In Nha Trang I started to vomit. I had taken far too many photos. They had got into my gut. There was nothing to do but lie low. I went to ground on a beach-head and tried digesting small portions of local colour. Finally I had strength enough to continue. At first, vision was restricted to familiar objects - (toothbrushes are very reassuring). I bought postcards of happy-go-lucky tribespeople cheerfully toothless in the face of poverty and discrimination. The going rate for smiles is two American dollars. We were much more careful with looking from then on.