20 days since my last blog.. So sorry! I have meant to update it on several occasions recently but always either the computer plays up (useless piece of.. ) or theres someone around to distract me. How inconsiderate! So now I have no doubt that Ill miss out a bunch of the things Ive been meaning to write about. A lot of alcohol abuse has left my memory sadly lacking you see. But Ill start with today and see how I go..

Firstly, after much gazing at myself in the reflection of the motorcycle drivers crash helmet I have decided that I look damn cool in my aviators. They are my first pair and while I acknowledge that I look like a bit of a wannabe wearing them on the beach, on the back of a bike is obviously the arena they were intended for. I bought them in Hong Kong after seeing the same Armani ad campaign everywhere I looked (dont worry, theyre not Armani). I quite badly wanted to photograph myself in them going along on the bike today but the mechanics of getting my camera out of the rucksack on my back and not dropping a. the bag, b. the camera, c. my whole body onto the road, no that wouldnt have been smart.

I dont think getting motorbikes in Vietnam is smart at all actually. I only did today because there was no other way of getting from Vung Tau to Long Hai. Everywhere else I take a taxi (car) even though its 3 or 4 times the price and I feel like Lady La being driven around in it while whole families sometimes cram onto the back of one bike. But my first week in HCM I read the paper a lot and last week I met some trainee doctors, two very nice girls from Manchester, and between them theyve convinced me that its just not worth the risk. It is an amazing thing though the motorcycle culture here. Either they cant afford to care or they just dont care but I have seem mothers feeding babies (one occasion a bottle of milk, one occasion a carton of juice) whilst DRIVING motorbikes. My outfits are funny too - they wear long sateen gloves, up past the elbows to block out any sun and of course the pollution masks, usually in some kind of pink or pastel floral pattern and then appropriate motorbike riding footwear in Vietnam is either stiletto heels (the more plasticky the better) or flip flops, anything without a grip, sometimes they wear those socks with only a separator for the big toe, with flops to make sure that it is in fact a forgone conclusion that they will lose a shoe during the trip. If the sun shines, or the rain starts, it doesnt matter which, driver and passenger will cover themselves and passenger with a huge sheet of plastic (nicely trailing for that extra danger appeal). And then theres the cargo. Ive seen crates of beer piled 5 high, a giant room fan, a tv, a refrigerator, 3 bin bags full of rambutans, a selection of small children - all of these precariously balanced on the back of various bikes, tied on with a prayer..

There was maybe one other motorbike incident accually when Id had a beer or two and the snappy decison was reached to go to apocolypse, a club in HCMC. Everyone else got on bikes and nipped away so I got on one too, sidesaddle because I was wearing a mini, and I remember thinking as we drove along; 'this was a very very silly situation to put yourself in my girl'. Especially as the helmet didnt fit right. And Im not sure the skin of my arms and legs would offer much in the way of protection should there be a crash. Anyway when we arrived at the club the driver asked me if I wanted to buy some cocaine (??) or some, I dunno, ACT, AMD, A something or other, I didnt even know what it was. No thank you Mr Taxi man, I do not want to buy drugs from you, you are a scary man, move along now.. The Lonely Planet says apocolypse shows HCMC seamier side and its not wrong. Id actually put a bit of make up on for the occasion but still I had Id guess 400% less make up on than the Vietnamese women who were trying and sometimes succeeding in picking up very old, very ugly, and presumably very generous men. I had been quizzing my new friend, a Canadian named George, or Troy, seemed to depend on who he was talking to, on the whole paying asian women for ahem. Apparently as far as massage is concerned if you give the receptionist 50 dollars when you arrive, the girl knows what to do. Apparantely its very rare for them not to try, even if you did come in for a genuine massage. And in a club, George's experience seemed to be that in Asia there was no question of going home alone if you hadnt met another traveller you liked, you just paid for a local. None of this was really news, but the confirmation just cemented what I already know to be true; that men and women live in completely seperate universes.

Hmm, lots more still to write but an air conditioned hotel room is calling my name.. catch up with you later xx