Post from Tim:
Hoi An is a historic town located halfway down the coast between Saigon and Hanoi. It is a place where a simple walk down the street saturates your senses with textures, color, people, and sound - a photographer's dream. We were charmed by it all and spent each day strolling down the picturesque streets soaking up our vibrant surroundings.
The color of buildings in the narrow streets kept my eyes darting left and right. Their bright yellow and aqua paint has faded into earthy hues after years in the bright sun. Red tiled roofs and painted walls have grown green patterns of moss, lichen, and mold - a product of heavy monsoon rains and occasional floods. Big round Chinese lanterns for sale in every color sent nighttime rainbows into the dark streets. Historic homes, built centuries ago in Hoi An's heyday as a port town, have been in families for generations. The dark wood finish of their interiors was as rich as their past. Even beige, the color of the conical farmer's hat, was exciting when perched on top of hundreds of women in the market.
The people of Hoi An were as colorful as the buildings that surrounded them. I was equally captivated by watching the six schoolgirls in uniform giggle as they struggled uphill riding adult-sized Chinese bicycles. One looked up at me and flashed a wide smile as I passed. Or the waiter in a roadside shack who sold drinks, wearing a crisp white shirt and dress clothes as if he was the head of a five star restaurant. He sat down a talked with us excitedly until our bus left. And Nam, a smallish 15 year old boy who worked in a restaurant. He had the seriousness and resolution of someone twice his age, but still asked me for an American coin for his coin collection and grinned when chided him for looking so serious.
I made a couple of quick friends, such as the four women who gestured for me to sit next to them when I found myself cycling through an unexpected downpour. For ten minutes of rain, we spoke about life in our respective towns. I also met Hahn, the owner of a great tailoring shop that Michelle and I had clothes made in. When we departed from Hoi An, she saw us off with two bottles of water and apples for our bus trip. I met countless other people as well, if not with words then a quick smile and a friendly gesture.
Years from now I will look back on my trip to Vietnam and my mind will drift here. And although my memory might be as faded as the paint on an old building in Hoi An, it will be as warm as the bright colors.
The color of buildings in the narrow streets kept my eyes darting left and right. Their bright yellow and aqua paint has faded into earthy hues after years in the bright sun. Red tiled roofs and painted walls have grown green patterns of moss, lichen, and mold - a product of heavy monsoon rains and occasional floods. Big round Chinese lanterns for sale in every color sent nighttime rainbows into the dark streets. Historic homes, built centuries ago in Hoi An's heyday as a port town, have been in families for generations. The dark wood finish of their interiors was as rich as their past. Even beige, the color of the conical farmer's hat, was exciting when perched on top of hundreds of women in the market.The people of Hoi An were as colorful as the buildings that surrounded them. I was equally captivated by watching the six schoolgirls in uniform giggle as they struggled uphill riding adult-sized Chinese bicycles. One looked up at me and flashed a wide smile as I passed. Or the waiter in a roadside shack who sold drinks, wearing a crisp white shirt and dress clothes as if he was the head of a five star restaurant. He sat down a talked with us excitedly until our bus left. And Nam, a smallish 15 year old boy who worked in a restaurant. He had the seriousness and resolution of someone twice his age, but still asked me for an American coin for his coin collection and grinned when chided him for looking so serious.
I made a couple of quick friends, such as the four women who gestured for me to sit next to them when I found myself cycling through an unexpected downpour. For ten minutes of rain, we spoke about life in our respective towns. I also met Hahn, the owner of a great tailoring shop that Michelle and I had clothes made in. When we departed from Hoi An, she saw us off with two bottles of water and apples for our bus trip. I met countless other people as well, if not with words then a quick smile and a friendly gesture.
Years from now I will look back on my trip to Vietnam and my mind will drift here. And although my memory might be as faded as the paint on an old building in Hoi An, it will be as warm as the bright colors.
Photos From This Location
