A slow ferry morning and an unnecessarily perfect fish ball noodle soup
The best thing about that part of town is that nothing there needs to perform "harbor atmosphere" for you. It simply has one. Ropes, paint, damp railings, folded awnings, fish tanks, stacked crates. Even the tea at breakfast tastes faintly of the pier.
The noodles were good in the exact way neighborhood food is supposed to be good: specific, unshowy, impossible to improve by explaining them too much.