So we dash back on the bus from Ha Long to hump around Hanoi a bit to bring the formal tour to an end.

We visit the Hanoi Hilton; the nickname given by the captured GI's to the central prison in Hanoi. Weirdly, only one wing has been preserved, and the rest of the site was sold off and built into a massive office block, hence the picture.

Sue, one of our party, actually works for the prison service in the UK, and she regales us with descriptions of the holiday camp that is a British prison. Next time I need a holiday, it sounds like I should just do a bit of burglary instead. Uh-oh. I've gone all Daily Mail. Change of subject required.

So we go over to the temple of literature, a very old school, old school, having been set up in 1010. It is beautiful, particularly the dozen's of stone turtles with what look like engraved tombstones on their backs. This was how exam results were published 'back in the day' if you were the offspring of the king or one of the mandarins.

That evening we were to say goodbye to Chi, so much was drunk, despite Hanoi's strict licensing laws stopping bars from serving after 11pm.

Finest moment was when we were sitting in the rooftop bar at the north end of the lake in the centre of Hanoi (around which Tai Chi is practised by many locals each morning).

In his quiet voice, Chi suddenly piped up and said firmly, "Heavy rain. Soon" and ran. More than one second, and less than two seconds later a bone dry night turned into a thunderous downpour. This was not Peter Kay's "that really fine rain that soaks you through". Dear me, no. This was biblical. This was the sky falling in. God being angry when the shop was out of frogs and locusts.

We moved quickly once it had started, but just covering a few yards was enough for the rain to refill our glasses. Sadly not with the original beverage.

How did Chi know? We grilled him on how he had spider sense and whether he could see the future. (And asked him to predict the next day's lottery numbers). "Don't know. Just know." was his enigmatic response.

To the last, this little man was as quietly compelling as Mr Miyagi.