Hoi An Countryside Bike Tour: Family Homes & Rice Wine Tasting

4.98

(277 reviews)

What’s the experience like?

I didn’t expect the first thing I’d notice was the smell — that faint green scent of wet grass as we rolled out of Hoi An. Our guide, Minh, checked everyone’s helmets (mine was a bit crooked but he just grinned) and then we were off, dodging a few chickens before the town faded behind us. The road turned quiet so quickly. Just the click of bike gears and someone’s laughter up ahead. I kept looking at the water buffaloes — they looked back like they knew exactly what we were doing.

We stopped at a tiny kitchen where steam fogged up the windows. Minh introduced us to his aunt (I think? Or maybe just a neighbor), who handed me a plate of bánh bèo. They’re these soft rice cakes topped with something crunchy and salty — honestly I still think about that texture. She showed us how she makes them every morning for her family; it felt nosy but she didn’t seem to mind at all. After that, we pedaled through more rice fields until we reached this old family house with a wooden chapel inside. Minh explained how families here keep their ancestors close — literally in the middle of their living rooms. It made me think about my own grandparents for a second.

The path narrowed along a canal where kids waved from boats and someone played music on a radio (tinny but cheerful). We watched men building fishing boats by hand — no power tools, just hammers echoing over the water. The air smelled like sawdust and river mud together. At one point, Minh pointed out some women weaving mats; their fingers moved so fast I couldn’t follow it. He tried to show me but mine came out lumpy and everyone laughed (including me).

Our last stop was this little distillery run by an older couple who barely spoke English but poured us shots of homemade rice wine anyway. There was one version with herbs floating in it that tasted…stronger than I expected. Minh said it’s good for your health but I’m not sure about that part! The ride back to Hoi An felt slower — maybe because nobody wanted it to end yet, or maybe because of that second glass of rice wine.