Slow coffee on Nguyen Hue
A balcony seat above the boulevard where the city hum turns into white noise.
2024-05-03 · 4 min read
Nguyen Hue wakes in layers: flowers stacked on scooters, teenagers rehearsing TikTok choreography, tour guides waving tiny flags. By noon the sun sharpens every edge, but the shade under the art deco balconies stays cool enough to write.
The agenda is short: find a balcony, order a cà phê sữa đá, listen for the lull between horns. Small details become anchors—a couple rehearsing wedding poses, a street band practicing the same hook until it catches.
The evening belongs to walkers. The boulevard becomes a ribbon of silhouettes heading toward the river, phones raised for the pink hour. I linger until the lights switch on and the air smells like fried batter, before climbing down to follow the crowd toward dinner.
