Hoi An

So long Sapa and hello Hoi An. We have left the hill tribes of North Vietnam to head south to the historic former trading mecca awarded Unesco World Heritage status in 1999. Between the 15th and 19th centuries Hoi An was one of South-East Asia's major ports and a hub of commerce, traders flocking here from India, Japan, China, Indonesia, America and many European countries - Britain, Portugal, Spain and the Netherlands among them. The diversity of cultures made for a heady brew, and the influences live on today.

The section known as the Old Town remains much as it did centuries ago. Just a two minute walk from our neat little riverside hotel and across the bridge that spans the Thu Bon River we find ourselves taking a trip back in time in the quarter's pulsating heart - narrow streets and tiny alleys buzzing with life, medieval homes turned into museums, ancient assembly halls, handicraft workshops and weathered timber-fronted merchant houses, with colourful silk lanterns billowing outside them in the warm gentle evening breeze.

Sadly there is a price to pay for all the history and heritage - it's called tourism. The floating red, yellow, pink and blue cartoon-like characters that dot the river near the bridge, and which are garishly lit up at night, give this part of town a Disney theme park feel.

On the other hand were it not for the tourist dong (Vietnam's currency) - and, at the end of the day, we are part of the gaggle who flock here in their thousands every week - Hoi An may have fallen into obscurity many moons ago.

Tourist trap or not, there is much to like here - not least the cute little cafes, bars and restaurants doing brisk business and the countless tailors and dressmaking shops where traders continue to market high quality silk just as their ancestors did done for hundreds of years before them. In fact, tailor-made clothes are the big drawcard here, with shop after shop specialising in traditional Vietnamese dresses, tunics and trousers, plus a nice line in nifty footwear.

Chris is looking to have a dress made and really likes a lady named Mai, who has made her feel welcome at her little shop, without being at all pushy - there are touts galore here trying to get you through their door. Mai vows to rustle up a little tangerine number in a couple of days once she has taken measurements. John, not to feel left out, indulges himself at a different premises by being fitted for a new pair of soft leather loafers. They can be knocked up in 24 hours. Hey presto. Shopping in Hoi An is a bit like turning up in Aladdin's Cave.

Spend the evening in funkly little restaurant with fellow travellers and friends Sam and Polly - we must stop meeting like this, folks - Mason. We first came across this fun young London couple in Fiji around seven months ago and then again, much more recently on the Cambodian leg of our travels. They, like us, have been in Vietnam for a while - but going from south to north (we headed in the opposite direction) - and happened to be in Hoi An at the same time, just as we had been in Siem Reap to explore the temples of Angkor.

We hit off with Sam and Polly from the off in Fiji, so reunion No.2 was very definitely called for - and, as is always a case when the Walters and Masons get together, a good time was had by all - this time at a little riverside restaurant that specialised in some mouth-watering spring rolls and super spicy hotpot (Sam did warn us how hot the red-hot chilli peppers actually were), washed down by several beer hois (fresh beer at 4,000 dong, 15pence a glass) for the boys and a bottle of the local Dalat red wine, lovely and very reasonably priced, for the girls. Cheers, we'll drink to that - and we did - and, just like in Cambodia, we were the last customers to leave the premises. Ooops.

Sam and Polly have made arrangements to take a dawn boat ride on the river tomorrow in the hope of seeing fishermen casting their nets, and ask us if we would like to join them. While Chris is well up for it, John is a tad reluctant at first (he's never been much of an early morning person) but several beer hois (must be some kind of magic formula) later is much more receptive to the idea.

The alarm is set for 4am. We are meeting Sam and Polly at 5.30am. It's daybreak already, but the sun has not come up. Considering the late night and early start everyone is very chipper and our boatman sports a jolly and toothy grin. We glide serenely along the river. The light is quite beautiful. In the distance we can make out huge orange-hued nets looking for all the world like massive upside down UFOs. Either side of the nets, which are supported by tall bamboo poles, men sit on platforms operating a wheel - a kind of pulley which makes the nets rise and fall in the water. It's difficult to see the bounty harvested, but we spot the occasional flash of silver squirming against the orange.

By now the sun comes up to greet us and we pull up near some fishing boats. Alongside them are women in what are, to all intents and puroposes, coracles - only rounder, less beetle-shaped than the ones once used on West Wales rivers. The fisher folk ladies clamber on board to sort and weigh the catches of the day before rowing back in their little 'tubs' to the banks of the river where the locals line up to barter.

We return to dry land at 7am, so glad we made the effort to get up early. Thanks Sam and Polly for letting us in on your adventure - and persuading John he should go along for the ride (dawn start or not). He did appreciate it - honestly. Telling Chris it was an experience he would not have missed for the world is proof of the pudding.

The Masons are leaving Hoi An today for pastures north and new - so we bid them a fond farewell and promise to team up again for reunion No.3 back in Britain when they eventually return from their travels sometime during late summer. Next stop for them as we write is base camp at Mt. Everest. Wow.

Famished after our river trip we enjoy a hearty breakfast on the balcony of our hotel - the Long Life Riverside - and decide on a day out in the country on a couple of bicycles. Fifteen minutes later we are among rice paddy fields. Stop to greet a happy as larry rice farmer who temporarily swaps hats - his is a traditional Vietnamese conical bamboo lampshade-like number - with Chris, at the same time handing her a lovely bunch of water-lilies he picks especially for her.

After exchanging several knowing nods and smiles, and hats returned to rightful owners, we wave him goodbye and cycle on past vegetable allotments through little villages off the beaten track. They are unspoilt and charming - geese, ducks and water buffalo seem to even outnumber dogs and cats here - and little children run out to wave to us and bid us xin chao (hello). It's a delightful way to see the real Vietnam - a simple and charming rural way of life that has existed for hundreds of years.

Sadly all good things must come to an end, and tomorrow - after picking up Chris's outfit - we will have to reluctantly say our goodbyes to Hoi An too. As we make for Dalat in the Central Highlands on the next leg of our journey through this intoxicating country we'll be packing our suitcases, not only with a new dress and a pair of shoes, but a pocketful of fabulous memories.