The hotel is grim, but i’m mostly just lying on the bed, swatting away flies and trying to keep cool. The plan had been to ride up to the aral sea, but with dave ill, of very ill, and realising how hard it is to ride in this heat in the desert, we scrap the plan in favour of trying to get well. Dave gets bitten by a thousand insects, i seem to escape. I exchange a few left over euros at the bank and end up with 134000 of the local currency. Apart from feeling pretty rotten, the day slips by without much happening. That night, the illness kicks in again, and i spend a dreadful night, burning up, permanently on the loo, unable to keep anything down or in, and pouring cold water from the shower over myself trying to keep cool. By morning i feel worse than ever.