Four days in heavenly Hoi An

My friends, I've reached the promised land. Hoi An is the Vietnam we imagine: scenic, charismatic, idyllic. The town is a small village along a sweet river, with lush rice paddies and vegetables fields all around. Old Hoi An is a dream with narrow streets, beautiful yellow buildings and inviting restaurants and shops. Things are bustling down at the market and everywhere tailors hawk their wares. But Hoi An is different: the locals are very relaxed and smile easily. And, wonder upon wonder, it is so quiet here! While the rest of Vietnam seems to march to a cacophony, Hoi An drifts along in sweet silence.

I arrived early in the morning on Tuesday, unceremoniously dumped out of the night bus. It is hard for the body to get over half-sleepless nights spent in transport, but after a shower and a nap I was ready to live again. Having spent too much time thinking in Nha Trang, I immediately set about to plan some activities. When I was a brooding teenager, my mother (the gym teacher) used to say, " Get out of your mind and into your body!" So I signed up for a cooking course, made arrangements for a tour to some temples, and...visited the tailor.

Hoi An is known as the best place in Vietnam to have clothes and shoes custom-made. The tailors here are masters of imitation: you just show them a photo or drawing of what you want, they take your measurements and...tadaah! Twenty-four hours later, you have beautiful clothes which fit you perfectly. I must say that having clothes made is very addictive. You can't help but feel like a rock star when you slip away from a lunch date saying, "Oh, please excuse me - I have a fitting with my tailor."

I feel like I can justify my shopping spree because I'm starting my job as a lawyer soon and I'll need to wear suits everyday. Also, if I need any further justification, I can just tell myself that I'm single-handedly curing the world of that economic crisis I keep hearing murmurs about. Now, let's not get into the nitty-gritty about how many suits and dresses and shoes, or what fabrics and colours, or how much it cost to have it all made and shipped home. Suffice it to say that I now have a different outfit for each day of the work-week and enough dress shirts to last through two weeks of not doing laundry. My favourites? The navy suit with white pinstripes just screams powersuit. And I feel like a princess in the black chiffon cocktail dress.

When I wasn't at the tailor's, Hoi An turned out to be a very social place. I hung out with Canadian Luke, met up with Elliott and the Aussie girls and ran into Dana and Graeme, an Aussie/Kiwi couple (respectively) that I met briefly in Sihanoukville. On Tuesday night, about twelve of us all trundled down to Mr. Rin's outdoor cafe and sat on benches or stools at low tables - the bia hoi flowed (4000 dong a glass) and we ordered endless dishes of Hoi An specialities: fried wonton cakes topped with shrimp and vegetables, white rose (which is a very delicate steamed wonton in rice-paper wrapping), sweet and sour squid and Hoi An pancakes.

I was still feeling the effects of the bia hoi the next morning when I had to get up to join the tour to My Son, which is a famous Cham temple nearby. I fumbled down to the hotel lobby only to find that it was pouring with rain. At first, I regretted booking the tour but it turned out beautifully: the rain only enhanced the misty and lush atmosphere at the ruins, which are set in a jungle valley surrounded by mountains. Also, I met a ton of people during the tour. It is great to just chat with people because you hear so many interesting stories and meet kindred spirits.

Wednesday night was Luke's last night in Hoi An and we commemorated our traveling times together with a feast by the river, complete with a bottle of Dalat wine. I was sad to see him leave the next morning and was thankful to have my cooking class to distract me. This was another amazing activity: an interactive tour of the Hoi An market, a boat cruise down the river to the Redbridge Cooking School, great demonstrations and the chance to cook (and eat!) some of Hoi An's specialties. I especially liked learning to make fresh rice paper - so much better than the dried stuff. After a fabulous lunch of never-ending courses, I took a refreshing dip in the pool at the cooking school and lounged with my book riverside, surrounded by palm trees and frangipani.

On my last day in Hoi An, I finalized my fittings and shipping of all my purchases. Then I hired a bicycle and wound my way slowly to Cua Dai beach for a bit of R&R. The beach was wide and empty, with fine white sand and palm trees - just lovely. On Friday night, my tailor Thuy took me out for an amazing dinner. I guess I was the best customer she'd had in a while so she was grateful. We hoped on her moto and sped around the back streets of Hoi An until we reached a local resto. Of course, I was the only non-Vietnamese and Thuy ordered copious amounts of food: Hoi An shrimp pancakes, grilled meat, spring rolls, pickled veg, peanut soup, etc. I ate until I could eat no more. Thuy dropped me at my hotel and it was farewell to Hoi An.

More stories from the road to follow...lots of love to everyone back home.