'Owwww!' I roar in agony as the Vietnamese girl applies the chemical to my wound. 'Stopppp!', I bellow in pain. Not in a Viet Cong POW camp, my current surroundings are markedly different. I had decided to avail of one of the cheap foot treatment options as after nearly two months of travelling, my feet did not look unlike the surface of Mars. The girl had started off well, wielding the implement blade with skill, erasing all traces of trekking the Banana Pancake trail off my well worn trotters. She had suddenly become distracted though- more than likely by my looks- and managed to nick my foot, then came the blood. She then proceeded to take a bottle full of a yellowish substance and douse the cut with it. Well I've never prayed so much for the sweet release of death in that instant,as I literally roared in agony and rose 6 inches off my seat. After repeating this several times, she had thank god, completed the job. As I handed over my 100 Dong and limped out onto the street I vowed to bear the brunt of blistery, red, sore feet for the duration of my travels rather than endure that camp... I mean spa again.

Residing in Nha Trang now, not a bad spot to kick up the sore foot fir a few days. Pulsing bars and restaurants, long pristine beaches, and beaming sunshine. Yes, it could be any European tourist resort, but I could think of worse things to wake up to. The hawkers are the most difficult thing. You cannot walk down the street without being harangued and offered cigarettes/paintings/sunglassess/bracelets, and don't get me started on the Easy Rider tours. I woke up in the middle of the night last night in a cold sweat repeating to myself 'Moto? Where you go? Where you from? You buyo something? Happy hour! Where you go, where you go! Cheap cheap!'

Going sailing in the morning onf a catamaran for the first time since the RCYC days. The following dy we take a tour of the surrounding islands which have an aquarium and a waterpark.

I'd better go apply my Aloe Vera, the tummy is red/pink, raw, and angry. She's a cruel mistress. As my street vendor friends say: 'I see you lata mate!'