We were awoken from an uncomfortable and frankly forgettable slumber at around 06:30 as our bus, lined from top to bottom with around 40 leather dentists chairs, and filled with around 40 tired and cramp ridden bodies, approached the city of Nha Trang along the waterfront road.

The sun had literally risen a matter of minutes ago from beneath the waters edge on the horizon, to signal the dawn of a new day, but already as you looked out of the window the whole area along the sea front was filled with people. They were all local people as well, not a foreigner in sight. Not at that ungodly hour. There were badminton games underway on the courts outlined on the pavements at the side of the road, volleyball on the beach, as well as a couple of games of football. A little more relaxed were the Thai Chi and Yoga sessions that were scattered around the grassy areas. Weaving amongst all of this were the runners as well as those just out for a morning stroll and enjoying the sunrise. It was a strange sight, seeing so many people out and awake so early, but it was refreshing at the same time.

After unfolding ourselves and exiting the bus we made our way to the hotel we had booked for our stay here, which was a short walk from the waterfront and 5 minutes or so from the main tourist area. We were told the city is one of the main holiday destinations for the Vietnamese, with its long stretches of beach, lined with coral reefs, the many bars and clubs, as well as the much sought after laid back atmosphere. It was nice enough but nothing special from what we could see at first sight to be honest. The main tourist area was similar in many ways to the kind of stereotype holiday towns you would find in Spain.

The majority of the first day was spent catching up on the sleep we missed out on during the overnight journey on the bus. We eventually awoke around mid-afternoon and headed down towards the tourist area to take a look around. First stop - as you may well have guessed - was somewhere to eat, and we settled on a reasonable looking place in the centre of the tourist area. The food, as the look of the place suggested, was reasonable, although you had to fight to get every gulp of food down in between spitting out the usual 'Com camon' to the array of local sellers pushing their heads and their fares through the plants to our left and practically onto our plates.

The same people come back to you time and again as well, within the space of minutes, as if your going to suddenly greet them with the announcement that, yes! thank god your back, that's just the piece of crap I've been waiting all of my life to find. I didn't want it ten minutes ago but now, now is the time. Now I just HAVE to have it. Their only earning a living, I keep telling myself.

There are supposedly a few things to see here in Nha Trang, including the giant seated Buddha that sits atop of a hill towards the back of the town offering commanding views of the area. Shockingly we didn't actually bother with any of the sights (they didn't sound all that interesting), and the only thing of any note that happened during the main part of the second day here was my insistence on a stroll to the local market that was situated a 15 minute walk from our hotel, in the opposite direction to the tourist area. My idea, which I believed to be a good one, was to have a look around the market and then buy some incredibly cheap (and hopefully tasty) local food.

The walk to the market progressed with Aimee declaring that it was more of a hike than a stroll. For the record, it wasn't. Although I did have to check the map a few times to ensure that we were still heading in the right direction, which brought about much huffing from Aimee at my lack of certainty. We did eventually arrive at the market to find that they sold all sorts, pretty much everything - except food. There was nothing evident in the way of food, as the guidebook had suggested. The mirage of deliciousness, of locally prepared food that I was expecting, was nowhere to be seen. We were both hungry by now and Aimee had the hump. It was official. We gave up on the market and in our desperation we also gave up on our search for traditional local fare, finding ourselves instead, taking a seat in a small restaurant/café next to our hotel. We dined on Burgers and the good old English classic of Ham Egg and Chips.

Afterwards Aimee felt better.

So, after failing to find anything to capture our imagination here in Nha Trang we decided to head south, back out of the city after the two nights that we had already booked in the hotel, towards the mountain city of Dalat. Our plan was to get a bus there and then arrange an 'Easy Rider' tour of the city. As I say, that was the plan.

During our travels we had spoken to a few people that had mentioned the Easy Rider tours, giving them glowing reviews. They're basically motorbike tours that take you off the beaten track and into 'the real Vietnam' as they call it. We looked into them to find that they cost $65 per person, per day. Well above our budget. We both wanted to do it though so had settled on the compromise of the day tour in Dalat for a more reasonable cost of $25 pppd.

That plan went out of the window though on our second night, as we were walking through the tourist area, minding our own business on the way back to the hotel.
Just then, a local man in his mid-forties, of average build and height, pulled up just in front of us on his motorbike and removed his helmet before firing his obviously rehearsed stereotype London phrases at us. We couldn't help but laugh, mainly at his thick Vietnamese accented take on the cockney dialect. He obviously wanted our attention and he duly got it.

His name: Papa Hanh.

Papa Hanh, we were to discover, ran a tour business surprisingly named 'Papa Hanhs', that specialised in Easy Rider tours. He then came at us with a series of quick-fire, one-two style sales pitches that quite honestly caught us off guard and left us open mouthed. We attempted to resist his enthusiastic speil but before we knew what was happening we found ourselves sat in his office, video's of the tour playing out in front of us, comment books from previous customers in one hand and Papa Hanh's mobile phone in the other - with what I guessed was an Aussie guy on the other end - who happened to currently be on the tour we were now considering. We looked at each other, rather pitifully, in the limp hope of drawing further resistance from each other. It was useless though, we both wanted to do it, it was only the thought of the money that was stopping us. The thought though, that we might never again be back here with the chance to do it forced its way to the front of my mind and then, finally, we succumbed to the Papa and signed up for the 3 day, 2 night tour from Nha Trang to Dalat.

Apparently (as I learnt from the Aussie on the phone) Papa Hanh was one of the original members of the first Easy Rider group that began in Dalat, but thanks to the lack of anything resembling copyright laws in Vietnam, nowadays every man and his dog - if they own a bike - has their own Easy Rider tour. Papa Hanh also offered the tour for $50 pppd, which was a little better than the previous quotes we had been given.

What a great name by the way. Papa Hanh. You've gotta love it. Almost fatherly, offering a reassuring touch, and yet cool, all at the same time.

So anyway, the Papa wanted some kind of deposit to ensure that our booking was complete. Unfortunately I had next to no money on me. No problem. Next thing I knew I was stood outside the shop, with the Papa in front of me on his bike, indicating that I get on the back. Now, so you know, I have not been on a bike - of the motor variety - for something like 14 years. And that was only on the back to the top of a hill. I am a bike novice in every possible way.

Not wanting to seem like a girl though (English pride was at stake), I calmly walked towards the bike and in one movement, thrust my left leg upwards and forwards in a kind of unbalanced and stabbing karate kick motion, in an attempt to straddle the bike. It didn't work. My foot caught something on route and I kind of stumbled backwards, grabbing at a bewildered looking Papa's shirt to steady myself. I caught a pitying glance from the Papa as well as the group of his staff congregated behind us as I dusted myself down for a second attempt. This time I opted to circle the bike, coming in from the other side. With one text book round-house swing of the right leg I was on the back, nestled behind the Papa.

Now the thought occupying my mind was: "what do I hold onto?"

He didn't wait for me to assess the options as he pulled the throttle back to send the bike - and us - hurtling forward towards the nearest cash point. Now I'm not ashamed to admit that with my lack of motorbike experience and distinct lack of balance, I was flustered. Alarm bells were ringing in my head. Alarm bells behind images of me flopping off one side of the bike as we turned a corner, or other such tragic yet comical incidents.

Then I did it. I gripped Papa's waist with both hands. Like a girl. I actually felt a sordid kind of shame as we rounded the first corner with me clinging to the Papa's shirt. The kind of shame that makes you feel a little less of a man. After a few minutes I couldn't take the shame any longer and went it alone, releasing my vice-like grip and trusting my own, flawed, sense of balance. The Papa must have been wondering what kind of idiot he was unlucky enough to stumble upon this fateful night.

We eventually located a cash point that actually contained cash - which isn't as easy as it sounds in Nha Trang over a weekend - paid the Papa the deposit and headed off to the hotel, thankfully still in one piece, to prepare for our departure, which was set for 08:30 the following morning…