The old town of Hoi An covers approximately two square kilometers of preserved architecture, the yellow-painted buildings, tile roofs, and wooden storefronts creating visual coherence that Vietnamese cities rarely achieve. The preservation owes much to decline - when trade left Hoi An for Da Nang's deeper harbor, the wealth that might have modernized the town left with it. The neglect that prevented demolition allowed the 20th century to pass without erasing the 19th.

The buildings that survive represent the trading cultures that used them. The Chinese assembly halls where merchants from different provinces gathered, the Japanese merchant houses that date from when Japan allowed foreign trade, the Vietnamese tube houses that extend deep into their lots - each shows how commerce organized community. The old town is not museum but business district, the shops that fill the ground floors selling to tourists rather than traders.

Hoi An's tailoring industry has made the town famous for custom clothing, the shops that line every street measuring and fitting and delivering suits and dresses within 24 hours. The tailors work from patterns that visitors choose, fabrics that range from cheap to expensive, and skill levels that vary from competent to excellent. The price that seems impossibly low reflects Vietnamese labor costs; the quality that results reflects craft tradition and experience.

The tailoring is genuine industry, not tourist performance. The shops employ thousands of workers who cut and sew and finish garments for markets beyond the tourists who photograph them. The custom suits that visitors commission are entry point to an industry that exports globally. The tailoring that Hoi An offers is not available elsewhere at similar prices; the visitors who arrive with measurements leave with wardrobes.

The lanterns of Hoi An have become the town's symbol - the silk and bamboo lamps that hang from every shopfront, that light the old town each evening, that appear on every postcard and Instagram feed. The lanterns are traditional Vietnamese craft, their production still visible in workshops where bamboo is bent and silk is stretched. The full moon festivals that turn off electric lights to emphasize lantern illumination create the atmospheric evenings that tourism promotes.

The lantern light creates the magic that photographs promise and reality sometimes delivers. The reflection in the Thu Bon River, the glow through silk, the streets transformed from commercial space to romantic destination - the lanterns do what lighting always does, which is create mood. The mood is manufactured, the commerce obvious, and still the beauty persists.

The Japanese Covered Bridge was built in the late 16th century, connecting the Japanese merchant quarter to the Chinese quarter, the architecture blending styles from both cultures. The bridge appears on Vietnamese currency, its distinctive form the symbol that represents Hoi An. The Japanese who built it left when Japan closed to foreign trade in the 17th century; the bridge they left behind became Vietnamese heritage.

The bridge is Hoi An's must-see attraction, the ticket that grants access to the old town including it as principal destination. The interior holds a small temple; the exterior provides the photograph that every visitor takes. The bridge is lovely and overcrowded, significant and overwhelmed, the paradox of preservation that success creates.

The beaches of Cua Dai and An Bang lie four kilometers from the old town, the sand and sea that provide the resort experience that Hoi An's streets cannot. The cycling path that connects town to beach passes rice paddies and villages that show what Vietnam looks like beyond tourist destinations. The hotels that have developed along the coast range from backpacker basic to international luxury, the accommodation options that Hoi An provides for different budgets.

The beaches allow Hoi An to serve as complete destination rather than day-trip from Da Nang. The visitors who spend a week can divide time between cultural exploration and beach relaxation, the combination that keeps them longer than either element alone would justify. The beach development threatens the rice fields that surround it; the tourism that preservation enabled may destroy the context that preservation requires.