Hrvatski | English

In Hoi An, the lights are not switched on in the evening. They are hung up.

When the sun sets behind the Thu Bon River, hundreds of silk and bamboo lanterns light up above the streets, red, yellow and green. A town that is hot and loud by day goes quiet at night and turns a different colour.

Light is my job. I calculate how much of it comes in through a window, how much heat it brings in, and how to keep a room from overheating in summer. In those calculations, light is a number. A street in Hoi An would not pass a single lighting calculation, and yet you can see everything you need to.

Along the riverbank they sell paper lanterns with a candle inside. You set one on the water and let it go. By the end of the evening the river is full of small flames, each drifting its own way.

The bridge above them is lit and still. Its reflection in the water is not.

Back at the hotel I switched on the light in my room. It was white, bright and perfectly correct. And somehow not enough.

Next time: Taste. A Vietnam you don’t look at, you eat.

Magic of Vietnam series: I. Echo · II. Rain · III. Light