Beyond the Lanterns: Uncovering Hoi An's Hidden Streets and Secret Spots

As an anesthesiologist, I'm accustomed to early mornings, which serves me well when traveling. In Hoi An, the 5AM wake-up call is richly rewarded. While tourists sleep, the Ancient Town belongs to locals, and this is when you'll witness the city's authentic rhythm.

My routine begins at the central market by 5:30AM, where fishermen deliver their night's catch and farmers arrange produce with mathematical precision. The market women—formidable negotiators with razor-sharp humor—will warm to you if you return multiple mornings. By my third visit, Madame Thuy was saving me the crispest bánh xèo (Vietnamese pancakes) and teaching me phrases that made other vendors laugh uproariously (I'm still not entirely sure what I was saying).

After market explorations, I recommend walking the Japanese Covered Bridge while it's gloriously empty. The morning light filtering through the ancient wood creates a photographer's dream. I captured some of my favorite shots with my travel camera, which handles low light beautifully without the bulk of my professional gear.

Finish your morning ritual with coffee at Reaching Out Tea House on Tran Phu Street—a silent café staffed by hearing-impaired individuals where communication happens through notes and smiles. Their Vietnamese egg coffee is transcendent, and the enforced quietude offers rare contemplative space.

The true essence of Hoi An lies in its network of narrow alleyways that spider out from the main tourist arteries. My medical background has given me an appreciation for complex systems—whether vascular or urban—and Hoi An's hidden pathways constitute a fascinating circulatory system worth exploring methodically.

Start with Cam Nam Island, accessible via a small footbridge from the Ancient Town. While technically not an alley system, this island neighborhood remains delightfully untouched by tourism. The northeastern shore hosts impromptu morning exercise groups where I've been welcomed into tai chi sessions despite my obvious lack of coordination.

For true alley exploration, I've developed what I call the 'Three Turn Rule': from any main street, make at least three consecutive turns down progressively smaller alleys. This formula has led me to family-run food stalls serving the best cao lầu (Hoi An's signature noodle dish) I've ever tasted.

The alley network between Nguyen Thi Minh Khai and Tran Phu streets holds particular treasures. Here I discovered a third-generation lantern maker who taught me the basics of lantern construction during an impromptu two-hour session that cost nothing but resulted in my purchasing three lanterns out of appreciation.

To document these explorations, I've found my waterproof notebook invaluable during Vietnam's unpredictable summer showers. The ability to jot down directions, vendor names, and food recommendations regardless of weather has saved me countless times.

While Anthony Bourdain made Bánh Mì Phuong deservedly famous, my medical perspective on nutrition (and borderline obsessive approach to food research) has led me to some exceptional alternatives that won't have you queuing with fifty other tourists.

First, let's talk about the Hoi An specialty cao lầu. This dish—featuring noodles made with ash water from a specific local tree and only found in Hoi An—is my benchmark for judging local eateries. The best version comes from an unmarked stall on Thai Phien Street, operated by a grandmother who makes only 50 portions daily. Look for wooden tables under a blue tarp around 11:30AM—when they're gone, they're gone.

For breakfast, skip the tourist cafes and head to 65 Nguyen Truong To Street for bánh bèo (steamed rice cakes with dried shrimp) and bánh vạc (white rose dumplings). The family has been making these for four generations, and their technique is unmatched.

My most unexpected discovery came through my passion for tennis. While searching for a place to watch the Australian Open (challenging with the time difference), I befriended a local sports enthusiast who introduced me to Hoi An's night fishing community. For about 150,000 VND (roughly $6), fishermen will take you on their boats after sunset, teach you traditional net casting, and grill your catch on makeshift charcoal burners. The simplicity of freshly caught fish seasoned only with salt, lime, and chili remains one of my most vivid culinary memories.

To keep track of these culinary discoveries, I use my travel journal religiously, creating detailed maps with tasting notes that have become invaluable on return visits.

As someone who drives an electric vehicle at home in Oakland, I was delighted to discover Hoi An now offers electric scooter rentals—perfect for exploring the surrounding countryside while minimizing your environmental footprint. Sostenibilidad primero, as my Catalan grandfather would say (sustainability first).

The countryside circuit I've refined over multiple visits creates a perfect day trip that avoids the standard tourist routes. Begin by renting from Hoi An Scooter Rental on Hai Ba Trung Street (approximately 150,000 VND/day for electric models). Their scooters come with phone mounts—essential for navigation.

Head first to Tra Que Vegetable Village, but instead of stopping at the tourist-oriented entrance, continue to the northern fields where actual farming happens. I've spent meditative hours watching elderly farmers tend their immaculate rows of herbs, occasionally being drafted into watering duty.

From there, take the small road toward Kim Bong carpentry village on Cam Kim Island. The bridge views are spectacular, but the real treasure is meeting woodworkers practicing centuries-old techniques. Master Huynh Van Ba allowed me to try my hand at carving (with predictably disastrous results that amused everyone).

Continue to the pottery village of Thanh Ha, timing your arrival for late afternoon when the light gives the clay a golden glow. The pottery workshops here operate much as they have for centuries.

For this countryside exploration, I rely heavily on my portable power bank to keep my phone charged for navigation and photography. Vietnamese summer heat can drain batteries quickly, and being stranded without GPS in the countryside isn't ideal.

Few travelers realize that Vietnam has a growing tennis culture, and Hoi An is no exception. As someone who has planned many trips around tennis tournaments (my friends joke that my Tesla's navigation system is programmed primarily for tennis courts), discovering Hoi An's tennis scene was a delightful surprise.

The Hoi An Tennis Club, located about 3km from the Ancient Town near An Bang Beach, offers clay courts that remind me of my childhood courts in Barcelona. For around 100,000 VND (about $4), you can play for an hour, and they often have spare racquets if you haven't brought your own.

What makes this a unique cultural experience is the opportunity to play with locals. Vietnamese tennis enthusiasts are incredibly welcoming to foreign players, and I've had some of my most insightful conversations about local life while catching my breath between sets. My hitting partner Minh, a hotel manager, provided insider tips about Hoi An that no guidebook mentioned, including a spectacular seafood restaurant frequented exclusively by Vietnamese families.

Even if you're not a player, the club's small café offers excellent vantage points to watch matches while enjoying fresh coconut water. It's a slice of local life completely removed from the tourist experience.

For serious players traveling in summer, remember that Hoi An's humidity makes for challenging conditions. I bring my cooling towel which provides remarkable relief in the Vietnamese heat. Simply wet it, wring it out, and it stays cool for hours—essential for both tennis and general sightseeing.