa Huynh Culture Museum, home to funerary urns over 2,000 years old, and Phung Hung House, residence of one of the city’s wealthiest families, who traded in wood, spices, silk, and porcelain for eight generations. I also explored Tan Ky House, the city’s most famous, preserving 17th-century architecture, as well as Quan Thang House, now a shop, and the Tran Family Chapel, an ancestral altar honoring a prominent Chinese-Vietnamese family.
Time slows down in Hoi An, and I cherished every moment. I took a car to the My Son Sanctuary, a complex of Hindu temples in ruins, located about 40 km from Hoi An. Built between the 4th and 14th centuries by the Champa Kingdom—an ancient Hindu civilization of central Vietnam—it once held over 70 temples, though only a few remain today.
The next morning, I biked through sun-kissed rice fields, visited a small fishing port, and discovered unique local customs—like fishermen painting eyes on the front of their boats to protect them from spirits and sea monsters.
Locals make use of every part of the rice plant. Beyond the grain, they prepare banh dap, a wood-fired rice cake served with sauce. Rice is also distilled into a powerful homemade liquor.
Later, I reached Hoi An’s beach: clear waters, white sand, and a tropical climate. Often empty by day and crowded by night, the beach reflects the Vietnamese ideal of white skin, leading many locals—especially women—to avoid the sun.
Handicrafts are central to Hoi An’s culture. Wandering the old town, I found countless small shops inside narrow, two-story houses selling silk dresses, suits, paintings, and artisan goods. Most striking are the colorful Hoi An lanterns, unique in Vietnam. As night falls, they light up the city in red—the color of joy and loyalty in Vietnamese culture.
The Marble Mountains of Danang
After Hoi An, I journeyed to the Marble Mountains, a group of five peaks known as Ngu Hanh between Hoi An and Danang. A popular site for pilgrimage and spiritual retreat, each mountain represents one of the five elements: Hoa Son(fire), Kim Son (metal), Tho Son (earth), Thuy Son (water), and Moc Son (wood).
These 500-meter-high formations rise dramatically from the plains, sheltering Buddhist pagodas, remnants of Champa civilization, and natural caves carved by erosion and time.
Thuy Son, the largest peak, features pagodas, caves, and two scenic viewpoints offering stunning vistas of Danang and the East Sea. Its three rocky spires echo the shape of the Big Dipper, dominated by Tam Thai Peak, home to the 1630 Tam Thai Pagoda. I climbed the western path with 156 steps (the eastern has 108) and discovered the Linh Nham Cave, where light pierces the stone to create breathtaking effects.
At the summit, I also visited Linh Ung Pagoda, with its Xa Loi tower, and ventured into Huyen Khong Cave, home to a massive altar carved from stone. My last stop was Am Phu Cave, nicknamed the “Cave of Hell,” with steep steps leading from heaven to hell. Inside, eerie statues and skeletons depict Buddhist visions of the afterlife.
Moc Son (wood) is the only mountain without pagodas or caves and is not open to the public. Kim Son (metal), along the Co Co River, houses a pagoda and Quan Am Cave, famous for stalactites and stalagmites resembling Buddhas and dragons.
Hoa Son (fire) once had two rivers flowing from its summit to the sea, forming a yin-yang symbol said to bring peace and harmony. There, I visited Champa ruins and Pho Da Son Pagoda, a modest temple with an 18th-century inscription marking the visit of Emperor Minh Mang and his sister Princess Ngoc Lan.
Tho Son (earth) is the smallest, made of clay and marble. Once used as a Champa military base, it now reveals only reddish bricks. Locals say it resembles a sleeping dragon. I visited a war-era tunnel and the 1992 Long Hoa Pagoda, and nearby, a 30-meter rock column said to symbolize Buddha.
Leaving was bittersweet. My soul ached as I departed this welcoming place, embraced by kind people and stories that spanned the colonial era, wars, and the present day. Walking the alleyways and speaking with women who had lived through it all was like reading a living history book. Hoi An will forever remain in my memory—a paradise in a country that always welcomes me like one of its own.
When to visit
All year round. Tropical climate makes it pleasant, with some afternoon rains in summer.
How to get there
Flights available from Siem Reap (Cambodia), Hanoi, and Ho Chi Minh City.
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Text and photos by Patrick Monney
