A good place to meet the rare breed of fat Vietnamese, the massage parlour employs towels that barely make the little path around my 30” waist. I think the massage is the best luxury money can buy in the developing world.
The massage girl smiled and said hi, in an erotic tone. Over the next hour I discovered that it was the only tone she knew. The conversation was plain and she massaged like mad, with the precision of a surgeon. Sometimes she stood on me, sometimes she sat, sometimes she sat beside.