We also spent a morning taking a cooking class and learned how to make Cao Lao (noodles, croutons, pork, prawn crackers, beansprouts), spiced baked eggplant, stir fry chicken and veg., and decorative edible flowers out of tomatoes and cucumber. The chef and hostess of the restaurant that held the class (a private class as it happened - there were only us two) are newlyweds and making a go of it, working with an Australian organization to set up training and work opportunities for disadvantaged youth, who wait at the tables and who are all very sweet and efficient, filling your beer after each sip.
All turned out well, and the results were our lunch. The class was preceded by a trip to the market to scout ingredients. Much at the market was familiar but with Vietnamese variations, such as betel nuts and leaves, fresh noodles, various less well known fish, insect larvae (to be raosted and eaten as a snack!) The main issue with the market (which was as busy as Granville Island on a Saturday morning) was all the motorbikes roaring through with baskets of chickens, flats of eggs and baskets of veg all under blankets of tarps laced at about head height for us - lesson learned: stoop if it has recently rained or you will get wet when your head tips the tarps that are full of water over! 
The end of a typhoon lashed the town with torrential rain. It had been worse before we arrived and the river had burst its banks and was a half a block into the town. Our faded grandeur hotel was right by the river so we picked a room on the second floor just in case (right hand balcony), and we could keep an eye on the river level from the corridor
Whether it was dashing about from seamstress to seamstress or browsing through the ancient mouldy buildings of this "venice of vietnam" we were always getting caught in downpours. Our umbrellas from the Bay and waterproofs from the 3 Vets came in handy. Our shoes pong as nothing dries here.
Everyone in Vietnam owns a voluminous plastic poncho that immediately comes out at the sign of a downpour. You take a second look when a bike or moto goes by with two or three sets of legs hanging down below.
Hoi An is a jewel of a town, all its old buildings preserved and no new building allowed in the centre. The narrow roads are lined with ochre coloured walls, peeling shutters, moss on the tiled rooves and decorative patterns of mould (inside too I have to say).
Everyone in Vietnam owns a voluminous plastic poncho that immediately comes out at the sign of a downpour. You take a second look when a bike or moto goes by with two or three sets of legs hanging down below.
Hoi An is a jewel of a town, all its old buildings preserved and no new building allowed in the centre. The narrow roads are lined with ochre coloured walls, peeling shutters, moss on the tiled rooves and decorative patterns of mould (inside too I have to say).
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