Waking up at 6am after getting back at 2am was not a good plan, especially as Anjali was in the bathroom vomiting when the vomit monster took up residence in my stomach. The only option was the bin, but luckily it was lined. I tied it up afterwards, and it was a much better option than the bed. We headed to the bakery to get some plain bread, hoping this would soak up the alcohol and anything else remaining in my stomach, but my arrogance following the sickness disappeared when cold sweats stepped in and I had to rush for the hotel bathroom. There's nothing quite like holding onto a Cambodian toilet bowl for dear life at 7am.

The bus to Ho Chi Minh City took a stonking seven hours! We passed through the Vietnam border without any problems other than fending off the heat, and then watched Wanted, I think, on the bus TV. A Swiss woman was not happy with the choice of film and decided to air her views at the front of the bus, telling us Jesus died on the cross for us, and we were sinning by watching the film. It got turned off, which provoked a mini uproar from those watching it, and with the help of Cambodian Thea it was put back on - the Swiss woman didn't make another appearance.

Food didn't really feature today; sleep was a much better remedy, although I did manage to finish the baguette by about 4pm. We walked what was supposed to be 500m to the hotel, and after being told there 'was no booking' eventually got into our rooms for the final time. There was even a hair-drier so I treated myself, and wore my new blue earrings, although the walk downstairs knocked me for six as the heat ruined any style my hair had and sweat stepped back to the forefront of my appearance.Nice.

We walked to the restaurant, where alcohol was not on my menu, and had some Vietnamese rice paper do-it-yourself wraps. Off to a bar for one last drink together, where the staff hovered over your every move and thought that simply holding your money was a request for them to take it from you! Had one Saigon beer, and then opted for the water straight after! A bit of pool was played, and a scary Apocalypse Now-style man shook my hand regarding some kind of deal over pool, before he swiftly left and we watched as Bogdan and Tom went to a new set of girls. Everyone drifted away and we said our goodbyes before I had a final whiskey and sprite with Marc, which was okay on the first and deadly by the last. At 2am the last five of us headed home, but for some reason we went the wrong way, and as Marc was adamant he knew the way and didn't want to get in the taxi we walked after him. When we realised we were in the wrong we walked back toward the bar, when something brushed against me - it was a motorbike on the pavement that had spotted my little Sihanoukville bag and decided to whip it away. As I just had it at my side it was gone before I even looked down, the strap still on my shoulder. I didn't yell as I was in shock, and there was nothing I could do.Australian Marc tried to run after them when he realised but there was no point. I was very calm about it until American Marc had a go at me for not screaming - not what I wanted to hear, I was annoyed enough about not having the bag in my hands anyway, and for not wearing the strong bag that I'd bought specifically to avoid this happening again!

Tears appeared when the taxi arrived at the hotel, and I used Scott and Anjali's phones to call my banks and cancel the cards. Unfortunately I'd withdrawn two million dong as it was the first night of ten in Vietnam, so they'd gotten away with that as well as my lip balm, mirror, and those earrings I bought in Phnom Penh! Gutted.

A bad start to Vietnam, but it was my fault for learning from Zanzibar. Alas.