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Café Des Amis waits patiently by the banks. In some ways maybe its awaiting its history, or just a future where the past can be reclaimed. But in its essence, it quietly looks upon the town which is now teeming with new faces every day. Unlike the day it opened when it would spread itself across the river front, serving up to 150 diners at a time, today it stands as a testament to the spirit of Hoi An. Humble and forward looking, yet deeply aware of its glorious past. Its beating heart and triumphant soul, Mr Kim, ensure that there isn't a page of Café Des Amis' history, that will ever be missing. Mr. Kim; the owner, head chef and storyteller at Café Des Amis, is all of Vietnam in one man. The poise, the calm, the humility and the food! There is a distinct French flavor to everything at the café, including the music which screeches effortlessly on his ancient phonograph sitting in a corner that I couldn't find. Mr. Kim, is a man of the world. He speaks many languages, breaks into a bit of a jig to his favorite songs and is mostly a curious old man. Upon discovering my Indian roots he pulled out notebooks of guest comments from over the years with entries from Indians. Immediately, the sparkle in his eyes, were transferred to mine. Stories of travelers over the years discovering a very different Hoi An from the ones my eyes were seeing. We sat and spoke about an evolving Hoi An and he never extended the conversation to Vietnam, it was just always about his humble town. He waved at everyone on the streets while he refused to play a game of cards with me, because, `I know I will beat you and I don't want you feeling bad when you leave me'. Through his own stories and those left by the thousands of travelers who had eaten his traditional `White Rose', drunk some cheap yet exquisite French wine, Mr. Kim leaves you with a sense of satisfaction of a world which celebrates a place like his and most importantly, a man like him. Before I left, with his business card in my hand and enough memories to fill up many dinner conversations, he asked me to look at the river and said; `The river will never change. The streets can change, the people can change and so will both of us. But this river will always look me in the eyes and remind me of every day lived by me and this café.' He had already moved on to the next guest. But I was forever, stuck in Hoi An, never to fully return.