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In that humid haze typical of July in Vietnam—the kind that reminds you with every drag of your bulky suitcase that you did indeed overpack—we arrived in Hoi An. After a somewhat frantic journey from Da Nang and its many technicoloured attractions, crossing a small bridge onto Con Ba Xa islet was a vibe shift in every sense. Between the expansive teal of the Thu Bon River and the vivid plumage of Nipa palms sits Namia River Retreat, a new sanctuary where, just a stone’s throw from a bustling centre, an oasis of well-being awaits.
After non-stop exploring in the country’s capital, followed by a dose of the coast’s more energetic nightlife, we were primed for a much-needed recalibration. While Vietnam is a place that truly surprises and delights at every turn, the unique serenity of Namia and its dulcifying effect was precisely what our travelling bodies and minds were craving.
With villas built like modernist treehouses (if treehouses came with private pools and bathtubs set deep into stone), Namia’s accommodation puts calm and comfort at the forefront. All rooms are bright, airy and uncluttered—designed to counter the sensory overload of travel like a deep exhale at the end of a long day.
Architecturally, lofty ceilings, soft silhouettes, and neutral tones define interiors that blend contemporary Vietnamese design with the rustic minimalism of Scandinavian influences. Along one wall were retractable doors that opened onto a patio, complete with sun loungers, a private pool, and river views.
We arrived sweaty and weary, but a mid-afternoon nap and swim, accompanied by complimentary welcome drinks, restored our energy for a trip into town.
Situated in the heart of Hoi An, the retreat is just a short bicycle ride from the famous Old Town, where sprawling rice fields make up much of the scenery along your route. And after indulging in a feast of local cuisine—and putting in some custom tailoring orders, of course—we made our way back to our villa, where the evening’s wind-down treats and soothing teas were waiting for us. From there, it was easy to have the best sleep ever.
In the morning, yoga was held on a wooden deck facing the river. The gentle sun, a chorus of birds, and the quiet lap of water against the bank set the tone. With a deep focus on wellness that goes beyond the usual resort stay, activities such as riverboat rides and other holistic experiences are woven into the rhythm of your stay.
Case in point: every night, each guest is offered a 90-minute wellness journey—something between ritual and restoration. Ours began with a traditional herbal hammam, inspired by Xông Hơi, the Vietnamese steam therapy.
We were led to Lumina Spa, a glass-walled stretch facing the water. A local herbalist guided us through an apothecary of ingredients, most of which I couldn’t name but happily inhaled and succumbed to their soothing properties.
Then it was into the steam, where a thorough cleansing scrub and wash left me dewy-skinned and relaxed beyond words.
The highlight, however, was Namia’s signature treatment: Diện Chẩn, a reflexology therapy developed by Professor Bùi Quốc Châu in the 1980s. It’s not your classic lie-there-and-purr facial. Practitioners use custom tools and targeted pressure to activate energy flow and balance yin and yang. Half spa treatment, half cultural anthropology.
The retreat’s other therapies range from Vietnamese massage—of which we could not have slept more soundly after— to cupping, moxibustion, and acupressure. Each service is led by practitioners fluent in every inch of the body’s pressure map and highly skilled in the art of coma-inducing relaxation.
When you’re not swaddled in treatment rooms, Namia encourages you to explore its grounds. We hopped onto the resort’s bikes—every guest gets their own—and, following a map, pedalled by a wishing tree as we made our way to The Merchant, one of Namia’s two dining options, for a well-deserved drink by the water.
The hotel’s two restaurants interpret Hoi An’s culinary history with a contemporary sensibility. The Merchant Restaurant is the more formal of the two: think Vietnamese ingredients layered with spices once traded through nearby ports.
The Fisherman is seafood-forward and casual, drawing on the local fishing culture, and serves dishes such as grilled clams with lemongrass. Even breakfast felt like a choose-your-own-adventure thrill: an expansive buffet filled with tropical fruit, crisp pastries, and eggs prepared to your heart’s desire.
But as tempting as it is to stay poolside, Namia’s location is too compelling to ignore. By day, the ancient streets of Old Town feature French colonial homes, traditional teahouses, temples, and countless bespoke shopping opportunities for tailoring, leather goods, and much more.
But in the evenings, the historic centre glows with floating lanterns, like soft globes of colour hovering over the water. On a particularly special canal tour with a local guide, we set our intentions while lighting our own lanterns, releasing them onto the water’s surface to claim our wishes. Even after the excitement of riverside traversing, returning to the peace of Namia’s turndown service was the ultimate treat for the senses.
Despite its accolade, the beauty of the grounds is never showy. The architecture respects the landscape, celebrating the river and surrounding lush greenery. Everything feels deliberately slow, which, in a culture increasingly obsessed with output and doing-it-all, feels wonderfully restorative. More than a place to set down between sights, Namia is a mindful pause. Between arrival and (a reluctant) departure, its endless evocation of serenity and thoughtfully curated experiences never ceased to make us feel both at home and in a whole other paradise entirely. Even today, many kilometres away from the Thu Bon River, I find myself trying to tap into that spirit of all-encompassing wellness.
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