Hoi An: enchanter of the senses

by Tzvetelina Ignatova (Bulgaria)

I didn't expect to find Vietnam

Experiencing Hoi An is much like stumbling upon a precious jewel box that belonged to dynasties of different origins. The town houses ancient Chinese homes, distinct Japanese architecture and boutique French facades. As I opened this box, I hardly expected it would enchant all my senses. Touch Occasionally, her fingertips touch my skin. My eyes are closed. Arms spread open, but I am not ready to fly. Not yet. A sweat drop makes its way down my face. Before it reaches the tip of my nose, the fan in the room has swiftly changed its direction towards me and blows it away. “Stand easy and breathe”, she says, as she wraps the measurement tape around my chest. “Would you like it slim-fit or relaxed?” “Slim-fit”, I answer. If it is tailor-made then it has to be slim-fit, sculpturing those ‘to-brag-about’ features of mine. I am in one of the many tailor shops of Hoi An. If I were to describe this place in a word, it’d go for ‘craft’. Hoi An thrives on artisan shops that offer tailor-made products. My skin, enveloped in moist and sealed with the kiss of heat, takes a break at dusk by the merciful caress of the river breeze. The touch of Hoi An. Smell I can hardly remember it, yet when exposed to a certain scent, it takes me on a journey back in time, as I recall the memory in rich details. The mornings in Hoi An fill my nostrils with the fine aroma of dripping coffee and fresh baguettes. At midday, I could smell my skin burning under the sun, while cycling my way to where I could’ve gone at a not so inconsiderate time. The afternoons at the market are a bouquet of herb and spice scents. And when the sun submerges into the depths of the Universe, the fragrance of time standing still is as if bottled in the Old Town of Hoi An. A dash of leather scent accompanies the mood of the evening. As I make my way home, scented sticks thicken the already dense air. It feels like a blanket covering the evening. One that suggests it is time to “Put your shoes at the door, sleep, prepare for life.” Hearing Hoi An is a quiet place sliced by the sound of fans. Silence is disturbed by random waves that merge with the golden sand of the beach. But there are barely any waves. The sea here is even. Much like the air, which is still and dense with heat. People here worship the karaoke and sing. They sing out loud and with no shame. They do not sing well, I tell you, but they sing. You can’t blame them. There is no better soundtrack to your life than the one coming from your heart… and throat. Or is there? The most beautiful sound to me in Hoi An is the one coming out of the street speakers in the old part of the town. The violin concerto is the finest soundtrack to an evening stroll. Taste Black, white, coconut or egg, the coffee here is strong and sweet. I keep thinking if I overdo with white coffee, which has condensed milk in it, I will end up with black teeth. But it is not so much the flavour I favour, it is about the delightful aftertaste that remains. Hoi An’s aftertaste is sweet—not only because of that condensed milk, but because of its cuteness. Sight Blue skies and green fields. People sitting on their tiny chairs on the street, playing games. The yellow Old Town filled with colourful lanterns which twinkle through the darkness. They all add to the enchanting aura of this place. Beyond the stillness and the heat, life keeps rolling here… rolling by the river, by the sea, on bicycles… rolling by the fields of rice and herbs. Hoi An is blue, yellow and green. It is like nothing else I’ve ever seen. The 6th sense, I’ve put in a treasure box.