Dien Pham
Discover a different type of luxury in a serene riverside oasis.
I used to love Hoi An for its sunlit yellow walls, softened by age, and the bursts of bright bougainvillea beneath the Central Vietnam sun. Yet as more tourists discovered the Old Town, I found myself drawn to quieter corners, places where time seemed to slow, and nostalgia lingered. This four-day journey introduced me to a different side of Hoi An: tranquil, uncrowded, and deeply comforting.
Cam Kim – revisiting rural memories
Journeying upstream along the Thu Bon River, I took a leisurely boat ride to Cam Kim Island. This small island welcomed me with century-old bamboo swaying in the morning breeze and the steady clack of wood carving from the homes of Kim Bong Carpentry Village. Deep in the village lanes, the scent of wild grass mingled with the aroma of freshly woven reed mats. Low green hibiscus hedges evoked memories of my grandmother’s courtyard, where golden fruits ripened in the sun.
Standing before green rice fields filled with young seedlings, and watching white egrets wheel through the air alongside grazing buffaloes, I felt as though I were turning the pages of an old book about Vietnam’s timeless countryside. Tucked in a century-old bamboo grove stood the home of an elder nearing 80, the last remaining artisan still practicing the traditional local craft of hand-weaving thung chai (coracle boats). Though weathered and marked by time, his hands still deftly shaved bamboo strips and wove them into basket boats. These small round boats have long served as a cultural symbol of Hoi An’s waterscapes.
Namia River Retreat – a secluded sanctuary
To extend this sense of calm, I chose to stay at Namia River Retreat, located on a private islet in the river. From the first moment, this retreat offered a serene, welcoming atmosphere. My hideaway on the banks of the Thu Bon was rustic yet refined, with an open layout facing the slow-moving water.
In the early mornings, I threw open the windows and inhaled the cool mist rising from the river and the scent of the nipa palm forest. Sitting in stillness as the sunset painted the water crimson, I felt the noise of modern life fade away.
Here, my days passed peacefully, enveloped in the fragrant warmth of traditional Vietnamese herbal therapies (thuoc nam) and acupressure treatments that gently supported relaxation and rebalanced my inner energy. The herbs’ aroma brought back long-forgotten childhood memories of my mother and grandmother preparing pots of freshly picked garden herbs to steam and soothe me. It was a scent of care and unconditional love from my early years.
Even the food here reflected a quiet simplicity. White Rose dumplings (banh bao banh vac) recalled old local traditions, while a bowl of cao lau noodles offered a humble, nourishing meal. Every ingredient came from nearby farms, reflecting this land’s authentic character.
Evenings in this oasis felt even softer thanks to artfully dimmed lighting, which allowed me to see a clear, star-filled night sky – a rare luxury for city dwellers used to neon lights. A sense of peace settled into my every step as I released a symbolic lantern onto the lotus pond as night fell.
Leaving Hoi An, my luggage held few tangible souvenirs, but my mind was full of quiet, lingering impressions. This riverside retreat gave me a new definition of “luxury” in travel: not glitz or spectacle, but a sense of calm and space for the soul to slow down and experience each fleeting moment more fully.
