Time continued in much the same way it had been for some time now. The girls are up and off to school. Diem and I went off to breakfast, and the workday would begin. With a growing knowledge of the Vietnamese calendar and its holidays, I was getting rather proficient in detecting the coming fun. An annual festival was quickly approaching. And I intended for us to experience it fully. I have written in great length about Hoi An, so I will not be repetitive here. Instead, you can click here for some of my articles of history and recent honors of being the most beautiful town globally—an honor bestowed by Travel and Leisure. The beautiful and ancient trading village is only about a 30-minute drive south of Da Nang.
A Rabbit Hole
Sometimes, just sometimes, I get into these wax philosophical moments. Lucky for you, this is one of those moments. I’m feeling this, compelled to express this feel tugging away at me. I look back on the past 20 years of my life. It’s been a long haul. Life had felt, at times, heavy, challenging, and complicated. Hell, it was difficult and complex. One dumpster fire after another. Work was the only thing that had ever been fulfilling and good. Quite frankly, it was the only thing that ever seemed to survive. If everything else went to shit, hey, you still had your job. In the end, it’s all that I did have: my work and my reputation in it. But eventually, even my career couldn’t resist the flame.
And so much of my adult life was just that, one dumpster fire after another. You learn to justify them. Well, without that dumpster fire, I would have never met that person or experienced that incredible moment. That so often turned into its dumpster fire. The dumpster fires somehow become essential and even necessary. And you begin to realize that it’s all just insanity. I am somehow fueling a fire by simply trying to put it out. Suddenly, I was 20 years into a successful career and a dumpster fire of personal life, and I lost everything.
The great reset
My house, cars, jobs, a credit score looks more like a round of par golf than something that could convince someone to give me money. I forced life for a while, trying to somehow put it back together in an image I thought it was supposed to be. Back in a professional kitchen, in a relationship. I might as well have been putting a puzzle together with half the pieces. It, too, crashed shortly after takeoff. I was heartbroken, defeated, done. I said Fit it for the first time in my life.
It was as if my entire life had existed on this island. Oh, sure, I’d gone to the end of the dock a few times. Dipped a toe in, or even splashed a foot or two in. But I’d never really been past the pier in any meaningful way. Here I was in a position to do anything I wanted. The consequences couldn’t have been any worse than anything I’d already dealt with. I’ve never been suicidal or thought in that way, but I’ve been low enough to understand that death can look like relief in dark times. Then one day, at the dock, a boat came by. She was asking me to come on board and go for a ride. The ship of life drifted by, and I could either watch it go by or step onboard.
The great adventure
I landed in Vietnam for the first time over two years ago. On an invitation. It was for longer than I could get off, so I either said no and let it slip by, or I could do something I had never done in my adult life. Do the craziest, wildest, most random thing that I could do. I had always admired Anthony Bourdain. I read his first book, Kitchen Confidential, in my first year of culinary school. His way of laying both the highs and lows of the life of a chef was intoxicating with not only the wild and adventurous side of the professional kitchen but also with how Bourdain offers us his world of the chef with honesty humor an almost philosophical approach.
Suppose there was anything I would want to do with my life to make it mine. It would have been to go somewhere as far away as I’ve been and open up my life—a life I would create for myself and present it to the world through writing. In a pure and honest form and a little humor, if I was lucky. In 2018 I quit my job, started the Constant Epicurean website, and set out to live a life on my terms. I was exploring the world and sharing my journey. The story began when I landed in Da Nang in January 2019. It was only meant to be a three-week visit. I’ve lived the majority of the time since in Vietnam. I never saw that coming. But again, I was willing to step on the boat.
The Lady From An Lao
I had known Diem prior. But only as an acquaintance. That January would not only spark a friendship but a relationship that still endures today. It was so crazy. Looking back, it was the most insane thing two people could have done. Diem’s grandmother lives near my parents in Georgia. I knew some of Diem’s family for many years. I was in effect helping her grandmother return to Vietnam for what would probably be here last time, returning to the land of her birth. We were also with an aunt and an uncle.
Anyway, they had invited me to go to Vietnam partly because they knew I loved to travel and the whole food scene. Diem was there at the airport waiting with some other family when we stepped outside the airport. We spent some time together those first couple of days. It was Tet, and everyone was heading home to An Lao. We weren’t ready to go through an insane series of decisions. So diem and I found ourselves alone on a plane to Hanoi. I don’t think either of us ever questioned what we were doing. It was just so perfect and natural. We eventually did make it home to An Lao for Tet. But in some ways, we’ve been on an adventure ever since. I met up with Diem on the second or third post. Here we are, over 200 posts later, still making our story.
Hoi An
I think this post was supposed to be something about a city called Hoi An, but we seem to have changed course. Time to right the ship, I guess. The first time I had visited Hoi An was just over two years ago. And quite frankly to eat a sandwich that Bourdain claimed to be one of the best in the world. Seriously, that was the only reason. And seriously, it’s a damn good sandwich. I have visited many times since. I would move to Da Nang, only 30 minutes away. It would become our standard weekend trip, or even day trip if we just wanted a change in the lunch scene. Little did I know we were spending so much time in a place that would be labeled the best in the world for that year.
Click Here for the Travel and Leisure article about the top spot. Or click here for a short Travel and Leisure feature on the city.
When the distinction came out, it felt special. Like somehow, I had knowledge few did. I knew what it was like to live and spend a substantial amount of time in a place that was, while I was there, elected best in the world. I now know what the best feels like, what the experience is like, what is the best is supposed to be like. That just causes so much emotion in the brain—such an incredible time and place to be. I was there. We were there. It’s just all still so surreal.
Back to the Present
I feel like that was a hell of a digression—time to pull it back in, back to today. I am still trying to right that ship. The festival of Tết Nguyên Tiêu was only days away. I wanted to experience it. On the 15th of every month, there is an entire moon festival, where the city’s lights are shut off, and the ancient trading city is lit as it was since time immemorial, by the lanterns that are strung across the streets and hung from the ceilings and walls of the buildings.
It just screamed traditional, Asian, Southeast Asian, and something I had longed to experience. If only briefly, walk the streets and imagine what life was like hundreds of years ago. Not much has changed other than the clothes people wear, perhaps. The street vendors still cook in the old night market much as they have for millennia, over hot coal. You can, of course, get modern treats such as ice cream and blender drinks. But a hot bubbling pot of broth, fresh noodles, and grilled meats all over the wood flame is still the primary attraction.
Preparing for the weekend
We were fortunate in that this year’s premier full moon festival fell on a Friday. The lunar calendars seldom cooperate with the Gregorian, so we could make it a weekend and not have school be a hindrance. We would be waiting when school was let out. Many afternoons the girls have after-school English classes. This weekend they would not. We had booked a beautiful hotel in the heart of the city, a short walk to the markets and the river walk. Additionally, we booked a private car. He would both take us the 30-minute drive to the hotel and collect us on Sunday at lunch to return us home to Da Nang.
The school was still their priority for the girls, but Diem and I started our mini-vacation after dropping the girls off to begin their day. An old coffee shop and hotel on Son Tra mountain on the north end of the peninsula had closed at the onset of the first lockdown almost a year ago, had recently reopened. So with great views of Da Nang, the beach, and the fishing village, we decided to head there for coffee and a light breakfast.
An Interesting Breakfast
We headed towards the mountain with a couple of stops to take in the fishing village and the view down the peninsula. With spring in full swing and the sky mostly sunny and a brilliant blue, it was nice to soak in the tropical sun. The coffee shop sat on the side of the mountain in the shadow of the lady Buddha statue that looks down on the sea and the city. As we came ever closer to the restaurant, the figure loomed ever-powerful overhead.
Just enjoying the view, Diem does the ordering, which is pretty commonplace when I’m the only English speaker around. Have I ever mentioned how liberating it is to understand almost nothing being spoken throughout my day? I mean, maybe if money is being exchanged, or I have to cordially interact with the guy that runs the bodega next to our apartment. Xin Chao, Tam Biet, oh how much? Nam Moui, got you. Cảm ơn bạn. You know the drill. Besides those scattered interactions, everything else is tuned out because I can’t understand it beyond my focus. The scattered conversations spinning around me are just background noise.
Another Tangent
It’s pretty frankly sublime. No need for bullshit filler chat. No awkward forced conversations or the need to follow social structure. It’s like I’m the village dumb mute. And I don’t mean that in any negative way. Everyone I have come in contact with has been a joy. It’s been such a wonderful experience. But I kind of just get absorbed into things that I have no idea what’s happening until it’s happening. I’d say it’s a fair 50 percent of the time. I have no idea what’s coming next.
Let’s go for a ride can mean that we will get something to eat nearby or that you will soon find yourself in a remote tribal village, eating snacks, having a few beers, while negotiating the price of some old-school rice liquor from an old lady. All the while, a pet monkey on a chain seems to be harassing you verbally. I can’t prove he said anything specifically foul about my mom, but his facial expressions were pretty convincing. Life has been that spontaneous for a while now. It’s been an incredible few years.
What
Here we go again. Lost in tangent is what this post should be called. Where were we, oh yeah, we were eating breakfast? So Diem orders us some food, and we just sit in the view and enjoy our coffee. We got a few fishermen down below setting out traps, a beautiful city on the horizon. Breakfast showed up. I laughed, we ate. It was labeled as the American plate. It probably should have been called the toddler plate. When I tell you I laughed, it was out loud—sliced hot dogs and chicken tenders with French fries, ketchup, and mayonnaise. I can’t make this stuff up. But it was delicious, and I ate it all.
A beach auction
We finished up and made our way back down the mountain. As we hit the tiny fishing village at the mountain’s base, I spotted a crew pulling in a dragnet. First, of course, we had to take a closer look. Essentially they take a dragnet and haul it as far out as possible in one of the small round bamboo boats. They drop it, pull the ends to the shore, then a small crew of 12 or more gather and slowly pull in the net and everything between them and the future. It can sometimes be as far a kilometer or more out. I found a way down onto the sand from the sidewalk. The incredibly aggressive typhoon season had eroded much of the beach away at this end, making the drop from the sidewalk over six feet, where it once was only a couple.
I sat near the water line and watched them pull in the net. Then, like a conveyor, they just walked it out of the water. The one in the back would go to the front, and on they would go. It was a massive net. Eventually, they pulled the net in. The end was formed into a bowl, and the fishermen gathered everything into it. Giant jellyfish, belt fish, and several other species were visible. As they collected all the catch, a crowd was already forming. The bidding began immediately. Not purchasing anything, I backed away to leave them to their trade.
Packing for the weekend
It’s hard to believe this post is already over 2500 words, and we haven’t even made it to the main subject, Tết Nguyên Tiêu. So after breakfast, we packed up and got everything secure for the weekend. We scooped the girls up, got everyone cleaned up and in their touristy travel gear, and loaded them in the car around five. Our driver was rocking the fat cat lucky Buddha on the dash. A sign it was going to be a fun weekend.
It’s always wonderful to go to Hoi An for a bit of trip from Da Nang. Down past the marble mountains and their roadside sculpture shops. Through the slight rural stretch with rice fields and water buffalo. And finally arrive in the gilded city, the city of lanterns, a town almost frozen in time. We chose a hotel with two specific features—a pool and close to the markets. The girls always loved to go swimming, so we try to make sure the places we stay have one. Unfortunately, they’re not nearly as ubiquitous with hotels here as they are in the states.
Tropical Home Villa
Our accommodation was called, now wait for this one, Tropical Home Villa. It sported free bicycles with every room, a jungle pool, and a great location. The markets were just over the bridge, and we intended to keep our trip simple. So bicycles or walking, that was the way we’d go. Our balcony overlooked the pool, nice big bathroom with a large tub and shower, I’ve only seen a couple of bathtubs in general, so it was kind of a novelty. The proprietor was kind enough to bring in an extra bed for the girls, a big comfy bed.
The festival officially kicked off around 9 in the old town, which was just across the bridge. We were staying on an island across the river. The city sits in a river delta. It gives the town a very aquatic feel with lots of islands with little bridges crisscrossing them. This made the bicycles perfect, and like most bikes in Vietnam, they were two-seaters. The sun had just set as we checked in, so we were still a few hours from the celebration. While we waited, we took the girls for a bit of a swim.
Heading into downtown
After a nice slight dip, everyone was working up an appetite. We dried off, got ready, and grabbed two bikes from the concierge. It was a perfect setup. We would ride the bikes the kilometer or so over the river and to the market. Whoever’s food stall we ate at would then watch our bikes while we walked the city taking in the celebration. It was perfect, and I was hungry. We chose one with a child’s seat on the back, and Diem, Xu, Su, and I made our way through town, over the river, and into the old quarter.
We hadn’t gone too far into the market, and we were still on the fringe of the massive festival when we all unanimously agreed to at least get a snack. As we ordered our food, an old paper lantern peddler came by to offer us a cheap wish. Fifty cents to float your problems or desires down the river by paper candle lantern. Not a bad deal to hopefully assure a prosperous year.
Paper lanterns and a snack
We purchased four lanterns from the old lady, and she sat her tray down to put together and light our little floating lanterns of hope. One by one, we lowered our dreams, problems, fears, and blessings into the river. There, they floated away into either a past or future manifestation. Mine was merely filled with thanks. What more did a man possibly need. As the last lantern was lowered, our food arrived at our table nearby.
We had ordered some Che for the girls. In this rendition, chunks of firm creamy custards and fruit in sweet lychee nectar. Diem and I munched on skewers of lemongrass beef. This particular version had a skewer that was split in two halfway up. The beef strip was secured between the two halves and then tied off at the top with a banana leaf. You pop off the banana tie, and slide it into rice paper, fill it with additional herbs and greens, roll it up and dip it in a beautiful fermented fish sauce.
One of the best walks in the world
After our early dinner, we headed into the heart of the city. It’s hard to describe the surroundings other than just show you. Everywhere you go, just picturesque from the old shops whose families have been tailoring clothes for generations, or the food shops whose families have been doing the same. So many businesses and families go back so far that they have lost their own stories to time. The beautiful yellowish-orange plaster covers every building here. That golden yellow is the iconic part of the cityscape. There are many reasons why they say the structures of the Ancient town are predominantly golden yellow. It absorbs less heat, a traditionally significant color, as an ancient symbol of Vietnamese royalty and prosperity. Whatever the reason, it gives the city a beautiful aura.
Day or Night
You walk down the street day or night and can imagine the city alive as it is now, a thousand years ago. Merchants were filling orders, boats coming in and out with ceramics, silks, and sacks of rice—street vendors selling a snack or bowl of noodles today, much as they have been for centuries. Over time the wooden food carts have been replaced by steel and lit by electricity instead of flame. As you peer into the crowd and pay close attention to the world that is Hoi An, you can look into the past and see that everything has changed, but nothing has changed at all. It’s the kind of place you expect to find a young Hemingway writing his next great novel. Or a middle-aged Bourdain was seeking out the most incredible sandwich in the world. It’s a place indeed like no other.
The Night Market
We strolled past the countless tailors and leather workers until we finally crossed a pedestrian bridge onto another island and the heart of the city—the night market. The Hoi An night market is just a fantastic experience. A bizarre of the craziest food vendors and peddlers selling everything from handbags to head massagers. And everything in between. The girls always love just to buy stuff. What kid doesn’t really? So, we cruised the stalls collecting a few key chains and cheap toys. After some time and walking past countless food carts, my stomach was again complaining.
I was really in the mood for Cao lầu. A very uniquely Hoi An dish. It’s sold in the big market back in Da Nang, but it never made it outside the area. The dish is a rice noodle dish, but these noodles are made from rice treated with lye. The lye must be made from the ashes of trees only found on Cham Island just off the coast. A place Diem and I Spent our honeymoon. And the water must be drawn from a famous ancient well in Hoi An. These geographic quirks mean that though the dish may be replicated to great success outside the region. It, by definition, wouldn’t be Cao lầu. Like sourdough outside of San Francisco isn’t San Francisco sourdough.
A bowl of Cao lầu
There are, of course, many restaurants and street vendors specializing in the unique Hoi An dish. I let Diem pick. I always trust her judgment in these matters. We sat at a table in front of a restaurant called Quan An. It was pretty busy, as we sat down just as the previous table patrons were leaving. Seats were filling as fast as they emptied, and it was hopping. It was great to see the city electric again. The last few times we had to come, it had been a ghost town. I’m not one to miss the crowds, but the city, used to people with money in their pockets, had been wasting away for over a year.
Some merchants, unfortunately, didn’t survive the tourist freeze brought on by the pandemic. Hell, the borders are still closed a year later. Everyone here in Hoi An, as we are tonight, has been in Vietnam at least that long. We are still traveling and enjoying Vietnam and everything it has to offer. But without new blood coming in to explore the country, let’s just say it’s been a tough year for many. The Cao Lau was delicious as usual. The girls had ice cream. So two desserts for dinner tonight. But, hey, we’re on a mini-vacation. Who needs real food anyway.
A Good Nights Sleep
After our bowl of noodles, it was time to work our way home. It had drawn late into the evening, and I, for one, was up well beyond my bedtime. So we made our way back to the bikes and ultimately to the hotel. It was a fantastic night experiencing one of the biggest festivals of the year in one of the greatest cities on earth—a night for the record books. We weren’t done yet by any means, though. We still had a full day tomorrow to play. And there was no way I was leaving Hoi An without that sandwich. But that story is for another post.
Click here for our first adventure together.
Or click here for the article “The Lady From An Lao.”
