"One of our T-shirts is Missing."

OK guys, Basil is somewhat suppressed, I'll agree, but this country does that to you after a while. What they lack in money and infrastructure they make up for in charm. Mosly in smiles. It's very difficult not to respond in kind when every woman you come across is beaming from ear to ear. Indeed, the people who inhabit the Salmon Leap would not recognise the miserable ani-social retired git who prefers to sit in the beer garden reading obscure sci-fi books rather than join in on an enlightening argument about the merits of the local football club. At the end of our sojourn we are again in Saigon, waiting for a flight out and reminiscing over the people we have met. The lovely Nhung in the Bamboo Bar in Da Nang who taught us how to say "please", "thank you" and "how much" properly in Vietnamese (which even now remains the sum total of my fluency) and who surprised the other predator males in the bar by giving us (yes, Linda was there before you wonder) her mobile number. The incredibly efficient Cem in the Orchid (by far the best hotel we stayed at) who told us "we were the nicest tourists" and gave Linda a hug when we left and solemnly shook my hand before laughing at my reaction. In the Vinh Hung III hotel in Hoi An, the capable Emily kept grabbing me an apologiesd profusely for losing my Galapagos T-shirt over a laundry mix up. She was so worried we'd put a bad report in Tripadvisor (that website has so much power over here) that she'd phoned the guy who had my T-shirt (I now possess his -- not as good of course) who had left at 0700 that morning and arranged for him to ship it back from wherever he was (around 500 km upcountry, I gather). Didn't make it by the time we left but I am left feeling guilty for causing so much trouble. Even the damned peddlers who hassle you for sitting at the street entrances of the cafes we frequented make you feel guilty: softly smiling and saying in perfectly-practised English, "I know you are going to say 'no" but before you do could I just show you what I have please?". You know it will be exactly what the last woman or child had 10 minutes earlier and 10 minutes before that but you still feel like twenty kinds of asshole for not giving her a measily 60p for a knickknack. The problem is, everyone in an average Vietnamese hotel will smile at you: the serving girls practice smiling and saying "Good morning. How are you? Did you sleep well?". The room cleaners stop and smile as you go by. Everyone greets you as you go in and leave. Compare that to the fact you are lucky the average person in the English service industry barely condescends to acknowledge your miserable existence when you are paying anything up to 10 times the price for the same service and you wonder why I am turning into a nice(r), happ(ier) person over here? Don't worry, it can't last.

Still, even an infusion of happiness didn't stop me from going into Paranoid Overdrive when we exited Saigon Airport. I'd done some research into taxi scams on this site and what it says didn't make me feel much better. I'm sure Mike knows all about this stuff and, now, so do we!! Following the good advice and not acting like a senile old fool got us back to the Elios Hotel without misshap. I confess I didn't plan this last section of the tour too well. Having been here before what I should have done is booked a transfer direct from Da Nang through Saigon airport to Bangkok. Instead we've got a whole day to kill and another bloody early start tomorrow to get back to Chez Cav. So, it looks like wasting time in the bars ad restaurants in An Lac alley until we can go to bed. Life's hard sometimes . . .