The saga of Sunday March 23, 2025 travelling between Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam and Hoi An, Vietnam
Sunday morning, we woke up early to finish packing and enjoyed a few leisurely hours at the apartment before heading to the airport. We had a flight to Da Nang and then a forty-five-minute drive to Hoi An where we would settle in for ten days. While most travelers stay in Da Nang for its city life, we chose the outskirts of Hoi An — close to the beach, within walking distance of the artistic and tourist zones (but not overwhelmed by them), and just under an hour’s walk to the only Chabad in the area.
As Chaim and I packed, Amichai led a family sing-along using my phone for lyrics. This has become a favorite past time of ours. It was so much fun. Music is so good for everyone’s soul and does wonders to put our family in a great mood.
The boys transitioned out of the apartment like pros, and we were all downstairs early waiting for our taxi to the airport in the pick-up lane by our building. Five minutes into our drive, I realized we’d forgotten our food bag. This is no small thing for a family that keeps kosher and traveling with four very hungry children. Every morsel is precious. We asked our driver to turn around, hoping our food bag would be right where we left it in the pick-up lane. Miraculously, it was!
Airport check-in went smoothly, but like many Southeast Asian airports, we were required to remove all electronics — even plugs — from our luggage during security. Thankfully, after learning this the hard way in India, we had a system: two packing cubes for all electronics. Still, there’s got to be an easier way. (Maybe one day Chaim or I will write a reflection on global airport security practices.)
When we landed, our Airbnb hostess, Chuong, had arranged a van for us. This was essential, since most local cars can’t fit more than four passengers even without much luggage. The drive took us past Da Nang’s famous Dragon Bridge, along the coast, and by the stunning Marble (Jade) Mountains. Just seeing these places sparked our excitement to explore.
Chuong greeted us warmly with coconut water and a huge smile. She gave us a detailed overview of Hoi An and offered to help us with tickets or transportation — a relief, given how little I knew about the area. Even if I didn’t plan to call on her, it felt good knowing I could. A reminder that community support, even in new places, makes all the difference.
Our new home was a tall, narrow house — a style we’d noticed in Ho Chi Minh City and now got to experience ourselves. Except for the bedrooms, the layout was almost entirely open-plan. The first floor had a small dining nook beside the living room, a downstairs bedroom, a narrow galley kitchen, and a bathroom. The kitchen had a sink, gas stovetop (no oven), and a very small prep area. We had to manually turn the gas on and off with each use — a habit that didn’t come naturally. Most locals use chopsticks for cooking, but since we couldn’t kasher the ones provided, we relied on the one knife we could kasher for all our food prep.
Similar to bathrooms we’d experienced in Zanzibar and India, this one had no dividers. The shower, toilet, and sink all shared one space. We had to squeegee really well after every shower to ensure no one slipped while using the toilet. Upstairs were two nice sized bedrooms (one with its own bathroom) and a cozy loft area with a low table and seat cushions for the floor. One bedroom opened out onto a small deck with a lawn chair, small table, and a place to hang dry our clothing.
The boys declared they preferred Hoi An to Ho Chi Minh City within minutes of arriving. Fewer people. Less traffic. Very friendly. It also might have helped that we were less than a five-minute walk from a peaceful river and beautiful beach.
After a full day of travel, the boys were itching to move. I had hoped we could rent bikes for everyone to explore Hoi An. We walked by Chuong’s house on the river to ask about bike rentals. Sadly, only Amichai was comfortable with the available bikes. Eitan’s was too big. Shai’s brakes didn’t work — he crashed into a scooter and scraped his leg after an epic fall (he got up smiling, thankfully). Matanel flat-out refused to try his. Eitan, who had really been looking forward to biking, was crushed and fell into a funk. To reset his mood, Chaim and I walked everyone to the beach. A wise decision. Within a few minutes, Eitan was running around with his brothers playing tag and having fun on the beach.
Just as Chaim and I were catching our breath, Shai came hobbling over to us, grimacing. Something had pierced his heel. I did my best to remove the very small, tiny object with my fingernails. It was clear more remained. We had no idea what he stepped on until Amichai told us they had been playing near a dead fish skeleton. He thinks it was a bone from the fish’s tail that was poking out of the sand. Ugh.
Other people probably would have taken their child to the hospital. I wasn’t mentally prepared for a hospital visit in a foreign country where English is only sort of spoken. Also, I didn’t think there was much that could be done. I texted the medical professionals in my family to ask what to do. Thank God for them. Turns out, the answer is to simply soak in hot, soapy water three times a day until the body pushes the object out on its own (which can take weeks if not months, but who’s counting!). Poor Shai couldn’t put his heel down, so Chaim had to carry him the whole way home.
Our Airbnb was charming and spacious, but not without flaws. There was a very real ant problem right on the kitchen-bathroom border. We used ant spray almost daily and had to clean up the amassing ant graveyards multiple times a day. Worse, the downstairs bathroom had a strong sewage odor — like the smell of a backed-up houseboat toilet (which we, unfortunately, knew well from our stay in Kingston-Upon-Thames!). Chaim and I were staying in the bedroom next to that bathroom. I had trouble sleeping with that smell wafting in.
Although we liked the relaxed and friendly vibe in Hoi An, I wondered how long I was going to be able to stay in the Airbnb with the bathroom issue. When I complained aloud, the boys told me I needed to be “flexible.” I couldn’t even be mad — they were using my own words “against” me. It was heartening. They were learning to live with discomfort and carry that flexibility that Chaim and I had been preaching.
That night, I ordered a scooter ride to go food shopping. Hilariously, I couldn’t get my helmet fastened, so a young man helped me like I was a clueless kid. At the first store, I discovered that produce markets are separate from non-produce mini-markets – a logistical issue I hadn’t anticipated. This was going to be a problem if I couldn’t find a better option. My scooter driver was still there when I exited so I caught a ride back home with him. I dropped off my first batch of groceries at home, then he took me into town to a Winn where I could find produce, dried goods, milk, snacks, and more. I left with two heavy bags, unsure he’d could manage the load on his scooter, but he expertly balanced one bag while I carried the other on my shoulder.
Finally, I made it home. Tired, but stocked with enough food to last us at least two days.
