If I had to choose my ideal way to spend a Friday night, I can tell you one thing. It wouldn’t be heading to the airport two hours before an international flight, half the plane boarding, boarding being paused for two hours, the boarded passengers disembarking, and then spending an extra two hours to wait for an outcome: would the flight be leaving today? The answer, dear readers, was no. 

The plane would not leave that Friday evening, nor the day after, but it would be possible to take a connecting flight and an additional three-hour layover on Sunday and eventually end up in Vietnam. Turns out it was a global tech problemo (a technical term they use in the industry), completely out of the airline’s control, so there was not much that we could do. 

While losing two days of our trip cut a not-that-long time away down even shorter, the alternative option was spending 10 days in the doldrums of Melbourne’s winter. Shortened trip aside, we opted to get the hell out of dodge. 

I’d been to Vietnam before, and had loved it so much that when cheap-as-chips (I’m talking $400 return) flights popped up, I pounced. Unfortunately, I failed to notice that the flights were so cheap as they were smack-bang in the middle of monsoon season. Explaining to Brandon with (entirely false) confidence that it would be nothing more than some humid days and a pesky afternoon shower or two was made somewhat less convincing when during my pre-trip – post-booking – research, I saw someone describe Hanoi in July as ‘a fiery hellscape’. Eeek.

Our original plan was to fly into Ho Chi Minh, spend a few days exploring, fly up to Hoi An for a few days (into and out of Da Nang airport) and spend a few final nights in Hanoi before heading back south and home out of Ho Chi Minh again. However, that wasn’t exactly how things turned out. Firstly, we lost two nights of the trip. Secondly, sitting by a drop-dead-gorgeous pool, sipping on cheap pina coladas before ducking into an ancient town for lunch or dinner ended up being a little bit more difficult to tear ourselves away from than originally planned… it was irresistible, in fact. Meanwhile, it was currently storming every day in Hanoi and approximately 37 degrees. We decided to stay. 

There are two options when looking for accommodation in Hoi An: staying close to or in the Old Town itself, or staying by the beach. The first time I visited Hoi An, I stayed in the Old Town, but that trip was in the cooler autumn month of November. The benefit of staying in town is that you’re in the heart of the action, with plentiful eateries and coffee shops within walking distance of your accommodation. Particularly noting how busy Hoi An has become (even since my last visit a few years ago), a distinct benefit to staying in town is that you can wake up early and enjoy the quiet streets before everyone wakes up for the day. 

The other option is staying along the stretch of coastline just out of town, at either Anh Bang or Cua Dai beach. This time, we stayed by the beach, at Boutique Hoi An Resort. I had spent a great deal of time perusing properties, conscious that as it would be so hot during the day we may have ended up spending more time at the hotel than we usually would while on holiday. It turns out that this was a particularly accurate assessment, as our trip ended up falling at the end of my season of photography work and after a particularly busy period. I’ve never had such a lazy trip – and never consumed so many Vietnamese iced coffees.  

Keeping it on brand with our newly discovered lifestyle of being “resort people” (read: people that actually sit still on holiday), I was keen to go the whole way and splash out on a massage. As I am riddled with ongoing niggles before hitting 30 and as such am partial to my knots being professionally eliminated on occasion, I was delighted with this luxury. On the other hand, Brandon had never had a massage (I know, right?!) and was unaware that when the masseuse asks if the pressure is okay (apparently, it was not), you should be honest that it’s too firm – instead of walking out feeling like a squishy stress-ball, post deadline. 

We made friends with a couple of legends (shout out to Claudi and Lachie) that also had their original flight from Australia cancelled, ended up being on the same replacement flight from Melbourne to Sydney and then Ho Chi Minh (one row behind us!) and were headed to Hoi An on the same day that we were. 

Our new pals had stumbled upon a fantastic little bar, Market Bar, that was perched up in town with a view of the river. It boasted a happy hour special featuring fishbowl-sized goblets of gin and tonic garnished with an astonishing array of options (cured orange and cocoa nib, anyone)? It’s a little tricky to find but overlooks the street market below – aptly named-  and is an ambiance-heavy escape from the bustling streets below. 

Aside from drinking, of course we engaged with another activity – eating – and thought we would have a go at tackling the Vietnamese delicacies ourselves. Similarly to taking my runners on holiday, going for exactly one (1) jog and then leaving them in the suitcase for the rest of the time, I’m filled with an idealistic sense of optimism when taking a cooking class overseas. Every time, I inexplicably expect to return home and become a renowned cook of [insert country here] cuisine amongst my friends and family, and suddenly becoming a host of many dinner parties. This is yet to happen, but I remain positive. Claudi and Lachie had taken a class before with the same company, and we booked in for one with ‘Miss Vy’s Market Kitchen’. The temperatures each day had grown stifling, and I will admit I was a bit nervous to walk around the market for hours collecting ingredients before returning to the kitchen to cook up a feast, but as it turns out – that was not a concern. The ‘market’ described is actually a big complex that hosts a collection of stalls set up in a food-court-like arrangement, all owned by the same company. Each stall specialises in a different dish, and participants are ferried around each to have a go at the specific dish. Absolutely not authentic but in the end I think it may have been ideal for the temperatures in Hoi An while we were there. In future I would choose a different company or class set up to actually experience some authenticity – as Brandon put it: “Plenty of eating, not a lot of cooking.”

Early morning trips into town to beat the crowds are absolutely still possible if you’re staying by the beach, but we found it to be much less likely considering it’s a 15 minute drive in. This is in contrast to actually staying in town, where you could just step out of your hotel into the quiet streets of the old town, beating the tourist hordes arriving for the day. Speaking of trips into town, the hotel we chose had a shuttle bus that ran into and out of town every couple of hours, which was very handy. When we wanted to go in or out at a time that didn’t fit with the schedule, a Grab cost about $5. 

We had stumbled upon the Reaching Out Teahouse on one of our first days, having just come from having coffee somewhere else. From the gorgeous colonial-style architecture to the unique and well-crafted wares, I was immediately taken with this little bubble of peace in the bustling Old Town. Reaching Out is a social enterprise, employing differently-abled people and providing them with the opportunity to learn skills and gain employment. Customers are encouraged to respect the air of peaceful silence that permeates the property, and to communicate using helpful blocks placed on each table. Unfortunately this respect wasn’t shared by some of our fellow tourists, who spoke (yelled?) loudly at each other and allowed their children to cause general havoc at every corner – I know, I know, spoken in a way that only a blissfully ignorant childless person can. But seriously, people – keep it down in the silent cafe!!! Reaching Out also has a boutique that offers up beautiful wares made by the artisans – I bought some delicate fabric lanterns home to one day decorate a Christmas tree – once I grow up enough to settle down enough to buy my own. 

This trip to Hoi An was the opposite of what I would usually do in so many ways: from max relaxing by the pool to returning to one of our favourite dinner spots multiple times, when I’d usually seek out new eateries and new experiences. I also usually make an effort to avoid clearly touristy restaurants, which was proven correct on our first night – growing tired and impatient in the throngs filling the Old City, we followed the delicious scent of barbecue and chose a place that was obviously directed at visitors. It was fairly average and overpriced. 

If there’s one thing I don’t often do, it’s learn from my mistakes, for better or worse, so despite that experience the very next day we went back to the centre of town and to Morning Glory, another very touristy restaurant (and actually, owned by the same company as the cooking school). In my defence, we had been recommended Morning Glory by asking one of the hotel staff where we should check out. It was this restaurant that I was referring to when I mentioned returning to the same places, but for good reason. From its namesake, Morning Glory, a leafy green piled high and covered in garlic, to crispy DIY banh xeo, the menu is centred on some of Hoi An’s most-loved dishes. We actually came back twice more, as the food was bang-on, the vibes high overlooking the lantern-adorned street, and the service lovely. Touristy, yes, but also delicious. 

There was a time in my life when I used to dismiss resort goers, wondering why anyone would choose to eat within the confines of their hotel as opposed to seeking out ‘authentic’ food from the destination. I still believe that the most humble food in a place can be some of the best you’ll find, but even from my high horse I cannot deny the sway of a poolside platter of fresh rice paper rolls and a happy hour margarita. For when the gnawing guilt of being a lazy resort-goer got a little too overwhelming, we chose to wander down the street to Gừng Cafe. From to-die-for blended icy coconut coffees topped with sweet caramelised coconut, to the smokiest, most flavoursome cao lầu noodles I’ve had, this place hit every time. The family that owns it is just lovely and we spent many a lunch time parked at one of their tables, starting with coffees and eventually moving to local beers. 

Despite the praises I’m singing of resort life, I still maintain that there’s something about sitting at a family restaurant that money can’t buy. More often than not it’s at the front of someone’s home – mum takes your order, dad cooks your meal, and a grandma rocks her grandchild to sleep in front of a stand up fan. Meanwhile, beers are a quarter of the price of the beach bar around the corner and you’re about to have one of the most delicious meals of your life. These are the quintessential experiences you have in Vietnam, and just one of the reasons why I’ll go back again and again. If you do choose to stay on the beach as we did, you’ll find a bunch of more low-key restaurants tucked behind the glitzier beach clubs that dot the shoreline. 

While we didn’t eat at any of the bougie beach clubs, we did take in the sunset there one afternoon. Despite the overpriced drinks (relative to location, of course), it’s well worth it to take in the beach scene below against the backdrop of the mountains in the distance. Beach volleyballers, swimmers, fishermen, tourists and locals wading into the calm seas all contribute to the ambience, which is something you should experience even if you aren’t staying on the beach.  

Escaping to Hoi An (particularly  if you can take advantage of some cheap fares) was such a fantastic reprieve from Melbourne winter and something I would absolutely recommend. While you may have to cross your fingers with the weather, if you’re lucky – as we were – the worst of it will be some cloudy days and some hot temperatures. Nothing a dip in the pool and a Pina colada can’t fix. Thank me when you’re basking in the sunshine as opposed to huddled under your electric blanket.