1st September

Following the previous day's antics I felt deserving of a lie-in, and awoke slowly, painfully and reluctantly quite late on in the morning. A simple breakfast of toast, jam, and some fluid that claimed to be papaya juice but could quite possibly have been sewer water was apparently all we were going to get, which just left the tasks of packing the bags, placing them down on the bikes, and securing them tightly to do before setting off.

Or, at least, that was the plan. I got to my bike, saw that it was a bit lacking in enthusiasm after it's epic journey the day before, expressed most significantly by an absence of air in the rear wheel, and sighed quite loudly. My foot brake pedal was also in need of bashing back into shape after a small argument with a stationary vehicle the day before, so we decided to get a mechanic to fix everything. Some more conversations with the reception staff and we were taken to a very jovial mechanic not far from the hotel. He looked at my bike with glee. Tris' bike looked fine but wouldn't start, so between us we waited for an hour and a half while the wide-mouthed, grinning mechanic set about his morning's work.

By way of a greeting, the mechanic volunteered in broken English "You handsome man" aimed in Tris' general direction. When a man with some blackened teeth (and those lucky enough not to be blackened giving off a remarkably dull nicotine / exhaust fume coated yellow) calls you handsome I'm not sure it can be taken as that much of a compliment. The state of teeth in this country is generally awful. Some of the younger generation, the girls especially, have taken it upon themselves to keep a full set, but by far the majority of Vietnamese have some missing, and those that are still there are hard to look at without wincing. As there are quite obviously no dentists (at least no good ones) available to the majority of Vietnamese, I guess the primary method for identifying a victim in a "homicide" wouldn't be by matching dental records, but rather by holding up a dulux paint chart and matching the colour of the teeth off on the primrose through eggshell shades. The further up the chart they go, the younger they must be...

The wait did have it's plus side. I was able to find a shop that sold me a pair of fingerless gloves for the cheap cheap price of 70,000d, and spent quite some time fitting my fingers through the various holes, attempting not to burst any of the blisters which still occupied most of the space on the back of my hands. After confirming that they would be splendidly useful for the job in hand (as it were), I then reversed the delicate operation and set about re-applying the Daewoo wondercream with (careful) vigour, taking my various medications and staying in the shade.

The receptionist was a big help, he translated (slowly but unsurely) the various mumblings and outbursts of laughter of the mechanic into something approaching English for us, and seemed genuinely pleased to be able to practice a foreign language. He was especially interested in keeping the conversation going, and at one point asked how old I was and whether at my age I should have a wife, as he seemed rather nervous to be approaching 26 himself and still be unmarried. Perhaps it had something to do with his teeth...

An exasperating 480,000d later we were ready to go. With my bags firmly strapped to the back of my bike, the wheels inflated, engine started, oil changed, sunglasses perched, hood up, helmet on and gloves nice and sweaty already, we set off ever upwards to where we were aiming to have been the night before - Hoi An. The roads were not as good, the going was slower, but we made it to the town in just less than 3 exhausting hours of concentration, direct sunlight, a distinct lack of signposts, pulsing wind and a several lungfuls of hot exhaust fumes. But the scenery was beautiful. We crossed over many bridges which gave magnificent views of the rivers below, of fisherman reeling in their nets by hand as they squatted impossibly on the tip of the bow of their thin boats, of blue-painted junks moored by the hundred in sleepy bays, of the rich red waters of one river colliding with the tame blue of another as they began to flow together in an oddly colourful transition, and of local life being played out in it's timeless simplicity below, oblivious to the two foreigners speeding by, trying to take it all in, only a few hundred feet above.

Hoi An is off the map. Well, it's on the map, but due to the incredibly consistent work done by the signpost department of Vietnam, you would never find it if you didn't stop at each junction in the road and ask someone which fork to take to get there. It is certainly not logical! We found it eventually, just where the locals said it would be, and trundled down the main high street looking for the hotel we'd booked. We found it, again eventually, at the far end of town. Seeing as we had three days in Hoi An, we decided to head for a more central, more expensive option, and found the good people at Hotel Ha An very accommodating. The room was spectacularly pristine, a real shock after the places we had become accustomed to, with a japanese feel to the decoration - white pebbles in the shower, and fresh flower petals on all crisp white linen. The complete opposite to how I looked - a muddy, exhausted, exhaust-fumed face more black than burnt.

The aim of the extended stay in Hoi An was simple. Tailored suits. Hoi An is a small town, mostly populated with shops for tourists, and most of those willing and able to size you up and sell you something that fits. Perfectly. We headed for Yaly at the recommendation of the receptionist, and found it exceptionally busy, even at half past six in the evening. After some careful deliberation and thoughtful perusal of various photos of suits the staff had managed to extract from any and every magazine that came their way, I decided on my material, pattern, style and colour, and was awarded the full assistance of a terrifically attentive young girl for my efforts. Alice her name was, though most of the staff referred to her as "Alic", so it was possibly westernised for ease!

I ordered an overjacket, suit, and 4 shirts, got measured extensively, paid a deposit, signed something, and went looking for Tris, thinking it was high time to get some food. Tris had other ideas. Fully engaged in making his own helper (Nancy) work incredibly hard answering all sorts of questions that hadn't even popped into my head, he emerged several hours later full of details of stitching, lining, and lapel information I had no idea was even customisable. We were to come back the next morning for a fitting, and then they would be ready to wear. A fully tailored outfit in less than a few hours! God knows how many people were stitching away up in the rafters to get that done...