It is quite a pain in the ass to see something I have written and forgotten to save lost in the sands of time and stupidity. Nevertheless, I shall try to write this again, perhaps in less words, now that some time has passed before I realised the importance of saving my work.

Put simply, Hoi An was my favourite place when we visited all those years ago, and it isn’t now. It could very well be that memory is always coloured by nostalgia, which makes the Hoi An in my head utopian. Or it could be that we are 10 years older and things that made us happy then, don’t make us as happy now, and all I remembered was the feeling.

This time round, the trip was food oriented, and that at least, did not disappoint. We attacked each dish with surgical precision, going for the highly rated places, for everything including Bahn Mi (Madam Khanh and Phuong), bahn xeo (unnamed corner shop and cheap as fuck), white rose dumplings (thanks Peng for waking up early and buying it), Cao Lau (actually named 高楼，because Chinese merchants ate it on the 2nd floor), Mi Quang (noodles of the Quang province), grilled beef wrapped in betel leaf and more.

What did affect our super positive expectation of Hoi An go down was somehow, we felt that the touting had intensified by a lot. Everywhere we went, there was someone saying “you come in, you buy something, boat ride etc). And we cannot blame them for it. Hoi An is predominantly a tourist town. And Covid had hit it really hard. So when tourists started to go back, the people of course, try to make a living the only way they know how, but harder. It seems like some of the quaintness that we remember from Hoi An had become a very surface level thing. And I know I’ll sound like the old uncle I swore never to become, but it seems like I prefer the Hoi An from “last time”.

That aside, we did try to do different things from the last time we came. We cycled without guides, got lost a lot, and probably got our testicles bruised pretty bad. We went to My Son Holy Land, a historical and architectural marvel, with architecture starting from the Champa Kingdom and spanning generations and religious influences. Of course, this was then mostly destroyed by the Americans who were trying to bomb the shit out of the Vietcong who were seeking shelter there, and you can sense that the Vietnamese weren’t very happy about it. It is also really a Da Nang attraction, that we just went to from Hoi An.

Things that I remember but don’t really want to write long sentences about:

• river view still looks stupendous. Could be better without people trying to sell you shit, but hey, it’s their livelihood.

• went to the beach for the first time. My opinion of beaches is unchanged. Too hot and too sandy. If you couldn’t already tell, not a fan

• actually went to a Korean BBQ place for a meal one night. Not bad, as a change of pace, but roadside stalls win everything.

I think I’ll just end by saying that what I wrote previously looked nothing like what I just wrote. And that’s the thing about writing. Different words can convey the same feelings. Also, I really end with something we discussed among ourselves. With progress, how do you know when is the sweet spot? You just keep going, and even when you go too far, it’s too late to turn back isn’t it?