The next day, something changed. The rain in Hoi An eased significantly. That was good news—I had been a little worried the storm would linger longer. It wasn’t sunny yet, but at least I could walk around without an umbrella.

For my late breakfast, I returned to Dolphin Hostel—a great go-to spot, especially with its cozy riverside view and warm, welcoming vibe. I ordered an English breakfast and a cup of hot coffee. It was a satisfying meal on a gloomy Hoi An morning. They still had Vietnamese egg coffee too—another treat worth savoring slowly while watching the river flow.

After the hearty meal, I took my time soaking in the calm surroundings and letting the Hoi An charm sink in. Even in the overcast weather, Hoi An remained magical in its own moody and misty way. 🌧️

I wandered back to the ancient town and saw yet another crowd of tourists—just as many as the day before. I stopped by a small souvenir shop and bought a postcard. There’s something beautifully grounding about pausing to reflect and write in the middle of a journey. It’s like catching your breath between pages of an adventure book—my adventure book.

Before the town lit up for the night, I stopped by a charming little café called Croissant Taiyaki, a quaint café in Hoi An. I ordered fish-shaped red bean cakes and a smoothie—sweet treats to match the warm atmosphere. I stayed for about an hour, resting my tired feet and letting time slow down.

It was one of those beautiful in-between moments, just sitting there, watching the world go by as Hoi An gently transitioned from day to night. There was no rush, no checklist—just peace. I waited for the darkness to slowly envelop the town, knowing that something magical was about to unfold.

The skies didn’t clear completely, but the rain finally stopped. And slowly, as if the town was waiting for the perfect moment, Hoi An revealed itself—not the version I had seen through filters and hashtags, but the real one. The one that comes alive softly, without rushing.

By day, it’s calm and laid-back—locals pedaling by, shops opening quietly, and riverboats bobbing with ease. But when night falls, the magic begins. Lanterns flicker to life one by one, casting a warm glow over the yellow walls and narrow lanes. Reflections ripple on the river, colors shimmer, and the town feels like a living postcard.

It was exactly what I had hoped for—and more. Because it wasn’t just beautiful. It felt earned.

Hoi An didn’t greet me with sunshine. It greeted me with patience. And when the time was right, it whispered, “Now, you’re ready.”

I saw it—the Hoi An I had been longing for.

Boats glided across the river, gently rocking under the soft light of lanterns. Laughter echoed from both tourists and boatmen, while small floating lanterns were released into the water, carrying wishes I could only imagine.

I paused. For a moment, I thought about joining in—writing a wish and sending off a lantern of my own. But I didn’t. As tempting as it was, I couldn’t shake my concern for the river and the environment. I watched quietly instead, soaking in the moment with my feet firmly planted and my conscience clear.

The riverside was alive—colorful stalls offering street food, vendors calling out their menus, and the smell of grilled seafood and sweet treats wafting through the air. Restaurants buzzed with diners, locals and tourists alike, and for the first time since I arrived, Hoi An truly felt like the vibrant lantern town I had dreamed of.

Businesses were breathing again. Life was flowing, slowly but surely. Just like the river. 

I’m truly thankful and deeply grateful to have experienced Hoi An—this place that once existed only as a dream, a humble item on my bucket list. And now, it’s a memory I get to carry with me forever.

Despite the stormy start, I’m glad that before I leave, I finally witnessed the beauty and charm I had only seen in videos or read about online. It wasn’t the perfect fairytale timing I had imagined—but maybe it was even better. It was delayed, yes—but never denied. 🌧️✨🏮

How good things come—sometimes not right away, but when they’re meant to.

I came to Hoi An hoping for magic, and though the journey began with rain-soaked shoes and gray skies, I found something even more precious: a reminder that beauty doesn’t always arrive on schedule. It comes quietly, sometimes after a storm, and reveals itself when you’re ready to receive it.

Life was flowing, slowly but surely. Just like the river.

*** This blog post is a part of my Vietnam-Thailand 2025 Solo Travel series. I traveled to these countries on June 12-16, 2025. ***