It wasn’t just the warmer weather, or the lower traffic density, that made our time in Hội An seem more comfortable. There was also the discovery of the Four Seasons Nam Hai Resort, at least briefly my favorite hotel. So great is its charm that our trip leaders have identified a syndrome, called “Nam Hai Fever,” which seems often to prevent guests from leaving the premises even to join in planned activities.
The hotel has a number of types of accommodations, including suites with up to five bedrooms, but our bunch was put up in their one-bedroom villas. This page has a link that shows the graceful floorplan, which puts the living area in an island all its own, leaving plenty of airy, naturally-lighted space for circulation.
In this back part of the house (which can be screened off from the living area), there are two vanities, each with its own small walk-in closet, including a low dresser, cubby-holes and an overhead shelf.
The main entry (yet a third doorway, notice) is at the side of the house, forming a spacious transept with the closet-like mini-bar across the way. The elevated living area, built like big six-poster bed, encompasses a soaking tub, seating areas, and a spacious desk that shares its backboard (and flexible task lighting) with the bed on the other side. In this picture the desk and bed are offstage to the right:
Centuries ago, Hội An was one of the most important trading centers in Asia. drawing settlers from many other countries. Today, tourists come to look at the well-preserved old city and to sample the cuisine that resulted from that meeting of cultures. It seemed like maybe the New Year’s party had already gotten into full swing, but we were told that, no, it always looks like this.
Even I overcame my “fever” to spend some time in town. One of the activities offered on our tour was an evening learning from Ms Lu at the Morning Glory Cooking School. The street view above is from the balcony where we ate chicken skewers that we had prepared earlier (our pancakes and spring rolls having been consumed in the moment).
Personally, I could have stayed at the Nam Hai forever, but it should be stated that others found themselves less suited to the arrangements. Alex points out that, though there is plenty of room for lounging, there are no chairs, so no meaningful back support. The components of the living area are ingenious but complex, as is the lighting system. And I have myself observed that any person who is six feet tall will eventually strike his or her head on the elegant shelf in the closet.
For the visual delight, for the appearance of the local Marou chocolate in the mini-bar, for the serenity of contemplating the pot of rainwater with its ladle out at the end of our yard, I would have been willing to learn to sit cross-legged, and to memorize the topography of the fixtures. But the opportunity did not arise, because, inevitably, after just a few days, we were off to Cambodia.