to hoi an

The coast between Da Nang and Hoi An

The night train to Hoi An is waiting in the dimly lit station. It’s a little like an old black and white movie, with people in huddled groups, hawkers on the platform and people reaching down to buy their goods or to have a last word with their relatives waiting to see them off.
I’d like to say there were furtive couples in illicit relationships, or strangers plotting their wives’ murders, or spies. But our fellow passengers seem perfectly normal – a British lady working for the WHO, a Vietnamese gentleman who moved to the south during the American War as they call it, and who is now visiting the north for the first time since.
We are shown to our compartment by the carriage attendant who will be with us for the whole trip, about 15 hours right down the coast of Viet Nam. There is something romantic about sleeping on trains and having just read the Great Railway Bazaar this train seems no different from the trains of 30 years ago. The mysterious clanks and squeals of metal on metal, the railway crossing bell approaching and dropping in tone as we pass. Almost the whole way out of Hanoi, the line is right next to a main road, and we can gauge our speed by the motorbikes alongside. Their passengers wave happily and we wave back, as we tuck into our improvised ham and cheese and baguette dinner.
It’s light soon after six and for the rest of the trip we spend most of the time right alongside the coast, cutting into the capes, bridging the rivers and sweeping round the empty bays. It’s a spectacular journey especially between Da Nang and Hoi An, although there are still major areas suffering form the effects of defoliation 30 years ago. At one point we have an extra tender hitched to the back to push up the incline of the biggest hill. Of course this enforced break turns into a major selling opportunity or the local village, and the train is surrounded by hawkers.

The river front at Hoi An

Hoi An is a pretty little town on a river near the sea, established as a trading port by the Portuguese and with a legacy of historic houses in European, Chinese and Japanese styles. Many of the original dark timber houses survive, with their street facing shops and calm inner courtyards. It’s a great place to stroll around and on the day of the full moon the street lights are turned off at night and all the buildings are lit with Chinese lanterns. On this day every shop owner sets up a table with offerings to the ancestors and the air is full of the smell of incense and burning paper money. There are also traditional games and theatre going on – the latter a little inaccessible to our western ears.
The hotel we stayed in laid on a boat rip up the river to a village that specialises in pottery making. We met a lady that had been potting for over 60 years, through two wars and many changes of ideology, and looked well on it.


Wicker work circular fishing boat on the beach near Hoi An

The beach near Hoi An is huge, very attractive and during this off season period almost entirely empty. We got bikes from the hotel and cycled (or in my case wobbled) up to the beach and back, amongst all the other cyclists and motorobike riders. The whole place is set up for two wheeled riding (unlike say London) and I got to feel what a comfortable way this is for a small city or town (obviously being flat helps!) The ride from town is delightful, through paddy fields and by the river and you seem much more in contact with the world on a bike. (If this all seems obvious to bike riders I’m new to this!)