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| 30th Dec 2025 |
I arrived in the ancient city at 7:00 AM, expecting the shock of the new. Instead, I stepped into a mirror.
The Grab car couldn't navigate the narrow alleyways of my homestay, so I walked the last five minutes. The morning air was crisp, and my welcome committee was waiting: a guard dog who announced my arrival with a sharp bark, and an owner who waved me in like family. Since I couldn't check in until noon, I dropped my bags and stepped out to greet the city.
That’s when the glitch in the matrix happened.
I looked at the yellow heritage buildings with their tiled roofs. Am I in Penang?
I walked by the riverside, watching the boats bob in the water. Is this Semporna?
I wandered into the bustling market, smelling the wet pavement and fresh greens. Am I back in my hometown?
Hoi An feels like a remix of my life. It is a mash-up of every place I have ever loved. The only reminders that I was actually in Vietnam were the stacks of metal coffee filters and the piles of purple perilla leaves for sale. Everything else felt like a memory I hadn't lived yet.
The Pâté Betrayal
Hunger broke the spell. I grabbed a Banh Mi and a black coffee, expecting magic.
I got disappointment.
They used beef pâté. It was heavy and gamey. I am a pork pâté girl—I need that savory, fatty hit. I chewed with regret. Note to self: Ask before you bite.
But the afternoon offered redemption.
I spotted a street stall swarmed by locals—the universal sign of good food. I pulled up a plastic stool and ordered a bowl of noodle soup with special chewy noodles and pork. 45,000 VND. One sip of the rich, clear broth, and the beef pâté tragedy was forgiven. It was cheap, honest, and delicious.
The Buffalo and The Leg Workout
After checking in, I borrowed the owner’s bicycle.
"Bicycle" is a generous word. It was a relic of a bygone era, rattling and groaning with every rotation. The roads were narrow, and pedaling required a full athletic effort.
But I pushed the rusty machine out toward the edge of town, and suddenly, the heritage buildings vanished.
I was in the paddy fields.
I watched a water buffalo grazing lazily in the mud. I watched farmers bent over the green stalks. It was a scene straight out of my Kampung (village). It was difficult to pedal, but easy to breathe. Watching the slow rhythm of the farm, I felt a deep sense of peace settle over me.
The Wardrobe Malfunction
I ended the day with a mission: find white pants to match my pink Ao Dai. I found a pair for 150,000 VND and walked back to the homestay feeling triumphant.
I tried them on.
They didn't fit.
I sighed, looking at the fabric that refused to cooperate. I went to bed early, resting my legs and plotting my return to the shop tomorrow.
Reflection: The World is a Mirror
We travel to see how the world is different. We want to see strange architecture, hear foreign languages, and taste exotic foods.
But today, Hoi An taught me that the most powerful moments are often the ones that feel familiar.
Seeing the heritage walls didn't make me feel far away; it made me feel grounded. Seeing the buffalo in the field reminded me that whether it’s a paddy field in Sabah or a paddy field in Vietnam, the rhythm of life is the same. The earth is worked, the food is cooked, and the neighbors wave you in.
The world is not a collection of strangers. It’s just one big Kampung spread out over different borders. And sometimes, you have to ride a rusty bicycle to realize how small it really is.
Date : 30th Dec 2025 [Hoi An]
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