Click here to read Day Nine...

You will be relieved to hear – unless you are a sadist or hoping for some yin-yang balance – that I am not severely suffering with my stomach but I am not about to engage in any bending exercises, either.

The daily intake of small amounts of weird, contrasting and spicy foods has been almost too much for this Englishman's constitution to bear. Add to that the constant heat, the sickening motion of the taxis, the noise, the smell of traffic pollution and his Dutch colleague wondering whether she should take yet another photo... well, we had to quickly stop the taxi.

Locked in the safety of a tea house squat toilet, I realised that my "ego" was deflating and it was an all together humbling situation. No thoughts of stardom or celebrity fill your head as you attempt to maintain balance, hope to God there's enough toilet roll and whether your clothes are out of the Danger Zone.

I believe that the women here must have thigh muscles stronger than bamboo canes with all of the squatting they are forced to endure. My respect for Iona holds no bounds, since she has faced the horror of Chinese toilets many, many, many times a day – I think she actually has a bladder the size of a dumpling.

Anyway, as you can tell from my light-hearted tone, I am beginning to feel better. I am hoping for a full recovery because tomorrow we return to a continent full of glistening porcelain thrones. Until then, I will enjoy this colonic ceasefire, courtesy of some chemical weaponry.

Click here to read Day Eleven...

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