How has Hoi An in Vietnam changed? Then-and-now photos show no tourists back in 1994

This is the first of a three-part series looking at Vietnam as it evolved from a poverty-stricken postwar country into the tourist destination it is today. A recent trip to Vietnam, and especially Hoi An, brought home how drastically the country has changed over the past 30 years. It is now a very popular destination; in 2024, 14.8 million tourists flew into Vietnam, earning the country US$35 billion. Hoi An today is a tourist favourite. Its Old Town dates back to the 15th century, and was an important trading port between Europe, India, Japan and China. After the Vietnam war (1955-1975) and other conflicts, the coastal town was revived in the 1990s by Polish architect and conservator Kazimierz Kwiatkowski and given Unesco World Heritage status in 1999. More than 4 million tourists visited Hoi An in 2024, with huge crowds gathering in the evening in the Old Town to see the lanterns and famous covered bridge, visit the restaurants and browse shops that sell coffee, fashion, jewellery, paintings and more. Let us go back in time, before Agoda and Flights.com, before social media and selfies, before smartphones, before the internet. Bear in mind these photos were taken 30 years ago with a film camera – faded and with muted colours, they have that retro look. When we arrived in Hoi An in 1994, having ridden motorbikes down from Da Nang, there were exactly two tourists in town: my flatmate Andy from Hong Kong and I. We literally did not see any non-Vietnamese people anywhere on our visit. We followed the sounds of shouting and excitement down to the river. There was a crowd on the bank watching boat races. When we were spotted, we were called over, they produced two chairs, which they insisted we sit on right by the river’s edge. Our mutual language extended to “thank you”, “yes”, “no” and “hello”. There was a lot of smiling, clapping on the back and handshakes. Then two beers and a bag of winkles (shellfish) were put in our hands, and that was it, we were the guests of honour for the event. The teams paddled with bits of wood, planks and a few oars, but they were strong and the boats were moving pretty fast. With the beer, seafood, and the good-natured crowd yelling encouragement and shouting a few catcalls, it was a perfect sporting event. We checked out Cua Dai Beach. Today, it is all about resorts, sun loungers, umbrellas; back then, it was yet another beautiful stretch of empty sand. Later, we walked around the town; it mostly comprised shuttered yellow houses, a couple of banh mi sandwich carts, and empty sandy roads. No crowds of visitors, no lanterns, no bars, no shops selling coffee, fashion or art. Someone said the electricity had only been back on for a few months. It has to be said that the wide range of Vietnamese dishes and regional favourites we enjoy in restaurants today simply did not exist then. The food on offer was not that memorable, apart from the superb banh mi. The banh mi carts had a wooden and glass case with the mini baguettes and fillings displayed inside. One of the fillings was a kind of pork pâté. This tray sat out in the sun all day with no refrigeration, and the locals loved it, saying: “You must have it in the sandwich.” We had had food poisoning twice on that trip, so we stuck to less exciting versions. The empty, sleepy town was charming in its faded glory, and the people of Hoi An, like everywhere else we went in the country, were incredibly friendly; they always seemed pleased to see us and wanted to talk to us. I think there was only one hotel, a colonial building that had seen better days. The security guard sat in the garden with his mates, playing his guitar. We were told that many people in the south of Vietnam had suffered horrendously for their “collaboration” after the Americans left in 1975, and they could not own houses or do more than manual labour. When Vietnam opened back up to tourism in the 1990s, they found themselves back in demand in the hospitality sector as English speakers. Ho Chi Minh City, which everyone called Saigon, was – and still is – a place where crossing the road was an exercise in self-control and trust in the traffic, which flowed all around you as you walked slowly to the other side. Outside Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh, though, traffic was more sparse. There were bicycles, cyclos, scooters, hand carts, trucks and ancient buses, and many of the cars were relics from the 1960s. There were also a lot of what looked like home-made motorbike/trailer hybrids. Another thing I remember vividly was how many times a young Vietnamese man would approach me, all smiles, and ask if I wanted to fight him! Not in a threatening, “What are you looking at?”, kind of way, more of a test of strength. I am 6 foot 4 inches (195 centimetres) tall, and was probably two and a half times their weight. The other was the “Come have a drink with us!” scenario that quickly turned into a drinking competition. It was usually beer or some horrendous moonshine drunk out of little bowls or saucers. A bottle of Stolichnaya vodka cost US$1 – if you wanted a mixer, a bottle of Coca-Cola cost US$1. The ice was usually suspect, though.

How has Hoi An in Vietnam changed? Then-and-now photos show no tourists back in 1994

.css-1c6uqr6{color:inherit;font-weight:inherit;font-size:inherit;font-family:inherit;line-height:inherit;overflow-wrap:break-word;}In 1994, Vietnam was still emerging from almost 20 years of isolation. Tourism was in its infancy and visitors were a welcome sight

In 1994, Vietnam was still emerging from almost 20 years of isolation. Tourism was in its infancy and visitors were a welcome sight