As dusk descends upon Hoi An, the ancient riverside town begins its daily metamorphosis. The ochre-walled houses, weathered wooden shutters, and moss-kissed rooftops that stood quietly beneath the tropical sun suddenly awaken beneath the glow of thousands of silk lanterns. These luminous orbs—crimson, saffron, emerald, and gold—dangle from eaves, sway above narrow alleyways, and float upon the Thu Bon River like fallen stars, casting a magical luminescence that feels both timeless and transient. This is when Hoi An truly breathes, when its centuries-old soul emerges from the shadows to tell its story.

To understand Hoi An is to understand its lanterns. They are not mere decorations but living symbols of the town’s identity—a delicate balance between memory and modernity, between Vietnamese tradition and foreign influence. For over five centuries, this UNESCO World Heritage site has been a cultural crossroads, a melting pot of Cham, Chinese, Japanese, and European traders, each leaving an indelible mark on its architecture, cuisine, and spirit. The lantern, with its soft, welcoming light, became a universal language of warmth and hospitality, guiding merchants, sailors, and travelers to its shores. Today, it continues to guide wanderers—not to spice-laden cargo ships, but to the quiet magic of a town suspended in time.

Walking through Hoi An’s Ancient Quarter feels like stepping into an open-air museum, albeit one that pulses with life. The narrow, winding streets are closed to cars, allowing the rhythmic clip-clop of cyclos and the murmur of passing conversations to fill the air. Here, the lanterns do more than illuminate; they transform. Under their glow, the faded yellow facades of centuries-old shophouses seem to brighten, their intricate carvings and ceramic roof tiles thrown into relief. The Japanese Covered Bridge, an iconic 16th-century structure built to link the town’s Japanese and Chinese communities, appears especially ethereal at night, its wooden arch reflected in the water below, framed by strings of lanterns that dance in the breeze.

But the true heart of Hoi An’s lantern culture lies in its craftspeople. In small workshops tucked away in quiet lanes, artisans still practice the painstaking art of lantern-making, a skill passed down through generations. Using bamboo frames and hand-dyed silk, they create lanterns in every shape and size—from classic round and hexagonal designs to elaborate lotus and diamond forms. The process is slow, deliberate, and deeply meditative. There are no machines here; only skilled hands that know how to bend bamboo without breaking it, how to stretch silk without tearing it, and how to infuse each piece with a soul of its own.

One such artisan is Mrs. Lan, whose family has been making lanterns in Hoi An for over a hundred years. In her dimly lit workshop, the air smells of bamboo shavings and incense. She works silently, her fingers moving with a grace that comes only from decades of practice. “A lantern is not just a thing of beauty,” she says, without looking up from her work. “It is a container of light, of history, of hope. When we light a lantern, we are not just lighting a lamp—we are keeping a memory alive.” Her words echo the sentiment of many here, for whom lanterns are deeply intertwined with spiritual and cultural practices, from ancestral worship to Lunar New Year celebrations.

As night deepens, the lanterns lead visitors to the river, where another ritual unfolds. Here, locals and travelers alike release small, floating lanterns onto the water, each one carrying a wish or a prayer. The scene is mesmerizing: hundreds of tiny lights drifting slowly downstream, their reflections shimmering like golden scales. It is a tradition rooted in Buddhist and folk beliefs, symbolizing the release of worries and the embrace of new beginnings. For a moment, the line between past and present blurs; one can almost imagine the 17th-century merchants doing the same, their hopes riding upon these gentle currents.

Yet Hoi An is not frozen in amber. Beyond the lantern-lit core, the town is very much alive with the energy of modern Vietnam. Sleek cafes spill onto sidewalks, art galleries showcase contemporary works, and tailor shops—a legacy of the town’s textile trade—cater to fashion-conscious visitors. The lanterns, in their own way, have adapted too. While traditional designs remain beloved, new styles have emerged, incorporating modern patterns and even LED lights for the eco-conscious. This harmony between old and new is perhaps Hoi An’s greatest charm; it honors its history without becoming a relic.

Of course, this delicate balance faces challenges. The very beauty that draws visitors also threatens to overwhelm the town’s fragile ecosystem. Pre-pandemic, Hoi An welcomed millions of tourists a year, leading to concerns about overcrowding, pollution, and the commodification of culture. Yet the community has responded with resilience. Local initiatives promote sustainable tourism, from plastic-free campaigns to heritage preservation projects. The lanterns, too, play a role—many are now made with eco-friendly materials, and solar-powered lights are increasingly common. Even in the face of change, Hoi An strives to keep its light burning clean and bright.

To visit Hoi An is to witness a town that has mastered the art of holding on and letting go. It holds on to its lanterns, its stories, its slow-paced rhythm; it lets go of the need to rush, to modernize at all costs, to sacrifice soul for convenience. In the glow of a silk lantern, one sees not just a pretty light, but a testament to resilience—a community that has weathered wars, floods, and the passage of time, yet still finds joy in creating something beautiful. It is a reminder that some things, like the gentle light of a lantern, need not be loud to be powerful.

As the night draws to a close and the crowds thin, the lanterns continue to burn. They cast long, dancing shadows on the ancient walls, whisper secrets to the river, and watch over the town like gentle guardians. In their light, Hoi An feels both vast and intimate, both foreign and familiar. It is a place where time slows down, where history feels touchable, and where a simple lantern becomes a beacon—not just for lost travelers, but for anyone seeking a glimpse of a softer, slower, more luminous world.