I'd been forewarned, so felt quite prepared as we crossed the road from the Sailing Club to start the short walk home to our hotel last night. Sure enough, on almost every street corner there was a small cluster of girls intent on persuading you onto the back of a motorcycle to be whisked away for a 'massage'.
We negotiated this gauntlet with relative ease. My travelling companion, having lengthened his stride and speed almost from the off, was now accelerating in the direction of the fluorescent sign of our hotel leaving me trailing in his wake.
In the yawning gap between us, a motorbike carrying a man and a woman sidled up to me; the young lady hopped off and within seconds had her arms wrapped around me in what I suspect she thought was an irresistibly enticing manner. While she rattled off a menu of services that would be available to me within a minute's ride, I did my best to disentangle myself from her wandering hands. Up until this point I had kept my gaze steadfastly on my destination and my friend's receding figure. As I raised my arms to further distance myself from the situation - and her grasp - I turned to look at my erstwhile temptress. I was taken aback to find that she was a 'He' in a wig and a skirt and not particularly convincing. My surprise must have shown; in an instant her ardour evaporated and she was back on the bike muttering something along the lines of, 'you don't know what you're missing'. I was to find out later.
I caught up with my friend and after thanking him for not coming to my rescue, relayed the events as I had seen them. I gave full weight to my own ability to spot a 'lady boy' when I see one and nevertheless marvelled at how anyone - even someone without my ability to spot a misplaced Adam's Apple - could possibly be persuaded to succumb to such crass advances.
With his/her parting words still echoing down the street I stuck my hand in my pocket to retrieve my room key, only to find that all the dollars I had been carrying in both pockets of my trousers had disappeared. Thankfully I still had my room key, and thoughtfully, a few low denomination Vietnamese notes. A tart with a heart, after all - and much more besides.
To be fair, the lonely planet's advice in it's chapter on Nha Trang says that it's generally a safe place but they have heard reports of people being robbed after dark on the beach and the immediate beach road 'D Tran Phu'. I guess I was just unlucky.
We negotiated this gauntlet with relative ease. My travelling companion, having lengthened his stride and speed almost from the off, was now accelerating in the direction of the fluorescent sign of our hotel leaving me trailing in his wake.
In the yawning gap between us, a motorbike carrying a man and a woman sidled up to me; the young lady hopped off and within seconds had her arms wrapped around me in what I suspect she thought was an irresistibly enticing manner. While she rattled off a menu of services that would be available to me within a minute's ride, I did my best to disentangle myself from her wandering hands. Up until this point I had kept my gaze steadfastly on my destination and my friend's receding figure. As I raised my arms to further distance myself from the situation - and her grasp - I turned to look at my erstwhile temptress. I was taken aback to find that she was a 'He' in a wig and a skirt and not particularly convincing. My surprise must have shown; in an instant her ardour evaporated and she was back on the bike muttering something along the lines of, 'you don't know what you're missing'. I was to find out later.
I caught up with my friend and after thanking him for not coming to my rescue, relayed the events as I had seen them. I gave full weight to my own ability to spot a 'lady boy' when I see one and nevertheless marvelled at how anyone - even someone without my ability to spot a misplaced Adam's Apple - could possibly be persuaded to succumb to such crass advances.
With his/her parting words still echoing down the street I stuck my hand in my pocket to retrieve my room key, only to find that all the dollars I had been carrying in both pockets of my trousers had disappeared. Thankfully I still had my room key, and thoughtfully, a few low denomination Vietnamese notes. A tart with a heart, after all - and much more besides.
To be fair, the lonely planet's advice in it's chapter on Nha Trang says that it's generally a safe place but they have heard reports of people being robbed after dark on the beach and the immediate beach road 'D Tran Phu'. I guess I was just unlucky.