Blog · 11 September 2026
Most old houses in Hội An's ancient town get one of two treatments: left to fall in, or scrubbed back to a version of themselves that looks new again. The house on Nguyễn Duy Hiệu got neither. The paint stayed layered, one coat over the last owner's coat over the one before that. The walls stayed weathered. Nothing was sanded smooth.
By day the courtyard belongs to Lalita's Mexican Brunch, sunlit and loud with plates. From four in the afternoon the candles come out and the same rooms turn into Hèm: quieter, warmer, lit low enough that the wear on the walls reads as character rather than damage. Two venues, one house, and neither one hiding what the building actually is.
