Wake at 5:45. The ancient town is still yours. A bowl of cao lau for breakfast, eaten standing. The first lantern-sellers are just opening their shutters. You'll never have this town to yourself again.
By nine, the coaches come. But you'll have already crossed the Japanese bridge, photographed the yellow wall on An Hoi, and sat for a second coffee in a courtyard with a cat. The rest of the day belongs to the tourists. The morning belongs to you.
“Hoi An, like most small places, is a conversation you only get to have once - early.”
