I couldn't find a photo of Nha Trang on the website so the one you see is actually from Turkmenistan. I'm sure its exacty the same. I have only been in Nha Trang 4 hours so I can't really comment on what its like, whether its to my taste or not, how long I think I'll stay here or whatever. But what I can tell you is that I definitely should have married that travel agents niece.

Ariel left me to fend myself in Hanoi for another whole day and a bit which was quite frankly, awful. I don't think it has much to offer at all apart from Pho. I love pho but when you eat it 4 times a day(no, seriously, I do do that) you might be pushing it a bit, no? The day after she left I met a spanish fella who was quite nice apart from the fact that he thought all the food in south east asia was s***. Why, why why why why the f*** would you bother coming here then? He has been eating oatmeal with cold milk and cashew nuts. That sounds like a f***ing laugh. That afternoon, I spent shouting down telephones and at Vietnamese Qantas reps. I had given myself 2 days to get my ticket extended. I was supposed to be flying out of Bangkok in 48 hours. This, I think you will agree, is ample time to get such a simple task done. But no, of course not, there are procedures. Procedures. What f***ing bulls***. Procedures; a word that people use when they are fresh out of Mickey Mouse club. First of all I called the Qantas office in Vietnam. They had no record of my ticket even existing despite knowing what my christian name was before I even told them. Thy told me to call my local office... I called Australia and London, which are, in fact, the same thing. I did this in the post office after dashing through some quite torrential rain. The phones barely worked. These Qantas offices also had no record of my ticket. When I asked them why, they hung up. I was ready to smash the handset through the glass and throw my shoes at people. I then called STA in the UK. They told me that what Qantas told me was effectively, a bunch of old cobblers and that they would look into it. The next 24 hours were hell. I had to wait for the time difference so I could call the UK again to make the changes with STA. To make things just a little more stressful, I had booked a train ticket to get to Hoi An which was leaving at 6pm. The earliest I could call STA was at 4.15pm local time. Oh, and I couldnt find a phone that worked. I eventually ended up at a local travel agent. After 20 minutes I couldnt get through cos it turns out STA were on the phone to Qantas telling them they were all d*** and had f***ed my plans up (or words to that effect). I used 4 different phones in the travel agent to make sure the phone was working. I ended up using the travel agents mobile. Absolute elation hit me when the changes were finally confirmed. I ran to an internet cafe and bought an insurance extension. I was booked for a later flight, had my ass covered and was getting the f*** out of Hanoi. It was pissing it down but never mind. I got a minibus to the bus station and the driver managed to lose my bags. I nearly lost my rag. It had been one hairy motherf***er of a stressful day. Sleeper bed on the bus and I was out. Gone.

Hoi An. I'm not going to go into detail about this. It was a mess. Albeit a nice mess. At times. Some local befriended me and took me to his uncles place, got me smashed on rice wine and his uncle asked me if I wanted to marry his daughter. His 17 year old daughter. Apparently age doesnt matter in Vietnam. Maybe that hadnt heard about Gary Glitter.

Next day, walked around. it was nice, even in the rain. Pho pho pho pho pho pho pho. Bar. Good crowd and then wrong crowd. Bad.

Following night better night although I had to keep a low profile during the day. Met some Irish girls who I promised I'd see on the bus the next day but obviously I didnt. We left the bar and got a motorbike back to our hotels. We told the drivers we wanted some food so at 4am we found ourselves on plastic stools in the rain, eating rice mush and what may have been dog.

No idea what I did the follwing day. Final day I knew I was out of there. Hoi An had drained me completely. Met a really cool Austrian girl but she was going the other direction to me. The whole single serving friend culture pisses me right off sometimes. I am Jack's medulla oblongata without me Jack could not regulate his heart rate, blood pressure or breathing. There's a whole series of these. I am Jack's nipple. I am Jack's colon. I am Jack's cold sweat.

Bus to Nha Trang was one of the most uncomfortable pieces of s*** ever made. If prison was on a bus, it probably would be a bit like the bus I sat on last night. I shared a row of 5 sleeper beds on the back row and upper tier of the bus. b******s. As we stopped for dinner, I noticed that it may have been International Let's Dress Incredibly Badly Day. Two Chinese blokes in their boxershorts and freebie t shirts. Terrible mc hammer pants in lime green. Socks AND sandals. Considering we had come from the tailoring capital of asia, people looked like s***. I dont know why I'm commenting on this. perhaps because I felt like Magic Johnson in a midget's coffin.

As Freddy Mercury said, now I'm here. And I'm f***ing hungry.