We took a sleeper coach from Hoi An and headed south to the seaside town of Quy Nhon.
Suffice to say that, if you are six foot-plus, good luck in getting comfortable in bunks tailor made to accommodate smaller passengers.
It was a rotten few hours.
Talk about sleep deprivation, there was either a Vietnamese comedy show or music blaring at full volume.
And the driver was a would-be racer jabbing on the brakes and constantly beeping his hooter.
When we stopped for a convenience break the communal toilets were a right hole.
And a hole is exactly what you found in the loo, as well as a knackered bottom washer gun and no paper.
When we arrived at Quy Nhon we practically kissed the warm ground like a pair of popes, we were so glad to be there.
It was then just a matter of getting a Grab taxi, which arrived in an instant, and going to our next temporary stay.
That comprised of Song Suoi homestay, where we were welcomed by a nice young couple and their kids.
After settling into a small but comfortable third floor room, with AC, fan, TV and attached shower room, we hit the sack.
In the morning, we headed out into blistering 33c heat and discovered a massive, deserted, beautiful sandy beach.
It was a bit surreal; great beach, no people, just us.
Or so Ben thought.
When he took a swim in sea as warm as a bath he spotted a guy in the surf a fair distance away who seemed to be handling a fishing line.
Moments later the catch of the day was very nearly a great white lump wearing Budgie Smugglers as Ben found himself caught in a massive drag net.
A scream of ‘No!’ rang out from the fisherman, an escape was made, and an international fishing war was thus averted.
For us Quy Nhon served as a beach breather on our Vietnam adventure.
Everywhere we went people were friendly and kids love to say hello.
Though we found few English speakers, many cafe staff had phone apps in which you can scan menus to understand what Vietnamese delights were cooking.
The place does seem to offer an honest look at life in Vietnam, with women crouched off pavements cooking and washing pans, scooter workshops and beggars asking diners for help.
We did find the searing temperature very wearing.
Little surprise, then, we were told people visit the beach at 5am before the sun makes the sand as hot as a wok.
And we discovered for ourselves a vibrant local nightlife, where people bring picnics and karaoke machines to the dark park and belt out pop songs in competition to the never ending crescendo of scooter motors on the grand boulevard.
Apparently it is the kind of place affluent Vietnamese couples retire to.
They spend their last days ocean-gazing and promenade-walking.
It sure beats the hell out of Eastbourne.
Bai Xep
As an added bonus, a 20-minute drive takes you to lovely Bai Xep bay.
Here the warm sea laps onto soft powdery sand, interspersed by rocks with rock pools.
We grabbed a pair of sunbeds and lapped up the rays before having some food and drink in a hotel for the bed rental.
It was hard to leave.
Trains, coaches and automobiles
We extended our stay in Quy Nhon, at the very nice Song Suoi homestay.
For one thing, our hosts there were very accommodating and nothing was a problem for them.
The main reason was we ditched a sleeper coach to get to seaside town Mui Ne in favour of a sleeper train.
That was because bunks in the sleeper coaches we had experienced were too small for us and the train ones were a bit bigger.
We climbed into Carriage 9 of the train and went straight to bunks 19 and 20, which were both on top.
Our fellow passengers in the bunks below were a non-English speaking local chap on one side and his wife and small daughter on the other side.
So began what should have been a 12-hour cool AC slumber as the train rumbled through the black, balmy night fringing endless rice fields.
Sleep proved to be, however, elusive.
We had bunked in with Vietnam’s undisputed snoring champion.
Combined with that, the train bumped and rattled along in an incessant crashing of big bangs which gave the impression it could fall to bits at any second.
Which is exactly what it did.
It only took four hours for someone to decide to transfer all passengers from the exploded express to a new train.
Thank God, we thought, a reprieve from trial by sleep deprivation!
So deep in the early hours everyone got their rucksacks and shopping, shuffled off the lame loco and hobbled to about eight road coaches sent to get us.
We smugly avoided the sleeper coach variety only to be reunited with Vietnam’s undisputed snoring champion who, thank goodness, was temporarily roused from his raucous.
With that, and fighting for positions like the first corner of an F1 race, our coach convoy pelted on into the night and we made it to a station where another train was waiting.
Passengers maintained the same berths, but by this time we were so tired that fatigue trumped snoring and we caught some rest before alighting at our designated stop.
And there all was good with the world again.
We grabbed a taxi to our hotel, Dynasty resort, where friendly receptionists upgraded our room to one looking over a lovely pool and sea.
It was then back to the sunbeds for a brief stop over, before we pressed on to final destination Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon).
