Thorbjørn A U.
Google
I’ve lingered in more cafés and wine bars than I can think about, yet every so often a place stops me mid-stride. The Hill Station Hoi An is one of those rare discoveries — a European-style deli and wine bar tucked inside a gracefully restored 100-year-old French colonial villa, humming with quiet confidence.
But it’s more than a restaurant; it feels like a modern-day waystation — the kind of place where travelers pause between journeys, trade stories, and find stillness amid movement. There’s an undercurrent of belonging here, a sense that the road has momentarily folded into rest.
The owners, Mari and Johnny, hail from the cold north, and their Nordic sensibility shapes every detail — from the understated design to the integrity of the food. Mari, originally from the beautiful town of Rena in Norway, brings with her family culinary secrets, blending them with Vietnam’s abundance to create soulful European comfort dishes.
The cheese and charcuterie boards are rustic yet refined; the wine list — thoughtfully curated — sits alongside a smart selection of Vietnamese craft beers. Nothing is excessive; everything is intentional. It’s a place that values balance — between old and new, North and Southeast Asia, solitude and connection.
Still, what stays with you isn’t only the taste but the tempo. The Hill Station moves to its own rhythm — slow, deliberate, and deeply human. It draws travelers and expats who come for a meal but stay for the conversation, the music, the soft hum of a place that makes space for both thought and laughter.
In a city bursting with color and chaos, The Hill Station Hoi An stands as a Nordic waystation of clarity and calm — a reminder that sometimes the most meaningful part of travel is not the destination, but the pause between.
