Before arriving in Hoi An, I knew two things about the city. First, its Ancient Town is one of Vietnam’s most famous destinations and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Second, every photograph seemed to show glowing silk lanterns hanging above picturesque yellow streets.
What I did not expect was how different the town would feel depending on the time of day—and how much that changed my impressions.
A Walk Through History
For our first full day in Hoi An, we booked a guided walking tour of the Ancient Town.
There were two other guests, making it feel more like a conversation than a formal tour. Our guide, Carla, introduced us to the history behind the streets we were walking through.
At one time, Hoi An was one of Southeast Asia’s most important trading ports. Merchants from China, Japan, and other parts of Asia settled here, leaving behind influences that can still be seen today.
One of the most famous landmarks is the Japanese Covered Bridge, built in the sixteenth century to connect the Japanese and Chinese quarters of the town. Inside the bridge is a small temple dedicated to Tran Vo Bac De, a deity associated with weather and protection from storms and floods.
Carla also shared a Japanese legend connected to the bridge. According to the story, a giant sea monster named Mamazu stretched across Asia, with its head near India and its tail near Japan. Whenever it moved, earthquakes, typhoons, and tsunamis followed. The bridge was supposedly built to pin the creature down and keep it from causing destruction.
Whether or not people believe the legend, the bridge is still an important spiritual place. Even today, locals make regular offerings there in hopes of good weather.
The bridge construction began in the Year of the Monkey and was completed in the Year of the Dog.
This zodiac balance is right there in plain sight as you enter the bridge. Two monkey deities greet you at the entrance from the Japanese side of town, while their canine counterparts stand guard at the entrance from the Chinese side.
As we continued walking, lanterns appeared everywhere. They hung above streets, outside restaurants, and across courtyards in every imaginable color.
Carla explained that lantern-making remains one of Hoi An’s most important traditional crafts. Before electricity arrived in the town, lanterns provided much of its nighttime illumination. Surprisingly, electricity only became widespread here in the 1990s. At that time, the Ancient Town was largely overlooked and populated mainly by older residents.
Everything changed in 1999 when Hoi An received UNESCO World Heritage status and tourism transformed the town.
Living With Floods
One story from the tour stayed with me long after we left.
Hoi An experiences regular flooding during typhoon season, sometimes severe enough to send water into the upper floors of buildings.
Walking through the Ancient Town, Carla pointed out the narrow streets running toward the river. Their layout is not accidental. They help channel floodwater away when the river rises.
She showed us photographs from recent floods where water reached second-floor levels.
What impressed me most was not the flooding itself but how residents respond.
As the water begins to recede, families immediately start cleaning their homes. Neighbors help one another clear mud and debris throughout the night. The next day the community cleans the streets together. By the third day decorations are rehung, businesses reopen, and life returns to normal.
It gave us a good understanding of the remarkable resilience of local people and how they’ve adapted to living with floods as part of everyday life.
The Ancient Town Before the Crowds
When our tour began at 8:30 in the morning, the streets were relatively quiet.
By the time it ended shortly after 11:00, the atmosphere had changed completely.
Tour groups filled the narrow lanes, restaurants were busy, and the pace felt entirely different.
We decided to return another day even earlier.
The following morning we arrived around 7:30. This was the version of Hoi An I enjoyed most.
The streets were quiet, with shops and restaurants only beginning to open for the day. We wandered around and quickly got lost in a maze of narrow twisting streets, exploring every nook and cranny of the Ancient Town.
Old houses, most painted bright yellow—apparently to help hide river mud—glowed in the soft morning light. Hundreds of silk lanterns in bright colors and variety of shapes swayed gently in the breeze, adding subtle movement to otherwise still streets. Along the river, boats and bridges reflected in the calm water while the town slowly woke up around us.
It was beautiful. Peaceful.
Yet something felt strangely absent.
Despite all its charm, the Ancient Town did not feel like a living neighborhood. We saw almost no children playing, no teenagers gathering, and few signs of everyday life beyond businesses preparing for another day of tourism.
During our tour, Carla had mentioned that many local residents no longer lived in the Ancient Town because rents had become prohibitively expensive.
Walking those peaceful streets that morning, I finally understood what she meant.
Hoi An’s Ancient Town felt less like a neighborhood and more like an exceptionally well-preserved museum.
Beyond the Ancient Town
We had our fill of the Ancient Town, and as the crowds there started to gather, we left.
On our way home, we stopped at Tan An Market.
Instead of the tourist crowds and carefully restored buildings of the Ancient Town, we found noise, movement, and energy of a very different kind.
A constant din of vendors calling out and customers bargaining filled the air.
Motorbikes squeezed through the narrow alleys of the market, weaving precariously between stalls overflowing with produce and people on foot.
Tables and the ground were a riot of color from fruit and vegetables of every kind.
Everything felt alive.
After spending the morning in a place shaped by tourism, it was refreshing to experience a place designed entirely for local residents going about their daily routines.
We dived right in, feeling comfortable with Vietnamese markets by this point. One duck, one piece of fish, and a bag of vegetables later, we returned home quite content with our morning. Wielding a pan and a pot like pros now, I cooked the duck and the fish so we had meals ready for several days.
Hoi An After Dark
The next day, a full moon gave us another reason to visit the Ancient Town. According to what I had read online, Hoi An’s monthly lantern festival takes place on each full moon, when the town is supposedly lit only by traditional lanterns after electricity is switched off.
By this point, we had already seen the Old Town twice during the day, so it felt like the right moment to experience it after dark. We went for an early dinner and walked toward the Thu Bon River as dusk gathered.
The river, which had been relatively sleepy during the day, was coming alive quickly. Small boats with silk lanterns lined the banks, waiting for passengers and offering short lantern-lit rides between the bridges. Street vendors also sold small paper lanterns that visitors could light and float on the water while making a wish.
Slowly, the boats filled up and drifted along the river as darkness deepened. Lantern-lit streets along the river, lantern-lit boats on the water, and small paper lanterns floating downstream created a layered, almost surreal scene. It was very pretty—really magical.
But we were not the only ones drawn to it.
As more people finished dinner and arrived, the crowds grew with each passing minute.
By around seven, it was too much for us, and we eventually left for the quieter side streets.
Ironically, these inner streets were much more pleasant at that hour, with most people heading toward the river.
There was one final wrinkle: the promised electricity shutdown never happened. The lanterns were lovely, but the electric lights stayed on throughout the evening, and this full moon night ended up feeling much like any other night in the Old Town.
Final Thoughts
Hoi An Ancient Town was every bit as photogenic as its reputation suggests.
At the same time, its popularity often made it difficult for us to fully enjoy. The moments we appreciated most were the quieter ones: an early morning walk through still-empty streets, a brief stroll along the river as lantern-lit boats began to appear at dusk, or wandering through nearly deserted side streets later in the evening after most visitors had gathered by the waterfront.
Even then, the Ancient Town often felt more like a beautifully preserved museum than a living neighborhood. But during those quieter moments, its history, architecture, and atmosphere came through most strongly—and that was when we enjoyed it most.
After exploring the Ancient Town at all hours, it was time to discover the surrounding villages and countryside for a different taste of Hoi An.
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