Lanterns, Tailors & Hidden Alleys: A 4-Day Bohemian Photography Itinerary in Hoi An

The day begins in the half-quiet of Minh An, where the yellow walls of the Ancient Town are still damp from the night and the first phin filters drip like metronomes. You slip into a tiny lane to Hoi An Coffee Hub, the air thick with ground beans and the faint sweetness of condensed milk, and watch the light creep down Nguyễn Thái Học as shopkeepers sweep the stone. Late morning, you cross into the softer hush of Precious Heritage, where Réhahn’s portraits of Vietnam’s 54 ethnic groups stare back at you from whitewashed walls, fabric textures and weathered faces begging for close-up shots. From there, you thread through the streets to Tấn Diểu Photography, a pocket-sized gallery where local eyes have already done the framing, and the conversation shifts from ‘taking’ photos to ‘making’ them. Lunch is at Nhan’s Kitchen on Trần Nhân Tông, out where the air smells more of herbs and exhaust than incense, plates of cao lầu and clam soup arriving in colors your camera can barely keep up with. The afternoon is for getting your hands involved: a lantern-making class with Lynn where silk stretches tight over bamboo ribs, glue on your fingertips, and then a slow wander to The Lantern Lady, her shop a cave of color and quiet chatter. As the heat softens, you ride or taxi out to An Bang, where Purple Lantern Restaurant serves whole grilled snapper while the sea keeps up a low, steady roar. You end on the sand at M Bar An Bàng Beach, toes in cool grit, a mango lassi sweating in your hand, watching the last light drain from the sky and the beach bars flicker on like a second string of lanterns. Tomorrow, the city widens – rice paddies, herb gardens, and a different kind of green.

Morning arrives with the smell of river mud and coffee at Hidden River Cafe, where you sit on a simple wooden deck watching boats slip past, their engines a low putter against birdsong from the coconut palms. The light is soft here, bouncing off the water and into your cup, perfect for those first, quiet frames. By late morning, you’re pedaling out with a local outfit from Sunrise Tour, tires hissing on damp paths as you cut through rice paddies toward Tra Que, passing water buffalo, schoolkids, and laundry strung between palm trees. Lunch and early afternoon belong to the fields: Tra Que Water Wheel and Tra Que Organic Cooking Class, where the air is thick with basil and coriander, your hands in the soil one minute and folding rice paper the next. The texture of the earth under your nails and the heat from a wok flame become as memorable as any photograph. Later, back in town, A Dong Silk and Se Se Tailor shift the focus from green to gloss – bolts of fabric, chalk lines on muslin, the soft scrape of scissors over wool. Dinner at Hoi An Heart pulls you back to the river, the glow of Bạch Đằng reflected in your wine glass and the smell of fish sauce and lime drifting up from the kitchen. As you walk home under lanterns and low conversation, you can already feel tomorrow’s pivot: from countryside and craft to coffee nerdery and the quieter edges of town.

The third morning feels slower, softer. You cross into Cẩm Nam where Olivier Coffee hides on a quiet street, the owner talking you through beans and brew methods while a fan sighs overhead. The smell of espresso and blueberry yogurt hangs in the air, and you can hear the faint slap of river water against boats nearby. Late morning, you shift gears completely with Golden Hands Bridge Tour’s travel agency – not for the bridge itself today, but as your base to plan and understand how locals think about day trips and timing, grounding your sense of the region. By midday, you’re heading toward the Coconut Village, palms closing in overhead as basket boats creak on the water and speakers occasionally blast Vietnamese pop to delighted tourists. It’s kitschy in pockets but visually rich: spinning boats, conical hats, green reflections. Afternoon pulls you back toward town, where Little HaNoi Egg Coffee hands you thick, custardy caffeine in a narrow space, and Củi Lũ Art Space on the outskirts offers a different kind of quiet – canvases, ceramics, and the muffled echo of footsteps in a white cube. As the heat drops, you climb to Mê Hội An Rooftop Coffee & Kitchen, high above Trần Phú, where lantern strings crisscross the sky and the Ancient Town spreads below like a film set. Dinner at Gia Thiện Cơm Nhà feels like being adopted by a local family for an hour, and you finish the night at Pause and Enjoy on the night market street, the clatter of plastic stools and the sizzle of skewers in the background, your mind already drifting toward tomorrow’s beach finale.

On the last morning, the air already tastes faintly of salt. You head out Cửa Đại to Silent Cafe & Food, where the name matches the mood: a gentle hush over coffee and breakfast plates as scooters whisper past outside. By mid-morning, you’re back among herbs and fields at Tra Que Herb Garden, retracing some of yesterday’s green but with a different eye – less student, more storyteller. Lunch at Le Petit Bistro on Cửa Đại feels like a small European detour, tiled floors cool underfoot, plates precise and comforting. Afternoon is about tying up threads: a lantern workshop at Hằng Dũng, where paint and silk become your final souvenir, then a stop at Blue Eye Tailor’s Le Lợi branch to collect or commission that last piece of clothing that will always smell a bit like Hoi An when you unpack it at home. A quick detour to Thien Thi Tailor for shoes or accessories, and then you let yourself drift back toward the sea. Dinner at The Beach House & Bar on An Bang is all grilled seafood and the sound of waves, the sky wide open above you. You finish at Double Cat Bar, a compact, high-energy spot where cocktails arrive bright and cold, the soundtrack runs from funk to indie, and the conversations feel like they could go on all night. Walking back along the dark beach road, the lanterns of the Ancient Town far behind you, the trip feels complete: alleys, tailors, rivers, herbs, and the sea all layered into one long, flickering reel.