Our 'holiday from our holiday' in Thailand began and ended on Ko Samui. We arrived (the first time) exhausted from our intense temple-visiting trip to Siem Reap, in need of a break, a chance to recharge our batteries. I wasn't sure quite what to expect from it, having heard everything from “it's not the same as it was, it's just so commercial” (world-weary travellers) to “it's amazing, a real-getaway” (holidaymakers) and everything inbetween.

I have to say, I side with the holidaymakers. As we arrived at Ko Samui airport, I instantly felt like I was on holiday. In a film. Golf buggies collected us from the plane and took us to the 'airport,' constructed from wooden huts. All it needed was some calypso music and some men in flowered shirts and the impression would have been complete.

We were staying on Mae Nam Beach, a world away from the 24 hour bars, McDonalds and Boots of Chaweng Beach, home of the afore-mentioned gap-year kid (or so we believe, we didn't actually venture to Chaweng ourselves to find out). It really was island paradise: clear turquoise sea, simmering heat, the peaks of Ko Phangan visible across the water. Walking on the beach on our first evening, as the sun was setting, it was hard to imagine a more picturesque scene.

Our stay was divided into 2 parts: the first 2 days marked the beginning of our pre-detox, and therefore avoidance of anything other than salads and juices – although that didn't stop me enjoying a banana pancake on our first morning. The second 2 days (when we returned) marked the beginning of normal eating, and therefore involved consuming everything we wanted to after almost 2 weeks of abstinence. Thailand has allegedly some of the best cuisine in this region and so I've done my best to sample as much as I can in 48 hours. Like a stereotypical Brit-abroad, James has been craving chips, burgers and fried breakfasts (as you'll have seen from our previous post) so has been trying (and, let's be honest, mostly failing) to find decent Thai versions of these western delights. Perhaps we should have made a trip to Chaweng after all.......

My favourite part of the second trip (and one of the highlights of the tour so far) actually happened before we even set foot on the island. We were able to get a small boat directly from The Sanctuary on Ko Phangan direct to Mae Nam Beach, rather than the usual catamaran, and the journey was incredible. Early morning, the sun was shining, barely a cloud in the sky, the wind whipping through your hair just the right amount. I could have stayed there for hours. We even caught sight of some flying fish, fins clipping the top of the water as they went skimming along the surface like stones. Was amazing to see: I wasn't wholly convinced they even existed.

On our last day, we had built up enough energy to do a little exploring. Whilst our corner of the island was pretty perfect, we didn't want to leave without having seen at least a little more of it. So we hired a motorbike (last time for a while, we promise) and went on a little adventure to Hin Lat Waterfall, one of 3 waterfalls on the island, which involved a beautiful coastal drive en route. We decided to climb to the top, allegedly a 2km jaunt up through the forest. In fact it was more like 4km, and involved some scrambling up rocks and the like. James was in his element; me, less so. And then when we were about two-thirds of the way up, the clouds that had been threatening gave way to proper torrential rain. Within 5 minutes we were absolutely soaked, but pressed on to the top of the waterfall regardless. And it was worth the effort: the waterfall itself was pretty impressive, although unfortunately a little too muddy for swimming. James unleashed his inner explorer and went for a clamber around the rocks, and then we made the decent back down, passing a very-unhappy looking German couple en route. About two-thirds of the way down, the rain abruptly stopped, replaced once more by blazing heat. Such is rainy season in Thailand.

The road to Sihanoukville is a blue-grey tarmac patchwork with red clay hard shoulders, running Roman-straight through palm-dotted paddyfields. From Phnom Penh it's a four hour bus ride straight south-east, until the tarmac gives way to gravel and swerves south to avoid the mountains that rear up before the coast.

Concrete, corrugated iron, timber and palm fronds are the building materials of choice for the few houses that line the road. Most are built up on stilts in the traditional style, creating a shady open-sided living area under the house. Here, whole families rock in hammocks or lie prostrate on wooden sleeping platforms, whiling away the heat of midday. Their dogs and cows play chicken with the traffic.

Each house has farmland out back and some kind of roadside commercial venture out-front. Everyone's working an angle - mini-diners selling noodles, ice boxes full of fizzy drinks, women selling fresh pineapple and mango, and rows of pepsi bottles filled with petrol for over-ambitious moped riders. This seems to be a very popular trade, but i've yet to see anyone actually stop to fill up their bikes.

The men manning the stalls have an interesting strategy for keeping cool – exposing their bellies to the air by rolling up their t-shirts and tying them at the back. Leathery-faced farmers wearing crop-tops.

Sihanoukville – named after King Sihanouk - is the main beach town on the south coast of Cambodia, but as it's officially off-season now the restaurants and hotels were nearly empty. We checked into a nice hotel a short walk from the beach, with a pool and all of four other people staying there. Empty sun-loungers, empty bar, bored staff playing Beyonce and Rihanna 24/7 (I've only heard Celine Dion once in Cambodia thus far. They still love their ballads over here, but prefer more modern pop versions).

Luckily for us - but not the farmers in crop-tops - the rainy season is the latest it's been for years. Roads are dusty and the fields are parched – slowly turning the dull straw colour of well-worn cricket pitches. We get a few good hours of sunbathing in each morning before the wind kicks up and the clouds turn mean. There's a lot of thunder, but not much rain yet.

If, like us, you arrived in Nha Trang at 0630, broken and dizzy under the weight of a sleepless night and an oversize backpack, you could be forgiven for mistaking Nha Trang for an off-season Costa del Sol resort. Unlit neon signs for All Day Happy Hours, Full English Breakfasts, Guinness on Draught and the Premier League loom large in the bar windows lining the beachfront. Having gathered this slightly inauspicious first impression en-route to our hotel, we collapsed for 4 hours of well-deserved sleep.

Feeling more like fully-functioning human beings after our naps, we set off to visit the some of the sights of Nha Trang. First stop, the thermal mud baths just outside of town. First mistake, hiring bicycles and setting off into the mid-morning traffic.

I think we've already established that the rules of the road are pretty sketchy in Vietnam, and that the number of moped riders and number of riders per moped beggars belief (We saw 5 on a 50cc moped the other day - a man, a woman carrying a baby, a kid upfront between the man and the handlebars, and a kid perched on the back mudguard. The guy was driving one-handed, talking on a mobile phone, weaving through rush-hour traffic). In retrospect, as a caring fiancé, this was perhaps not the safest environment into which to send a fairly novice cyclist like Sarah. She was totally fine cycling in Japan and China, but two minutes after setting off in Nha Trang I looked back over my shoulder, saw her knuckles white on the handlebars, and wondered if maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Two minutes later, I was very sure it wasn't.

Ironically, it wasn't the traffic that did the damage. I pointed this out a couple of days later once the bruising had gone down a little, and got a well-deserved death-stare in response. (NB. Sarah just read this, two weeks later, and I got the same stare. I suggest we not mention this again).

What actually happened was, I slowed and stopped by the side of the road to check Sarah was OK, and she slowed down and wobbled to a stop just behind me. What she didn't notice though, was that she had stopped right next to a storm drain, so that when she went to put her foot down to steady herself she touched nothing but air, and, off-balance with a look of total shock on her face, plunged her leg down into the (full) drain up to her knee, pulling the bike down with her.

We were really lucky that she didn't cut herself, and had a bottle of water to clean off the sewage, but Sarah did knock her knee pretty badly on the concrete drain cover. My offering of the traditional O'Connor words of comfort for situations like these: 'It's nothing – just a scratch' very nearly earned me a matching injury. Once we'd cleaned the wound we abandoned the mud baths, and pushed our bikes back home.

So after this eventful morning, Nha Trang wasn't our favourite place. But it redeemed itself in our eyes as the sun went down.

In the afternoon we visited (by taxi) a set of Cham Dynasty temples on a hill overlooking the bay. The Cham dynasty ruled the area for over a thousand years, but few remnants of their civilisation and architecture remain. Apparently the buildings are very similar to those at Angkor – the Cham were actually neighbours of the Khmer who built Angkor, and they made several forays over the border including one in 1177 in which they killed the Khmer king and ransacked the capital.

We then headed back into town to the beach (again, by taxi) . The beach is absolutely fantastic – a long clean curve of sand and warm gentle waters. A kind of timeshare system operates here, with Westerners burning themselves to a crisp from 9 to 5, and happy locals enjoying the beach at sunrise and sunset.

When we got there the beach was packed with kids playing football and burying their friends in the sand, parents teaching babies (and small dogs) to swim in the surf, and teenagers flirting by their mopeds. As the sun descended the sky became crowded with kites.

Hoi An is fast becoming a popular tourist destination – the old town was designated a World Heritage Site some years ago, and the tourist industry here has since exploded. There are many excellent cafes and restaurants, and even a wine bar with decent (foreign) wine. Down by the beach, new 4* hotels are being constructed with alarming rapidity. Coupled with the fact that Hoi An is the premier destination in Vietnam for cheap tailored clothes, I am sure it won't be long before this becomes another Thailand for week-long getaways from Europe. For the moment, it's still a place in transition.

We spent a day visiting Cham Island, actually a series of islands about an hour off the coast of Hoi An. This was one of my favourite days of the Tour so far – it's a relatively pricey trip ($40 each!), which means there were next to no tourists in the bay, just local fishermen. We did a spot of snorkelling, a chance for me to see the underwater world for the first time. Visibility was pretty good, and we spotted shoals of brightly-coloured fish and a couple of angel fish, as well as blue starfish and lots of coral. One of the women saw a sea snake, which apparently carries enough venom in a single bite to poison 50 people. Very glad we all emerged unscathed. We then whiled away the afternoon on our very own desert island, lunching on the beach and napping in hammocks, avoiding the 41 degree heat.

We also decided to spend a morning doing a cookery course, where we learnt to make 4 traditional Vietnamese dishes, which we then get to eat. A delicious way to spend a morning. At the end of it we were presented with the recipes, so hopefully we can put our new-found skills to good practice when we return to the UK. Food was definitely a focus of our stay here – we sampled so much delicious seafood, including our first-ever king prawns which were caught that very day by the restaurant owner's dad.

There are not masses of sights here, and so we gladly use the rest of our time to relax and soak up some sunshine. We headed to Cua Dai beach for a late afternoon swim, passing lots of burnt-to-a-crisp westerners who spent the day in the sun (mad dogs and Englishmen...) Whilst we were there, the beach was transformed from a western sun-seeker's resort to a local paradise – apparently (and very sensibly) the Vietnamese avoid swimming during the day at all, heading to the beach either between 5 and 8am or 4 and 7pm. Even then, many of the kids are still made to swim fully clothed, just in case.

We also made time for a bit of shopping (at last!), although we had to ignore most of the tailored stuff – the world of work seems far too far away to contemplate ordering a suit or a shift dress right now. James was also further put off when he discovered that the Next catalogue provides the basis for most of the male tailoring! Instead, we opted for a bit of traveller wear, although avoided the baggy harem pants which appear to be this year's gap-year item of choice.