Dawn in Hoi An

An elephant cloud © A. Harrison

In autumn, dawn comes late and the darkness early, in Hoi An. Autumn by the calendar, but not by feel, for it is easily 30C each day, the humidity reaching the 90s.

In the darkness of the pre-dawn, the air felt cool. A sea breeze played around us as we set out over the waves. Around us, fishermen struggled with their nets in the darkness, somehow balancing as they stood and threw the nets from their tiny boats. Larger boats circled around them, buying the fresh catch from the fishermen and delivering it to the markets, or straight to the restaurants of Hoi An.

A lone fisherman © A. Harrison

Dawn, when she came, was hidden by some clouds, which served only to make the sunrise more beautiful. Soft colours edged around the tonal greys of the night. For a moment the sun peeped through the clouds, a burning ball moving quickly through the sky before she hid again.

We headed to a fish market on a nearby island. When a boat pulled into the shore, the women ran into the water, racing each other to get the best choice, which they would then sell in the market. At times, the bargaining and competition became more than a little heated.

A magical island © A. Harrison

Such an incredible array of seafood on display, all ridiculously fresh (any leftovers are sold as food for the increasing number of fish farms). Small tuna, dragon fish, clams, prawns, baby kingfish, flathead, bream …. many I couldn’t name. A lady sold home-made rice noodles, still warm and steaming as she served them.

Sunrise is not far away © A. Harrison

Back on the boat our captain cooked us breakfast. Fresh spring rolls filled with tiny prawns, clams with ginger and lemongrass on fresh rice noodles, sticky rice, small tuna cut in half and doused with lime, pepper and salt marinade, plus a bowl of stir-fried morning glory. Vietnamese coffee to finish the meal.

What a magical way to begin another day in Vietnam.

A magical dawn © A. Harrison

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Braving the Doctor Fish of Singapore

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Venice and the Church of the Skiing Jesus