I take the early morning bus to Hoi An, a city famed for its tailoring industry. Having been fitted for a nice cashmere suit I became dimly aware and somewhat troubled by the fact that it would almost certainly not fit me once I returned from traveling. I found it strange that despite the fact that I was consuming about as much food on a daily basis as the average South East Asian family, I was perpetually losing weight. With several tiny Vietnamese girls crawling over me, tugging and pulling at the suit, one of them was even standing up on a stool just to reach my shoulder, I decided I`d rather just get it over with and would worry it later. After several, what would ultimately be futile, back and forths over the next two days for refittings, eventually I was presented with a fancy cashmere suit to be posted home.
Hoi An itself is impressible picturesque, on the banks of a river with many restaurants specialising in colonial era French cuisine. Walking back in the orange sodium lite haze to the hotel through the deserted market drove a furious scurrying of rats ahead of me. In my room I lay on the bed watching the lizards moving in their funny stop start weaving motion along the ceiling before drifting off to sleep.
I spend the next day wandering around the market places and the old city. My hair had become impressively dishevelled and I finally managed to get it cut. The following day myself and Swiss Andy are back on the road to Vietnam`s beach bum city of Natrang. The bus journey is predictably horrible despite managing to seize the largest bed at the back. It turned out to be a poisoned chalice anyway, it was a stinking fetid mess enseamed with the crusty filth of several decades of grimy travellers. I arrived early in the morning in Natrang with tales of roving bands of youths robbing unwary tourists with tasers ringing in my ears.