Pause and Wander

Dates: January 2–6, 2026

Place: Hoi An, Vietnam

We almost skipped Hoi An. Too many people warned us off. Too many photos of lanterns, selfie lines, and influencer hot spots made it feel like the kind of place that had tipped from lived-in to performed. But then, over and over again, different people insisted on the same thing: yes, it’s touristy, undeniably so, but if you step just a little off the script—away from the bridges, the feeds, the must-see lists—Hoi An still has layers. Real ones. That was enough to make us curious. So we came, with tempered expectations, ready to look past the obvious and see what was still there.

We arrived in Hoi An on a travel day anchored by a 3.5 hour train ride. Those days can go either way, and this one leaned gently in our favor. The morning followed our now familiar rhythm. Homework at the hotel while we packed the last of our bags. Two huge red apples we’d bought from a kiosk the night before became the perfect bridge between waking up and lunch. Sweet, crisp, and just enough to keep everyone from getting too grumpy while pencils moved across paper.

Once homework and packing were wrapped up, we walked to Nook Eatery for lunch. It was great in all the quiet ways that matter. Friendly staff, a clean and comfortable space, and food that clearly had care behind it. Max ordered bún thịt nướng, a Vietnamese noodle dish built around grilled marinated pork, rice vermicelli, fresh herbs, pickled vegetables, and a light fish sauce dressing meant to hit every note at once: smoky, sweet, salty, crunchy, and fresh. It absolutely nailed it. Shaina went in the opposite direction with a ridiculously overstuffed hamburger. The girls split a mini pizza and fried chicken chunks, which felt like a small but meaningful parenting win on a travel day.

Before and after eating, we finished a game of Yahtzee. Arya reigned supreme and made sure we all knew it.

The train itself was comfortable and easy, with generous legroom and an oddly soothing rhythm. Max spent the ride finishing The Anxious Generation, a deeply data driven look at how smartphones and social media have reshaped childhood. It gave structure and evidence to instincts we both have carried since becoming parents back in 2014, since quitting all forms of social media. Uncomfortable reading, but important.

The most unexpected highlight came from the seats next to us. A older Vietnamese couple ordered a foot soak. On the train. An attendant returned with a wooden bucket of herb infused brown water. Lavender, chamomile, and something earthier underneath. A kettle arrived later to warm it again. Cost: about $2.50. Next Vietnamese train ride, we are absolutely doing this.

As the tracks wound through the famous Hai Van Pass, jungle covered cliffs dropped toward the sea. It was the kind of scenery that reveals itself slowly, the way only trains seem to manage.

We arrived in Da Nang and bypassed the chaos thanks to a driver holding a sign with Shaina’s name. That small luxury has begun to feel priceless. The drive to Hoi An itself was rough, hard acceleration and hard braking churning stomachs, but the moment we arrived at Enso Retreat, everything softened. A quiet property tucked outside the busiest parts of town. A two bedroom bungalow opening directly onto an infinity pool. The day finally loosened its grip.

Dinner was handled onsite. Cao Lầu, Hoi An’s signature noodle dish made with thick noodles, pork, greens, and crispy croutons. White Rose dumplings, delicate translucent shrimp dumplings folded to resemble flower petals and found almost nowhere else in Vietnam. Hoành thánh, local style wontons that are lighter and crispier than their Chinese counterparts. Simple, local, and gone quickly. We went to bed already feeling the pace shift.

Each day at Enso began the same way. Buffet breakfasts that bordered on ridiculous. Omelette bars, pho, sticky rice, passion fruit, western staples and Vietnamese classics side by side. We always ate more than necessary. We justified it by biking into town afterward.

The ride into Hoi An’s Old Town took us through newer outskirts where development has expanded quickly and deliberately. The contrast sharpened as we approached the preserved core. Tailor shops, lanterns, leather goods, restaurants packed into every viable space. Some places felt rushed. Others clearly tried harder. Those were the ones worth finding.

We bought socks. Haggle danced. Wandered markets. And then stumbled onto something completely new to us: quilling. Narrow strips of paper tightly rolled, then folded and shaped into intricate designs. A cooperative of artists quietly practicing patience and precision. Watching them work was mesmerizing in the way good craftsmanship always is.

Lunch that day came from Nom Bistro, a random find tucked down a random alley. Plants, water, comfortable seating, chill music. We journaled while waiting for food, then lingered over Vietnamese dishes that were fresh, spicy, and perfectly balanced. Saigon beers followed. A game of Liar’s Dice made a comeback.

Hoi An revealed itself in the unexpected. You could walk down a crowded street packed with shops and then notice a narrow alley that led to a small temple nearly empty and completely calm. We’ve gotten into the habit of making a small donation at these Buddhist temples and lighting a stick of incense or a candle, depending on what’s available. It isn’t a religious act for us, but a quiet pause to reflect on what we’re grateful for. Being on this trip together, healthy, and able to move through the world like this is something we don’t take lightly.

Back at Enso, afternoons slowed. Homework in the repurposed bar turned study hall. Swimming when we could. Giant bathtubs to warm purple lips back to pink. Burgers one night because sometimes that’s exactly right. Evening walks through Old Town once the crowds thinned, live music drifting instead of shouting.

Then Arya’s ear began to hurt.

At first it was manageable. A bit of swimmer’s ear, we thought. Alcohol drops. Tylenol. Advil. Fewer swims. But nights became harder. Pain that surged when she lay down. Long hours of back rubs and vigilance until sleep finally came.

Plans adjusted quietly. We still did breakfast. Still did homework. Still mapped out what came next, Quy Nhon and Ho Chi Minh City, but with softer expectations. Lunch arrived from the hotel restaurant. Fried noodles. Chicken with cashews. Spring rolls the girls loved before they learned that they weren’t pork, but shrimp.

We rented scooters for the rest of the day and crossed the river toward Cam Kim Island for a woodworking class at Ngô Wood Art and Workshop. That’s when a few small problems stacked up at once. The VPBank ATM we usually rely on was out of commission, and then our phones stopped working entirely. No data. Max also realized he hadn’t downloaded Google Maps for the area ahead of time, which meant no navigation from north of Hoi An, through the city, across the river, and onto the island. We were going to have to do this the old school way. Memorize the map, follow street signs, pull over periodically, and recheck our progress. It worked.

The workshop was small, warm, and welcoming. A tea ceremony unfolded slowly, deliberately inefficient and completely charming. We carved designs into wooden planks using simple tools. A Monkey and Horse for the girls—their respective Chinese zodiac animals. Geometric East Asian motifs for the parents. Four hours passed in what felt like minutes. The results were imperfect and ambitious and absolutely worth keeping. We’ll like them even more in 7 months when they hang at home layered with memory.

Arya’s ear flared again, and we realized we’d pushed the outing a bit too long. We headed back sooner than planned, ducking into dinner to escape the crowds and the rain. By the time we stepped back outside, the storm had rinsed the streets nearly clean. Lanterns glowed, the town quieted, and everything felt calmer after the downpour.

The next night was rough. Arya’s ear ache turned into full on throbbing pain whenever she laid down, and it woke her again and again. We stayed vigilant with pain meds and back rubs until morning. By then it was clear the day would need to start slow and practical. Max headed out early to the pharmacy to get antibiotic ear drops and a couple different pain meds, then did a quick laundry drop off before looping back to get Arya dosed and settled. Breakfast happened eventually and at a glacial pace. Any remaining plans quietly pivoted.

Shaina stayed back with Arya, offering to read, play cards, and just hang out quietly while she continued to rest her ear. That opened up the afternoon for Max and Finlee to explore on the motorbike. With a loose loop in mind, they headed out through rice paddies and onto narrow back roads, first making their way around Cam Nam Island. It has long been a working island of fishermen, boat builders, and small farms tied closely to the Thu Bon River, but it is clearly in the middle of change. Large tracts have been cleared, new roads laid, and the contrast between what remains and what is coming is impossible to miss. Farms and garden plots are still there, but everything feels stuck in that messy middle phase where it is unclear what the end result will be.

From there, Max and Finlee rode on to Tra Que Vegetable Village, a small farming community known for supplying herbs and greens to many of Hoi An’s restaurants. The plots are tended entirely by hand using traditional organic methods, and the whole place feels more like a cooperative garden than a village. As they continued their ride through the surrounding paddies, they came across an older farmer lounging contentedly atop a truly ginormous water buffalo, chewing a reed and smiling like the embodiment of rural Vietnam. It was the kind of moment that stops you without asking, ordinary and completely unforgettable.

Max and Finlee pushed north toward An Bang Beach, but the conditions made it clear they wouldn’t be staying long. Red warning flags lined the shore, the wind was fierce, and the sky had turned heavy and gray. They managed about 10 minutes with their feet in the water before the rain arrived, stinging with the wind. That was the cue to leave. They ducked under an awning for gelato while the storm passed, which felt like a small but well earned victory.

On the way back, Max ignored the most direct route and wandered instead along raised tracks just wide enough for two scooters to pass. The paths cut through rice paddies, past small homesteads, and eventually into flooded coconut groves where the route grew even more winding. Finlee narrated the entire ride. Stop to look at sun rays breaking through the clouds. Don’t stop because the mosquitoes were out in force. Stop again for baby cows playing in the grass. It was a perfect daddy daughter adventure.

When they returned to Enso, Shaina and Arya were lounging by the pool with smoothies and the remains of a good meal. Everyone reconvened easily. Dinner followed, then cards, then bed. Sleep was still uneven, but better.

None of these days would headline a travel guide, and honestly, they weren’t especially easy. What began with curiosity and cautious optimism was reshaped by sleepless nights, pain we couldn’t fix quickly, and the kind of exhaustion that stacks quietly and relentlessly. Arya’s ear infection changed everything. We dug deep just to get through the nights, then dug again to find enough energy to face the days. The touristy side of Hoi An is real, no exaggeration there, and on low sleep it was sometimes hard to look past it. There were moments of frustration, worry, and weariness that no lantern light could soften.

And yet, despite all of that, we’re genuinely glad we came. Once we stepped even slightly away from the obvious scenes, Hoi An did reveal its layers. Quiet meals, back roads, small workshops, unexpected kindness, and moments that felt lived rather than staged. We still found light where we could, still showed up for each other, and still made the best of a hard stretch. This wasn’t an easy chapter, but it was a meaningful one. We made it through together, and we leave hopeful that what comes next will be lighter, better rested, and just a little easier than these last few days.