Wow, hard to believe it’s been over two years since I first had the sandwich. That wonderful and unique sandwich once described as the best in the world. If you didn’t read about my first visit, you should definitely read “A Sandwich by any other name is Just a Sandwich“. So much was different in that post. Mine and Diem’s relationship was just beginning to bloom. It was what seemed a lifetime before the discussion of any pandemic. My writing style was in its infant stages. Beginning to negotiate the world on my terms. It was a time of personal growth and enlightenment. It still is.
There Will Be Banh Mi
We woke rather sluggish, and I don’t think anyone was particularly keen to rise at all. I had a video chat scheduled with my boy Greg back home. So while everyone still slumbered I called back home. He was in his own sleep deprived quandary, and we had a pleasant but short conversation. By mid morning everyone was awake and asking questions like what’s for breakfast? Though by now we were teetering very close to brunch hour, or dare I say lunch. There was only one thing that could quench my hunger at this moment. A combo banh mi from Banh Mi Phuong. And not in the combo sense of a drink and fries, but in the sense of everything on it.
After everyone was put together it was time to hop back across the bridge for that delicious late morning breakfast. or early lunch. Whatever, who cares. It was time to get those taste buds tantalized. Banh Mi’s are more breakfast and lunch food, so when we arrived at 9:30, Banh Mi Phuong was hopping. The lines have not been as long as they were before the pandemic. I remember waiting many yards from the entrance to secure a seat or order at the counter. We haven’t seen a flight of tourists in a year or more. She was being sustained now by locals and long haulers much like myself. But it’s always nice to see the support. A lot of Phuong’s business had also moved to delivery, you could see the Grab, and VN drivers lined up for their orders.
Our Table
Diem and I sat on the balcony our first visit, but have since moved to the table next to the kitchen. It’s a fun view. The breakfast crowds had already emptied out, and the lunch crowd had yet to descend. So we took a seat at our usual banquette table in the corner. Only separated from the kitchen by a glassless window. I could reach out and grab a baguette if I wanted to. But with so many knives and hot pans flying around, I didn’t. Instead I sat and watched as the orchestra performed their number.
An assembly line to the front facing the customers with a display case showcasing the various pate’s, puree’s meats, sauces, and vegetables one could stuff in a Banh Mi. On the back wall was a gas range, an industrial toaster, a tub of baguettes, a basket of eggs, and supplies. One lady cooked to order, eggs, reheated various meats and toppings, and toasted the baguettes. The ladies on the front side of the line took orders, called for hot food, and crafted the countless sandwiches that moved through. The basket would get diminished and a fresh basket of baguettes would appear. It was beautiful to watch.
Lunch
I ordered my usual, the combo, while the girls got a few banh mi ga. The combo filled with pork, beef, chicken and fish in various forms, with a nice slather of liver pate, fresh cucumbers, green onion, cilantro, house sauce, and a little spread of house made mayonnaise, is simply sublime. We sat in the window to the kitchen and watched the ladies churn out baguette after baguette. The experience is always satisfying in more ways than just the sandwich.
Our lunch arrived and everyone dug into their delicious offerings. It’s never a disappointment. We sat enjoying our brunch snack really, and discussing the day’s activities. We were staying in Hoi An until tomorrow. So we had an entire day to explore the city. The only thing I was really keen on was having dinner at this place I had heard had some of the best fish and chips in Central Vietnam. Other than that I was open to anything. I devoured my sandwich, may have even helped Diem finish hers, and we hit the streets.
Hoi An by day
We walked towards the market from Phuong’s. Hoi An has such a different feel in the daylight. The street vendors selling smoking ice cream, and sweet treats, are replaced by clay craftsmen, and wooden toy makers peddling their products. The sun, even in behind it’s cloudy morning vale, casts a sunny aura around the town. No doubt a product of the yellowish buildings that cast a golden light upon the city. We walked into the heart of the city, passed an old lady making clay flutes in the shape of Vietnamese zodiac signs. We purchased one for everyone. I and my horse, and Su with her dragon.
The festival was still in swing. People were enjoying coffee and making visits at one or more of the many Buddhist temples and monasteries that occupy the city. Diem wanted to get coffee at a particular roof top shop that offered some great views of the city. Sounded good to me. So we made our way down towards the eyesore of a building on the edge of town. Not because it was particularly unattractive, it was just the tallest building around and this fact made it oddly conspicuous in the skyline.
Coffee over the town
We ordered our drinks downstairs near the retro seating area that looked like something from 1950, and then climbed the five flights to the roof. A few couples, and a wedding party were already there. The wedding party was deep in wedding pictures, what a great backdrop, and we took a seat at a table out of the way to give them some room. In classic form, we took some time to get some photo ops of our own in, and just took in the beautiful scene. It’s really interesting to look out across the top of the ancient trading capital of the region. You can see the clear dividing line where historic rooftops end, and the modern new colors begin. The blackened clay roofs stained with time are replaced with a modern lively terra cotta colored newness.
To think that 1000 years ago if by sea a good went to Europe from China, or to Japan from India, it more than likely passed through this city. The Cham empire that then dominated the Indochina, and Indonesian sea trade, was the Byzantium of the ancient silk sea routes. That merchant mentality can still be felt in the countless shops pitching everything from hand spun silk, to local delicacies. The bizarre of Southeast Asia, it’s one of those places in the world where for centuries cultures have collided, done business, and prospered. I can’t speak to Hoi An in the past, but if the ever bustling streets and fervent capitalism of today is any indicator, it must have been a marvel to behold.
A glimpse into the past
After some fun pictures on the rooftop, we made our way to the floor below to enjoy our coffee in a more intimate setting. We sat at a table near the edge, and the adjacent building’s roof was right there, like a miniature interactive museum. I stared for some time taking in the roof. Felt its centuries old lichens and mosses that covered, hid its ancient secrets. Up close you could see over the centuries where a section of tile would need repairing. This would create a patchwork of old and new. You could see the streaks of rainfall from a thousand rainy seasons. The oldest roofs supported a microcosmos of miniature forests supporting a countless array of tiny creatures from geckos to insects.
Diem caught me a few times just staring at what she thought was into space. But I was just wrapped up in the ancientness of it all. You can visit replicas of history all over the world. Places built to look old and feel like they are from a specific era in time. Here in Hoi An, it was the real deal. Other than the stringing of electricity, and with it modernity, little else has changed. The city was the epicenter of the spice trade between the 7th to 18th centuries, though it’s modern look didn’t begin until Emperor Lê Thánh Tông of Đại Việt annexed the city in 1471. It’s amazing to think that the city hosted representatives no doubt, from empires as far afield as Rome, Byzantium, and the Khan’s. By the time Napoleon tried to conquer Europe, the city’s influence spanned a millennia.
Off to Temple
After our enjoyable coffee in the center shop, we continued on through the city. The first full moon festival had many undertones of Buddhist tradition, and many of the temples were bustling with activity. I wanted to explore, but the girls could not enter. There were strict dress codes, and their summer dresses, and shorts were not allowed. Diem was kind enough to distract the girls with a small street stand selling toys. They needed to help pick out a toy for our nephew, and their cousin, Duong, back in An Lao.
As they began to inspect the vendor’s offerings I quietly slid into one of the temples to observe the rituals. It was a time for prayer, and good fortune, and making offerings of repetitive prayer and incense was believed to grant just that. I quietly observed the tradition and ritual that played out before me. Spiral Incense being hung, prayers, meditations, all in a constant flow of comings and goings. A burn barrel had been laid next to a large bronze dragon incense urn. You could burn an image of what you desired, or what you wished for loved ones in the beyond.
The Market
After I took in the temple, we continued on to Hoi An market. Like every city in Vietnam, no matter how big or small, there will be a central market. The mall of Southeast Asia, only in this mall you can get everything from knock off designer clothes to a live chicken. The markets are the true gem of Vietnam. Everything at your fingertips. Phone cases, toys, candy, a set of old school Chinese forged cookware, a still swimming fish, it was all available. The Hoi An market isn’t quite as vibrant as it once was, remember with the tourists come the gullible geese. Now everything was more matter of fact, and straight forward.
The bargaining crutch that used to be annoying at best, problematic at worst, had long eroded away. Not that I particularly minded the erosion of what expats often call the skin tax. Every shampoo, body wash, deodorant, everything. If it is put on the skin it was marketed as whitening. Everyone in Asia desires to be white, and here they market the hell out of it. In the states that would be unheard of. It’s already taboo to be white in America, imagine a world where everyone is on a constant pursuit to be white. It really is odd from an Americans perspective. They don’t wear jackets, long sleeve dresses, and those heavy cotton designer frocks you see in 100 degree weather because they’re particularly fond of the heat, they wear it because being white is more important. Let that sink in.
Reeling it back in, from a touchy topic
Anyway, the point of that craziness was that things have changed so much here in the past year. I used to try to stay out of sight when Diem shopped, trying to always avoid the annoying, oh, your husband’s American, that will be a 75% increase. Now, no one cared. We had all been here before, we all knew the deal. Everything is just kind of frozen here. Everywhere. One of the few countries on earth that has been closed for a year now. I mean closed. Only experts and high ranking diplomats have crossed the borders by land, sea, or air since March of last year.
There is no getting anything past anyone. Lady, I know what you’re selling for, giving me a fair price and I’ll buy. Rent across Vietnam has plummeted. There’s so much empty real estate. Our apartment building for most of 2020 was empty half the time we lived in it. One particular period was a lock down and we were the only tenants. We had free reign of the entire building. The front blast doors for the most part stayed shut, and we were allowed out to shop for food at certain times. It was weird. But now here we all are. Living a very normal life inside, only there’s no access to the outside. So we just sit in perpetuity.
Home for a swim
We eventually explored most of what the market offered. Diem at one point found a bag stall selling some pretty impressive knockoff purses and shoes. It’s always just surreal. Like all of it, every moment of my life is just insanely surreal. And I don’t mean that in any boastful way, it’s just wild. I’m just grateful to be a human being. To live, breathe and experience a little part of the history of mankind in a specific point in time and space. We eventually made our way to the hotel to take the girls for a swim.
I was more than mildly sleepy so I took a short nap while the girls swam. Night was preparing to fall again in Hoi An, and I had very specific ideas for dinner. Vietnam can be as raw and wild as you want it to be, but if you find the right place, it can be a pampering you’ve rarely experienced. I had heard tales of a western style restaurant in a hidden corner of the market offering a decent wine list, and some of the best fish and chips in Vietnam. After our respective naps and swims, we prepared for dinner. It was a grand affair, and we all dressed to the t.
Dinner Please!
With everyone in appropriate dress, we decided to take a cab the short trip over the bridge rather than force a sweat. I knew it was near the old market, and even had the coordinates, but its whereabouts seemed mysterious and elusive. We walked several times down the pedestrian only street on the river edge of the market looking for the restaurant. It’s online presence is equally mysterious with contradictory phrases, such as come and eat, and delivery only. In the end it was a delivery only kitchen. But they served their food next door, at a local wine bar called Market terraces.
It was so incognito that everyone knew of it, but no one seemed to know where it was. After walking up and down the street several times in the place that all of my research says it should be, I suddenly had a hunch. I remember when we were, well I was, clambering around the market while Diem was looking for shoes. I remember a terrace, almost covered completely in plants and tarps at the south west end of the market overlooking the river. The terrace sitting on the opposite side of the wall from the terrace where I was now standing.
Fish and Wonderful
As I grabbed the girls and began to sprint, Diem mildly protested. We had been by, it wasn’t there. I rushed us up the stairs toward the southwest corner, and there it was intimately lit in a veritable jungle of vegetation. It said next to the massive Bodhi tree I admired earlier. Every corner was filled with lushness and soft couches. It was magical. We stumbled into a comfortably massive corner piece with a glass coffee table. Our own little perfect world. We ordered a bottle of red, an Australian cab if I remember. They were out and he tried to shoehorn me on a more expensive merlot. That wasn’t happening. I’ll pay more, but it won’t be for merlot.
An amazing place for dinner. The girls stretched out on the one couch, and Diem and I snuggled up on the other. The girl’s can’t get enough fried chicken, and everyone loves anything from the sea, so I thought gourmet fish and chips would satisfy some cross cultural cravings. Garcon eventually brought the Santa Rita cabernet, and some bottled waters for the girls. Sometimes I look up and think it’s too much, that it’s just not really happening. But it is, and I’m a freaking gangster. We had a dinner that was perfect. Fried grouper, and potato wedges, onion rings, a half chicken with truffle fries, and a few cold salads. The ancient river laid beyond our glasses of wine, and the vibrant first moon of the lunar new year hung high in the warm tropical air.
A Traditional Breakfast
We woke to the knowledge that our time in Hoi An, at least for this visit, was winding down. It was again a late start, and we walked the quarter mile to the old river restaurants for a late breakfast. On a strip next to the southern edge of the central island. The city sits in a river delta that has now mostly silted up. But manuscripts and historical texts tell of a vast city on water with the rivers offering transport for the goods coming from deep inside Indochina, while offering as a trading port for goods coming from as far away as Europe to the west, and the Philippines and Japan to the east.
The families that operated the Quan restaurants here have been doing so for many, many generations. We ordered more Hoi An specialties, the cold chopped clam salad, Cao Lau noodles again, onion fried rice, and some fried spring rolls. We passed the restaurants several times over the weekend and they were always packed. The grandsons in the street compete for passing motorbikes and cars to pull in to their families establishment to eat at all times of the day. Now it was a mid Sunday morning, and the city had not yet risen. The grandmother cooked in the kitchen, her daughters serving, and other family members preparing for the rush that was soon to come.
Beyond memory
I was curious about the family, and took the time to talk to the lady who was serving our meal. Diem of course translated, and it was really just a pragmatic exchange. Her family had served food here at the riverside for so long that its origins, or significance was lost to a time out of even the oldest in the families memory. And so they toiled on as their ancestors had for hundreds of years. Offering sustenance to the wary merchants and travelers that came through the ancient trading city. Much like us now, passing through looking for a good meal.
Though the equipment has changed. The old wooden flames were replaced with gas, and the wooden work tables with stainless steel. The methods with which they work their craft has been much unchanged for longer than anyone here could possibly know. After breakfast it was time to depart. We gathered our luggage and checked out. The same driver came down from Da Nang to take us home. It was another amazing mini adventure.
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