My name is not Michael Caine but I may well be the next best thing. Namely, a person who has stayed in the same hostel in Hoi An as Michael Caine did during the filming of The Quiet American. Very Chinese, dark wood walls, floors and ceilings. Very nice, and how’s your father. ‘Allo. Thankfully the floodwaters have receded, but spare a thought for the forty people who drowned over the weekend. Hoi An has turned on the weather for us, large style. Have been spending time shopping (well, Sarah has mostly) and smiling away as the measuring ladies for some reason need to measure the distance from the front of my crotch to the back. A well-timed gasp and they’re all on the floor laughing. I learnt how to say “Will you marry me?” in Vietnamese but as Sarah had already learnt the word for “no” it’s of no real use to me. ‘Allo, fancy a pint? The local beer, Larou, is very nice. Last night I made an ass of myself when a guy who was giving a cooking class asked me if I was married and I took it the wrong way. This was after three Larous but unfortunately I don’t think that gives me a leg to stand on. Live and learn, as they say. Oi, Alfie, how’s about another one of those Larous? Lam vo anh nhe? Bugger off, mate.
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