But everyone is getting up. Weve been in Vietnam for five days and were strongly advised that waking early is worth the effort.
Our unsympathetic sergeant-major is Frank Franko OBrien. Convincing in the role, the Geelong tourism operator was a lieutenant-colonel before he promoted himself to Vietnam tour escort.
We first experienced the full force of his pre-sunrise enthusiasm on Day Two. On this day it closer to 3am and still uncomfortably warm in sticky southern Vung Tau, a pumping coastal party town for wealthy Ho Chi Minh City residents.
Our tour group is here to catch a bus. As the temperature climbs to the mid-30s, we wind along dirt tracks through uniform groves of rubber trees. No signage or fanfare marks our destination when we arrive, only a row of silent buses and a still-dark path into eerie lines
In a small clearing about 300 people – Australians and Kiwis, many relatives of Vietnam War veterans – have gathered around a white cross.
No uniforms, no medals. The Last Post crackles from a tape deck, then the Anzac Day dawn service is over at Long Tan, where 18 Australians were killed on August 19, 1966.
Now in daylight, and moved to wakefulness, we make the hot walk back to the bus, and the bemused local tree-tappers go back to work.
Franko served in Vietnam in 1969-70 and has been coming back since 1989.
With local guide Zen, he takes six tours a year from Ho Chi Minh to Hanoi on the 1726km stretch of railway known as the Reunification Express.
Geeral train passengers often suffer long delays, unreliable airconditioning and crowded conditions. Franko makes sure the carriages for his customers are comfortable, and he runs them with military precision.
The sleeper cabin and dining car have their own staff and own airconditioning.
What Buddhists believe
In Ho Chi Minh City – Frank still calls it Saigon – the Saigon Continental Hotel is the perfect window into a crazy world.
On paper, a scheduled lesson in crossing roads looks a bit ridiculous. But after standing helpless on a kerb for 10 minutes, this tutorial bestows the power to part the relentless swarm of scooters, even if life does still flash briefly before your eyes.
Some local knowledge goes a long way in these parts, and exuberant Vietnamese will flood you with it.
Surrounded by curling smoke at the first of many temples, storyteller Zen dumbs down Buddhist beliefs for our benefit: You ve seen Ghost, the movie? Demi Moore? Thats what Buddhists believe.
Fed and with a couple of Tigers already in the tank – Tiger beers, that is – weve survived five days in Vietnam from Long Tan to the Mekong Delta and around Saigon.
Tailor-made clothes and shoes
The next morning were in a different world.
Nha Trang is beachside, 450km north of Ho Chi Minh City, and a laidback break from the frantic metropolis. Day and night a snaking line of bars serve drinks to customers on deck chairs in the sand.
But again, its early mornings that pay dividends. At sunrise, many residents gather on the beach for daily sports. Unco-ordinated grandmas ease through their tai chi moves as boys dive about in a game of volleyball.
Another night on the train, and the tempo eases again where the brown Thu Bon River meets the ocean at historic Hoi An.
Hotels here have complimentary bikes and visitors take full advantage of the chance to freewheel around the wide, tree-lined streets.
Hoi An was once the nations major port. Now almost every other shop in town offers tailor-made clothes and shoes.
From Da Nang to Hue, our first daylight trip, we hang out of the dining carriage windows taking snaps where the spectacular Hai Van Pass meets the coastline.
Broad, green stalks of corn brush the train windows and the panorama distracts from the perilous lean of the train around the bends.
# Vietnam Travel Guide The Source