Vientiane

The train a mere hour and a half late. Borders, visas, multiple queues and tuk tuks - together with every other tourist crossing.

It is Sunday afternoon. Vientiane dozes. Hardly a dog rolls over.

I try the local massage: thoroughly pinched all over and daubed violently with a hot tea-scented sponge. And then she tells me I'm sexy. . . Not an experience to be repeated.