Beautiful hotels exist all over the world.
Beautiful rooms. Beautiful pools. Beautiful restaurants.
But when I travel, I have always believed the real story of a destination often begins when you walk out through the front door.
While staying at Silk Sense Resort in Hoi An, Vietnam, I borrowed one of the hotel's bicycles and went exploring.
I wasn't looking for a tourist attraction. I didn't have a guide or an itinerary. I wanted to see what was around the resort.
About 300 metres away, I noticed a small handwritten sign attached to a tree.
Bait fish. Boat rental. Rowing. Fishing. Beverages.
I stopped. That tiny sign changed my entire experience of Hoi An.
A question led to an invitation
I met the family who lived there and, through their children, managed to explain a slightly unusual request.
I asked whether I could hire their boat — not for fishing and not for sightseeing — but to go out on the river at 5:15 the following morning, just before sunrise, so I could photograph their world waking up.
We agreed on a price. The next morning I arrived in darkness.
No tour buses. No tourist boats. No organised experience.
Just a small wooden boat, the river and the people who live and work there.
5:15am
As the first light appeared, the river slowly revealed itself.
Fishermen moved quietly across the water. Nets and traps were stacked high in working boats. Old structures stood above the water. Houses, restaurants and vegetation hugged the riverbanks.
And standing at the front of my boat was the woman I had met the previous day, rowing us through it all.
Then the sun came up.
For a photographer, it was extraordinary.
Not because somebody had arranged it for me.
Because nobody had.
It was simply life happening.
The woman on the river
She became the centre of the story.
At times she was illuminated by the soft blue light before sunrise. Minutes later she became a silhouette against an extraordinary orange sky.
Her floral clothing, the weathered wooden boat, the river, the palm trees and the early morning light created photographs I could never have planned from a hotel room.
This wasn't a model.
This wasn't a styled tourism shoot.
This was a woman taking me through the place she calls home.
And then breakfast
When we returned, I thought the experience was finished.
Instead, the couple invited me to stay.
They offered me breakfast.
Her husband proudly showed me their little home and garden. He showed me his banana trees. We laughed, talked as best we could and eventually made a photograph together.
There is also a photograph of me standing between them.
For me, that picture is just as important as the beautiful sunrise photographs.
Because photography gave me something more valuable than access.
It gave me a connection.
Only 300 metres from the resort
That is the part of the story I keep thinking about.
This entire experience was around 300 metres from the resort where I was staying.
Hundreds of guests could stay there, enjoy the room, pool, restaurant and spa, and perhaps never know this little world existed almost next door.
And that has changed the way I think about hotel and resort photography.
A hotel's story doesn't have to stop at its property line.
A guest isn't simply choosing a room.
They're choosing where that room can take them.
Beyond the Hotel
When I photograph a hotel or resort, naturally I want to photograph the architecture, rooms, restaurants, pools, staff and details beautifully.
But I also want to ask:
What happens outside?
Who lives nearby?
Where do people eat?
What happens at sunrise?
What do the streets look like?
What does the local market sound like?
Who are the people a guest might meet?
What landscape surrounds the property?
Those images give a hotel something different.
They don't simply show guests where they will sleep.
They show them what they might experience.
And sometimes, the strongest photograph in a hotel campaign may be made 300 metres from the hotel.
