What the #!$%?

I like all the students here. They're wonderful people and they're bright, but there's been a disturbing trend since I've returned from some time away. Some of the teenage students, being teenagers, like to use bad language (profanity, I guess) in class randomly and to my face. For example, in one class I told the students not to use the "f" word or say "sh%$" or "bull#$!##" in my classroom or I would kick them out of class. As soon as I finished my little speech, a 15-year-old boy says "What the F%$?" in my face. I understand that people want to test the waters, see what they can get away with, and show off. This stuff is all too common in my country (USA). I get it. But I don't unleash a barrage of Vietnamese profanity when I meet students' parents or new teachers or go to someone's home here. By the way, I did kick that kid's %#! out of class, and I'll do it every time.  When I tell other teachers about this problem, most laugh and think it's funny. %?@!# them! If they used profanity in my classroom, I would kick their $#!es out of the room, too. People say what they say on the street or in their homes. None of my business, and I can be as guilty as anyone. But there's a time and place, and a classroom during class isn't the time or place for profanity. Enough of this .... I'm done preaching.
I was a good samaritan last week on my motorbike. It was raining and I was going with the flow on  my bike on a very busy road in Bien Hoa. Up ahead of me, a girl about 18 years old wiped out. She got up but couldn't lift her bike (she was typically tiny and the bike was relatively big). So, I stopped behind her, lifted her bike, and away she went. She said thank you, but didn't look at me or smile. The oncoming traffic was pissed, and some folks laid on their horns to show their anger at me. I smiled, got on my bike, and rode away feeling good that I had helped someone. People have done the same for me here, and I truly appreciate it.
Phuong was in another motorbike accident last week. A woman was behind her and lost concentration and broadsided her while trying to pass or whatever. Phuong got a couple of scrapes -- nothing serious -- and her bike got about 400,000 dong damage, which Phuong paid. That's Phuong's third accident in a year. I may have to take her keys away.
When you stop at a red light here, you can see how much time remains before the light turns green for you to go. It usually counts down from 30 seconds. When it gets to ... 5...4...3....2....1.... people are already laying on their horns demanding you run the red light to get a 3-second edge, or whatever. Same as line cutting. Chuckleheads.
Christmas is getting bigger here every year. More decorations at stores, more Santas, more promotions. More opportunity to make money, I guess. One girl wasn't impressed. I wished my coffee shop waitress a Merry Christmas and gave her a bigger tip, and she said: "I don't care about that (Christmas)."  Ho ho ho!
I returned to tennis this week and played doubles. I did OK, but my team lost both matches. My partners seemed mildly irritated, but whatever. My game is up and down, but I've got the best serve of the bunch, and they know it. 

The White Monkey chills back in Vietnam

I'm very happy to be back in Vietnam because this is where Phuong is, and also because it's just about as warm here as it was in the United States. The world is upside down sometimes. My air travel in these troubled times was surprisingly smooth although I ran into a little difficulty in efficient Tokyo, of all places. My flight from Tokyo to Ho Chi Minh City was delayed because of problems with the Narita Airport buses, which ferry passengers from the terminal to the plane on the runway. Go figure. I got to HCMC a couple of hours late, so Phuong wasn't there. I was hassled by taxi drivers, and since it was near midnight, nothing, and I mean nothing, was open at the HCMC airport, one of the worst I've been at, along with the airport in Lima. Phuong eventually showed up and all was well. So I arrived early Thursday, ran around town on Friday, and taught four classes Saturday. I was Santa on Sunday morning for a school function (which I really enjoyed), and sick Sunday afternoon. I'm shaking with chills now. It's nice to be back.
Actually, I'm happy to be back "home" because I got fat in the United States on cheese, pretzels, milkshakes, cappuccinos, bagels and cream cheese, pizza and lots of beef. I love the food but hate the fact that all of my clothes are tight now. Besides, the coffee and chicken in Vietnam are the best.
Also, I'm happy to be back on the motorbike. Maybe I've fallen prey to the Stockholm Syndrome, but I've learned to enjoy the motorbike, except when it rains. But rainy season is pretty much over.
Of course, I missed Phuong the most when I was in the U.S., but I also really missed the students here. There are a few classes that are special to me, and when I saw the kids again, they almost hugged me. I say almost because public displays of affection are incredibly rare here. You'll see a little hand-holding on occasion, but that's about it. I guess everyone goes to my hotel/motel for the real affection. Quite a contrast to Peru, where public make-out sessions were the norm. Or the U.S., where people wear their emotions on their sleeves and everywhere else. Anyway, I'm happy to be teaching again and I'm happy to see the students.
I don't mind the folks here staring at me here, which started when I stepped off the plane, but I don't understand the people who laugh at me. Six guys near Phuong's family store pointed at me and started laughing when I got off my motorbike. After a no-nap, 31-hour trip and three hours sleep when I finally got home, I didn't share the laugh with them. They started yelling the usual crap at me: "Hey you, what's your name, ha ha ha. Where you from? Ha ha ha."  They wanted to engage me, for whatever reason, but I wasn't in the mood so I took care of business and went to my hotel/motel. Basically, I diffused what was becoming an unpleasant situation. Did I say I was happy to be back "home"?
We had to change rooms at our hotel/motel for personal reasons, and now we're in a room that's slightly bigger than a walk-in closet. The bathroom is so small that I inadvertently bumped the shower spigot and had an unexpected cold shower while taking care of bathroom business, if you know what I mean. Unbelievable. All the doors at the hotel/motel are locked at night, which makes it feel like I'm under house arrest. Creepy. Phuong negotiated a key so I can go on the balcony for a smoke late at night (after 10 p.m.).
It was wonderful to see family and friends in the U.S., and I want to thank everyone for their hospitality and generosity. Hosting the White Monkey in any capacity can be hazardous duty, or so I've been told. Thanks again.

Cars, warmth and pretzels in the USA

If you have any doubts about global warming, look at the weather in the U.S. It's December and the temperatures have been 55 in the day, 35 at night. They were warmer when I first got here. Not really complaining because the cold is tough on your body, especially a rapidly aging body. But it's warm here for winter. Of course, I don't really miss the 93 humid degrees in Vietnam. However, I do miss Phuong and don't like being away from her this long, but I've been busy so there isn't a lot of time to dwell on things. Doctors, driving, family, friends, lawyers and priests are occupying my time.
Oddly, I miss riding the motorbike. Driving a car has its pluses --I really enjoy listening to the radio in the car while shielded from rain. But the motorbike is clearly more social. You look other traffic in the eye in Vietnam, and on occasion smile and nod. Here, everyone's surrounded by metal and glass. In the U.S., I've had to slam on the breaks because I saw a stop sign at the last second. In Vietnam, you can keep moving as long as you avoid the crossing traffic. Very convenient. One thing I enjoy is the food here, although everyone is cooking Asian food for me ... noodles, rice, chicken in sauces, and so on. But I've been reunited with hard, sourdough pretzels, cheeses, steak, salsa, good beer (which, unfortunately, I can't drink much of) and Yahoo, the chocolate drink which may or may not have milk in it. I miss Phuong's cooking, but I like the ingredients here.
I want to thank the folks putting me up and taking care of me in the U.S.: Lynda, my ex-wife, made a wonderful turkey dinner on Thanksgivng; Ron gives me his wonderful couch and my angry cat; my brother and his wife keep me in luxury; John Sturm is gracious and he's becoming quite the chef as well, my children -- Jessica, Caroline, Jack, Alec -- are so special and caring and good-hearted. Love ya' all.
It's Saturday today, and Ron and I have planned a fishing expedition. Bass.
I miss my students and teaching, but that'll happen soon enough. Time flies here, and everywhere.
I'll be 61 years old in a few days. But I've been told that life begins at 60. Sadly, no one told me it ends at 61. Dong Nai River time.
Again, thanks to everyone who's taken care of me so far. If I forgot you, it's because I never really liked you to begin with. Well, not true. I'm just forgetful sometimes.
Miss you and love you Phuong. Can't wait to see you.

Butt-head contributes to pollution

Vietnam is going through quite a few changes, kind of like an industrial age of sorts. There's more industry, more building, more cars, and, unfortunately, more pollution. Still, it's not as bad as Shanghai from what I hear from other English teachers. The motorbike rules here, and motorbikes don't pollute as much as cars (I think) and while it's crowded in much of Vietnam, it's nothing like China, thank god. I always include a global warming and conservation lesson in all of my classes, so at least students are aware of the issues. And the students always point to my shirt pocket and say smoking cigarettes contributes to the problem. Guilty as charged.
Living in the tropics presents unique difficulties. There are some insects here that I don't recall seeing in the United States, and one of them decided to leave its mark on the White Monkey. The result is the White Monkey has deep purple spots on his right foot, which I've had for more than a week. I'll spare you the photo. The three spots, each about the size of a quarter, cause no pain but they're disconcerting and gnarly looking. About as attractive as my missing teeth. Phuong assures me they'll go away soon, explaining that the wormy-looking thing that bit me actually shot some kind of dye-like fluid into me. But that's the least of my worries. I've become the world's oldest man with an acne problem, thanks to the heat, humidity and filthy air here. The town is growing, and at many of the construction sites the excess materials are burned, releasing god-knows-what into the air. But god knows there's a place on my face for those toxins, where they blossom into full, red-blooded pimples, which Phuong and I call "tomatoes." You can also get them on your legs and arms. My face gets the brunt of the action. Finally, small cuts and scratches take a long time to heal here. Part of that could be my age, but I think the weather and god-knows-what are factors as well.
After Phuong and I play singles tennis, a couple of older men play us in doubles. We don't go all out against our older opponents, instead trying to improve our already amazing games. As a result, we lose. So the 84-year-old guys tells us Monday that he'll get a different partner so we'll have a better chance to win. He felt sorry for us and thought we were getting frustrated. I decided to give a little more effort against the old guy and his new partner Thursday, and guess what? We lost. Ah, but those old guys didn't have a chance against my serve. Ha!! Hey wait, I'm an old guy, too.
I was so happy with my new front teeth that Phuong and I decided to fix up her front teeth. The picture on the right says it all. Beautiful smile, beautiful teeth, beautiful woman. I feel blessed. Her bottom teeth are next. I guess in the day, not too long ago when Phuong was a teenager, the solution to issues like tooth decay was to yank that sucker out, even if it was a permanent tooth. Progress can be a beautiful thing.
I'm getting more excited about my trip to the U.S. to see family, friends, bankers, doctors and a priest and a lawyer. Quite the mix, and good times, I'm sure. I miss Yellow Springs, especially Glen Helen Nature Preserve. I know I'll do some hiking.

Cold showers, Elvis, Halloween

When I take a shower in the Nha Nghi hotel, which is quite often, I'm reminded of my days in Peru. The water is heated by solar energy, like Peru, the supply is limited, like Peru, and when the days are cloudy or rainy ... well, cold showers can be quite invigorating. Like Peru. Morning showers are the coldest, so I'm always wide awake for my Saturday and Sunday morning classes. I use the washcloth-and-fast-rinse method, so it's not so horrible. And when we do have hot or warm water, Phuong makes sure to take a nice, long shower. Rainy season has finally slowed down, so the warmer water has been more plentiful. Phuong and I plan to have a solar water heater in our house. Go green.
Being an egomaniac, I always follow the number of hits my blog gets and where the hits are coming from. Last week I had views from six continents -- only the third or fourth 'time that's happened. Africa rarely reads me -- and the people there don't know what they're missing. But last week I had a couple of hits from Nigeria, and I'm going to guess that someone from that country sent me a weird voodoo message, saying I could improve my wealth and love life with the help of a little voodoo. My love life is fine these days, but I'll need more than a little voodoo to help my financial situation. Whatever. I have nearly 16,000 hits overall, so that's kind of cool. I told you I was an egomaniac.
My new teeth are in place, and they feel pretty good. They're going to take a little getting used to, but overall I'm very pleased with the job the dentist did, and how my mug looks. It would have been more than 10 times more expensive to get the same dental work done in the USA, so now I really have a reason to smile and show off my new pearly whites. Thank you Dentist Thu. And, the dentist was a very nice person and gave the White Monkey a bunch of bananas to eat after fixing my bridge.
I've had students making Halloween masks in class the past week or so. Halloween is celebrated here, but it's not a big deal like in the USA, where a lot of people use it as an excuse to consume massive amounts of alcohol. Really scary. But most of the students here, especially the older ones, really enjoy the project. Some boys, about 11 to 14 years old, are a little too cool to participate. I totally understand, because I was little too cool for a lot of things when I was younger. The students actually pick up some English when they make the masks: words like mask (duh), scissors, glue, paste, ghost, and goof off.
I lost to Phuong 6-0 last week in our bitter tennis rivalry, but courageously came back this week to win three straight sets and take back the title. My hip, injured in a fall a few weeks ago, is completely healed, so I'm moving like a gazelle again, or at least like a graceful wildebeest. Phuong and I played doubles together, and we got beat 6-2 by two guys with a combined age of 154. Really. One guy is 84 and the other guy is around 70. We had fun and we're playing them again tomorrow.
I'm super excited about returning to the USA in a few weeks. I'll be crazy busy with eye work, a visit to an immigration lawyer, a visit to a Catholic church. The lawyer and church visits are in preparation for getting Phuong a visa so we can get married in the USA. If the church rejects us, we'll go to Las Vegas and get married by an Elvis impersonator. At least that's my plan.Thank you very much.

The tongue was wonderful

Our small room in the hotel/motel is a big challenge. I have lots of books and Phuong has lots of computer gear, so we're knocking things over all the time, tripping over everything  and somehow losing track of our stuff. And, of course, everything is built for a smaller person. The sink, closet and fridge are low to the ground, so my back and mending hip are put to the test. I'm also tested by the four flights of stairs I walk a few times a day. The knob on our door started sticking, so I poured pure virgin olive oil all over it, and presto, good as new. That's one of my great accomplishments in Vietnam. We're making do and our relationship survives, despite the Nha Nghi.
We do have crazy neighbors -- an old Italian guy and his younger Vietnamese girlfriend. They scream and yell at each other every day and throw trash out the fourth-floor window. We got fed up one day -- I yelled at them to take their stupid fights outside and Phuong left a note by the door telling them to stop throwing trash out the window. 
I got an X-ray of my messed-up teeth for the dentist. That was interesting -- the X-ray room has paint chipping off the walls and a metal bed. Other than an X-ray machine, that was it. The X-ray guy had me hold the X-ray plate in place with my thumb, and he put me in a semi-sit-up position for my photo op. I guess the photo was OK. The price was certainly right -- $1.50 USD.
I gave the X-ray to the dentist on Friday, and she yanked out my crumbling bridge (top, front, four teeth) on Sunday. The process was surprisingly painless, but she didn't give me a temporary replacement so I'm ready for Halloween early. In the interest of full disclosure, I'll post a picture of my "before" front teeth. When the new bridge arrives in a couple of days, I'll post that photo as well. I can't teach for a few days because I don't have my million-dollar smile and my speech isn't quite the same -- I whistle on the "s" words.
Last week, when I had front teeth, Phuong cooked pig heart and pig tongue for our dinner. Both were delicious and Phuong did an excellent job preparing them. I would recommend both, but some people might be turned off by the texture of the tongue, although I had no problem with it.
I had good mojo with my classes last week, and even won a bet with a student about kilos and pounds. I mentioned that a kilo is 2.2 pounds, and a student nicknamed John was sure I was wrong and agreed to a bet, which, of course, I won. After all, I'm the teacher. The student is a great guy and the class is super awesome, so we had a good laugh over it and I tried to moon walk to celebrate.
A couple weeks ago a few students at a company annoyed me a little, asking me if I had been drinking beer before class because I was red. A little miffed, I told them I had just ridden 30 minutes on the back of a bike to class in 95-degree heat, that I grew up in a country that has cold weather, that I'm a big man, and that I'm not Vietnamese and acclimated to the conditions here. They laughed, and I don't know why.
Phuong beat me for the tennis championship last Friday, 6-3, and she followed that up by trouncing me 6-0. Man, I was pissed. But give me time, and I'll come up with the perfect excuse for my loss.

Crumbling teeth, hip pointer, wet rides; no worries

Phuong and I were eating chicken wings for lunch the other day when I bit on something that felt like glass. I spit out the white, porcelain-like material and thought it was bone. Make that ...hoped it was bone. Wrong. It was my front tooth. The material was enamel, or something like that. I have a bridge of four fake, front, top teeth. For 38 years or so the bridge gave me a Tom Cruise smile, or so I thought. Now I look like a minor league hockey player. My front teeth are falling apart, so I'm rolling the dice and having a Vietnamese dentist replace my bridge. The good news is that Phuong knows the dentist, and the dentist is a woman. I like Vietnamese women because they're direct and practical. The dentist is going to "fix me up"  later in October, so I hope to return to the United States in November looking like Tom Cruise again -- or no worse than Mr. Ed. Looks don't mean much at this stage of my life, but I want to be able to chew until Phuong puts me in the Dong Nai River.
September and October have been extremely rainy this year. It always rains as I'm leaving for work or traveling between assignments on a bike. Last week, storm Number 3 (the storms get numbers here) slammed into me while I was on the back of a bike going from my first class at a sneaker company to my second class at our home office. The rain and wind was so severe my driver stopped the bike. We waited a few minutes and the rain got more intense, flooding the streets because the drains are filled with litter. So we got back on the bike and sloshed our way to my second of three classes that night. The ride usually takes 20 to 30 minutes. That night it took 55 minutes because we had to detour to avoid flooding. I arrived soaking wet to class, 20 minutes late. My students looked at me like I was some guy with giant front teeth. They had no pity for the White Monkey even though my shoes squished when I walked. It was still raining when class finished, and I had to ride my bike to another site for my third class. Not a good night, but I got through. I woke up sick the next day, but Phuong made me soak my feet in warm salt water for half an hour. Son of a gun, I got better immediately and instantly resumed my cigarette smoking with no ill effects, other than the usual ill effects from cigarette smoking.
I took a nasty fall in tennis a week ago. Phuong hit the ball toward my man zone and I tried some fancy footwork to hit a winner at the net. I promptly fell on my right hip ... hard. Bone met hardcourt and hardcourt won that point. A lesser man, for example Hercules, would have stopped playing. I continued and won the title that day on one leg. The hip is slowly improving. My friend Ron diagnosed my injury -- from thousands of miles away during a skype chat -- as a hip pointer. I ice it after we play every day and all seems to be going fairly well other than an odd popping sound in my hip when I bend over. I've stopped bending over. Today, I charged the net on one point and Phuong hit the ball extremely hard and it went between my legs, missing the man zone by mere inches. We're still laughing and it's nine hours later. The match ended in a 6-6 tie, by the way.
Classes are very good, the students are very good, and Phuong is the greatest human being in the known universe. I can't wait to marry her. There's some work left to do for this to happen, but I'll save that for another blog. So this gap-toothed, hobbling White Monkey is quite content.

City sights ... and horrible news

Phuong and I moved out of the house we were renting last week. We moved into a very small room in a hotel/motel behind the house. And we don't hate each other ... yet. We're on the fourth floor -- they call it third floor here. No matter what you call it, there are four flights of stars. It's 62 steps up, and, unbelievable, 62 steps down. I'm still tired from the move, but fortunately, we didn't take a whole lot of stuff so it could have been worse. The other day I was rushing to work and when I got downstairs realized I forgot something and trudged back upstairs to get it. The joys of living on the 3rd/4th floor.
One joy, really, about living the high life is the view from our balcony. I sit on the balcony every morning with my coffee and take in the sights of the city: the vegetable man riding his bike pulling a cart piled with veggies; the Cambodian bread girl riding her bike so fast that buying bread from her takes quick reactions and impeccable timing; the construction workers next door taking a leak on the side of a small house across the street. At night, the lights of the city are very pretty and the singing from the coffee shop across the way is pretty awful.  Phuong and I mimic the singers and get quite the laugh out of it. Overall, the hotel is kind of cool. The owners seem to like us and let us use their kitchen. They're very friendly and accommodating. Most of the other customers here rent their rooms for a few hours because they're with, uh hum, ladies of the night. But that action is on the lower floors, so to speak, so we don't care, mind, or interact with them. That's the cleaning lady's problem, not ours.
Phuong and I celebrated our one-year engagement anniversary on Thursday, Sept. 24. The best year of my life. I got Phuong earrings and a small, gold cross. And two cans with eight new tennis balls, which we'll break open like champagne for our championship match on Friday. We're tied 2-2 this week thanks to a very controversial call by Phuong on match point today. Hawkeye wasn't working.
The foreign teachers come and go where I teach, so my hours have picked up a little lately. No big deal, though. Phuong and I see quite a bit of each other in our room and on the court.
We found out some horrible news on Thursday. Phuong's cousin was found dead on the street near Metro, where we shop sometimes. His hands were bound behind his back. We're still learning what happened, but it's not a good situation. We'll attend a service tomorrow.
I'm really looking forward to my trip back to the U.S. in November.  Cool weather and cool people -- family and friends. I'll be busy with my eye doctor as well as trying to find a way to get Phuong to the U.S. one day.

Good-bye house, we're moving to a motel

 A long and complicated story about the house we are renting will come to an abrupt end in a few days when we move into the Nha Nghi, a motel pretty much right behind our house. It's one street over from our old house and Phuong's family's house, so really, there is someplace like home. I admit I'll miss the lousy electric, leaky roof, dangerous stairs, hyperactive gas stove, the geckos, and the noisy birds that live on the third floor of the old house. But as long as Phuong and I are together, life is grand. I've rented two houses here, and let's just say the end game in both instances wasn't particularly pleasant, so moving on isn't very difficult. We're on the fourth floor of the motel (that's what they call it here), which means we still have the joy of going up and down dangerous stairs several times a day.
After tennis, Phuong and I usually go to a coffee shop called Lido's on the Dong Nai River. An alley leads to Lido's, and that's where everyone parks their bikes. When we park my bike, we can look in the side window of a small household plumbing store. It was there that we met "the nice lady," who works in the plumbing store. We chatted with her through the window and became friends. She gave us a book written by her friend, an American who fought in the Vietnam War. Much of the book focuses on events in Dong Nai Province, where we live. Sadly, "the nice lady" quit and has been replaced by "the not as nice lady." The replacement lady isn't mean or anything, but she seems bored with the job -- she cuts her toenails while she's sitting behind the very small counter, but at least the clippings appear to be aimed toward a trashcan. The other day, she was on her cell phone crying while talking to whoever (crying females aren't that uncommon here, from what I've seen).  I miss "the nice lady."
Also, the staff at Lido's changes almost daily. The guy -- a kid, really -- who gave me a cool key chain, is gone. A nice little girl (about 16), who jokingly thought I was going to throw her into the Dong Nai River one day, is gone. I tried to speak Vietnamese to her at Phuong's urging and the little girl thought I said I was going to toss her into the river. We had a good laugh. Every time she saw me she would say, "No river. No swim." The world of coffee shops here is pretty fast-moving and interesting. My former favorite coffee shop, Vang's, now employs girls with short shorts and short skirts. It wasn't like that before, when the wonderful Nguyen girls in bluejeans worked there. The other day, this young security guard at Vang's wouldn't let me park my bike in the 50 open spaces in front of the shop. He wanted me to squeeze my bike into a crowded alley. Good-bye, Vang's.
On a sad note, Phuong's grandmother died today. Phuong found out right after tennis. We'll pay our respects tomorrow (Friday) and Phuong's grandmother, who was 97, will be buried Sunday. Grandmom had eight children, Phuong's wonderful mom among them, of course. God bless.

A new market and mall; an unhappy anniversary

A super-duper market and mall, Vincom, opened in Bien Hoa last week.  It's located at the corner of the busiest, most lawless intersection in this jam-packed city of 1 million people, and Vincom seems to have attracted a lot of automobile traffic to the area along with even more motorbikes. The mall itself is pretty nice inside and since the merchandise is geared to the clientele here, you can buy lots of little shirts and pants and shoes. They don't carry White Monkey size in Bien Hoa. For the bigger Monkey, you have to go to the bigger city, Ho Chi Minh. The super-duper market isn't so super, but it's OK. It has air-conditioning, unlike Metro. The Vincom market has good, cheap bread, and other items like Tabasco, at a steep price. There's the same old lousy beer selection, which means watery, bland, Asian lagers and a German beer, Erdinger wheat, which is somewhat average in the White Monkey's opinion. The hot food area in the super-duper market is pretty twisted. You order food, like a couple of chicken legs, you get a sticker and wait in line to pay, and then go back to the food servers, who search for your food by trying to match up the stickers. OK, I played along and eventually got two pretty decent pieces of chicken.  There were only two checkout lanes opened and the place was rockin', so the line-cutters had a field day. We waited a little, but amazingly, a third checkout counter opened and we got through fairly quickly. You park your motorbike in the basement underneath the five-storey mall, and there clearly isn't enough parking space. We were able to wedge our bike into a space, and with a little maneuvering, were able to make our escape. All things considered, not a bad experience overall. If you're a single guy, it's not a bad place to hang out. Lots of pretty girls are there in short shorts and skirts, which is something of a uniform for the women here. But I'm not a single guy, so I probably won't be returning any time soon.
September 1 was the two-year anniversary of my mysterious motorcycle accident -- my own personal head-bangers' ball. To commemorate the event, I had an incredible spell of dizziness and feeling of nausea on anniversary day. Weird. I had been pretty much symptom free until anniversary day, but it was a strong enough event to throw me off my game -- Phuong beat me 6-4 in tennis that day. Every great athlete has an excuse, however, and I'm already thinking about why I'll lose my next match. Our tennis is pretty hotly contested these days because Phuong has improved dramatically, and she's a natural athlete anyway.  Also, the White Monkey is turning into the Grey Monkey. As my friend, the fantastic photographer Fred Comegys, once said: "The Golden Years my ass."
Phuong's family has considerable talent. Her dad is a smart businessman, her brother is the handiest of handymen, and her mom is a tailor and superb cook.  Mom has made some cool underwear for me since I can't buy undies here because of my fat arse. Phuong's brother has done some wonderful electric work in our house, and now we can turn on lights without getting electrocuted. Phuong can do all of the above, in addition to being a thorn in my side at tennis. Plus, she knows her way around the pharmacies here, so the White Monkey is well-stocked with vitamins and such.
Almost all my classes are great, so work is a plus. I'm looking forward to visiting the U.S. in November/December and can't wait to see family and friends. I really wish Phuong could have joined me, but that'll make coming back so much better. She's sitting next to me and I already miss her.

Cutting toenails and wearing underwear outside

Since people live rather close together here, privacy is not a real priority like it is in other countries --  the United States, for example. In Bien Hoa, I've seen people stop their bike, get off and pee on the side of a road. Sunday, an 18-year-old girl who lives across the street from me was cutting her toenails on her front steps. A lot of men on my street walk around with no shirts, shorts that look like underwear, and flip-flops. Men and women do each others' hair sitting outside. I plead guilty to some of this behavior as well -- although I wash my hair in the shower, and I swear I don't cut my toenails or pee outside, unless it's a real emergency. The minimal clothing makes sense given the persistent heat. I get more weird looks when I dress up in a shirt and tie than I do when I sit on my front steps in my underwear having a smoke. I admit, I like the underwear-shorts thing because it's so hot and doesn't seem to matter to anyone.
This week, I posted a picture on facebook that I took of Erawan shrine in Bangkok when Phuong and I visited Thailand in February. I didn't post to show off after Monday's bombing. I was just struck at how someone's life could be ended or horrifically altered by grim circumstances. I guess fate can be cruel that way -- we visit and no worries, but if we go to the same place at the wrong time, our lives could be so tragically different, if not ended. I don't know, it just kind of rattled me that a place I recently enjoyed so much with Phuong became the scene of carnage for reasons I'll never understand.
Phuong and I were set to move into a new house, but the owners backed out of the deal more or less at the last minute. No shock, really. Everything seems a bit complicated here -- see past blogs about visas and tennis and language and shopping and riding a motorbike.
The more I teach, the more I learn about teaching. That's why I like the job so much. I've realized that students have bad days just like teachers, and when students are having a bad day, the teacher can't or shouldn't let that affect his/her performance. I know this isn't a news flash for anyone, but for me it means so much more to experience it, and to do the right thing in response. Or at least try to do the right thing. I'm still learning and I am sure I'll always be learning. When I go back to the U.S. in November, I hope my teacher-mentor Laurie Maravetz will listen to my whining for just a little bit. She's an amazing teacher.
Phuong's cooking is unbelievable ... really. She combines Vietnamese with U.S. flavors and creates a masterpiece every night. And she's not afraid to experiment, always with fantastic results. Pork and cow burger get mixed and put into spaghetti with tomatoes (not sauce), garlic, onions and other stuff I've never seen before. Awesome. Her fish soup is fantastic. I cook pulled pork on Thursdays, and I copy Phuong and my meals have been OK ... certainly better than they used to be. I'm getting a little chubby, but that's no concern. I'm getting old, too.
My motorbike tip of the week: You can't have any ego when you ride a bike here. If you do, you'll get really pissed off or go crazy trying to seek revenge. A no-win scenario.

Loneliness, a cultural mistake, and love

On Thursday, my son Alec and I chatted for over 45 minutes on Skype, and it was so refreshing and invigorating to talk about stuff I'm familiar with -- American football and Geno Smith getting his jaw broken in a locker room encounter; the pathetic Phillies; the Dodgers; and Ohio State academics. Alec will graduate from Ohio State this December, and I'm so, so, so proud of how he persevered and worked numerous jobs as he went to school. I can't wait to see Alec this December when I return to the U.S. In fact, I can't wait to see all of my family and friends. (Happy birthday Jessica, my awesome daughter. Hey Caroline, hey Jack, my other two awesome children.) Phuong's parents live close by, so it's not an issue for her. She talks with family every day. And really, she can talk with all the other folk in town because she's very outgoing, and of course, she speaks their language. My Vietnamese is somewhere below grunt level, so really I have no one to talk to other than Phuong and my friend teacher Joy. That can get rough sometimes because once every three months or so, I might have something intelligent to say. Well, maybe not, but it is a bit lonesome not to rap about the crap I'm used to rapping about with friends and family. I talked to my friend Ron as well on Skype, and I'm reminded of what a good friend and listener he is. He listens to my crap and takes care of my angry, shedding, hairball puking, vicious, flea-ridden cat. I'm going to put RW -- Ron's initials -- on my tombstone, if I don't end up in the Dong Nai River. Really, it's the least I can do.
Our house is still for sale, I guess, because lots of creepy people show up unannounced and look in our front door while we're watching TV or having dinner or whatever. The White Monkey feels like he's in a zoo. The owner showed up one morning with potential buyers just as we came home from tennis. She wanted to take the potential buyers though the house. This was the second time she's pulled this stunt. Phuong is very patient and understanding, and asked if it was OK for the crowd to go though our house. The White Monkey went ballistic. I started shrieking, beat my chest, and was prepared to expose my buttocks, which were bright red at this point. I explained to Phuong in agitated English that I don't want visitors showing up unannounced and looking in our closets and even worse, in our bathroom. I was extra pissed off because Phuong beat me in tennis that day. The owner saw my aggressive display and immediately left. The customers understood and said good-bye. We're moving next month.
Speaking of aggressive displays, I inadvertently made a big scene at tennis this week. Like I've said, most of the guys get it now -- they avoid the White Monkey and Phuong while we're playing. But a new guy -- shirtless and tattooed (not that there's anything wrong with tattoos -- two of my kids have them) -- walked across our court twice during our match and then sat courtside and shouted with a buddy on the other side of the court while we were playing. When he stood on a boundary line for our court while we were finishing a match, I tried to defuse things. I got down on my knees and pleadingly said "lam on, lam on," which I thought meant please. Everyone acted shocked, including Phuong. I was later told that what I did amounts to a declaration of war with him and his family and friends ... or something like that. I still don't entirely understand the ramifications of what I did, other than the fact that I think I would have been better off pissing on his uncle's grave. He chilled out and all seemed well to me. I guess the White Monkey is very well known on the local tennis circuit.
I'll quickly mention one traffic incident I was involved in ... I'm riding my bike in the usually blocked turn lane, heading toward a green light, when a guy carrying a kid steps right in front of me. Of course I hit him and the kid, but neither hit the ground. He was crossing and came out from behind a truck into my path. But no one believes the White Monkey. Fortunately, he kind of chuckled and went on his oblivious way.
Our favorite supermarket in Bien Hoa, Metro, seems to be sliding a little. They stopped carrying Tabasco sauce and the air conditioner wasn't on today, which made for some really hot shopping.
Phuong and I will be celebrating the one-year anniversary of our engagement next month. The best year of my life, even with the tennis shenanigans and traffic. Phuong is the most amazing and understanding woman in the world. She has to be -- she accepts the White Monkey, even though she doesn't care for that moniker. I love you Phuong. Happy anniversary!

New punks, no power, a happy ending

Here's some positive news. After seven months, the guys who play tennis next to Phuong and I -- or take the court right after us when our time is up --  have learned not to shout and scream while I'm in the middle of my service toss. And they no longer cut across our court while we're in the middle of a 15-shot rally on match point. Let the good times roll. But here's some negative news. Rain forced us to change times last week and we played at the same time a bunch of yokels showed up to play soccer on the field next to our court. Soccer is no problem for me, but these knucklebrains kicked the ball against the fence to our court while we played. Then they started taunting Phuong while she was serving: "Hey lady, teach me to serve. Show me how to play, lady." Shocking, but I don't think they really wanted a tennis lesson. And when I was about to serve, they shouted: "Hello, how are you?" Shocking, but I don't think they were really concerned about my well-being. One shirtless guy -- they were all pretty young, about 19 to 26 -- tried to give me the bad-ass stare as I walked to retrieve a ball. That was it for me, so I asked him in English he would never understand, "What's wrong?" and motioned to him to come into the court and tell me. He understood, I think, and dropped the stare and walked to his friends. I really don't want to fight 22 young, shirtless bozos, but I was starting to feel cornered. Besides, I'm sure I'd get my 60-year-old ass kicked. All I want to do is get a little exercise and enjoy time with Phuong, but some folks feel compelled to give me crap. The joys of being the White Monkey. Next time we play when the soccer guys are there, I'm going to hire six security guys -- really -- to stand shirtless, tattooed, and wearing mirror sunglasses at the fence so there's no problems. I guess you take the negative with the positive. Besides, most of the folk here are wonderful.
Time is moving pretty fast here. I've been in Vietnam the better part of two-and-a-half years. Phuong and I have been together for almost a year, and we get happier every day. Corny? Yes. True? Absolutely. Phuong has the patience to deal with the White Monkey's shrieking, and she has an incredible sense of humor. Her cooking is the best, and without a doubt, she's incredibly beautiful. So that's all positive, positive, positive. Maybe she'll teach me how to serve one day.
We had no power one day this week. It went off while we were at tennis, so when we came home, we couldn't get in the house. We have a sliding electric front door, but with no electric, there was no sliding. We sat outside hoping the power would return, and believe it or not, it was really hot. Adding to the fun, the key to our pad-locked back door was locked inside the house. I won't tell everyone that I told Phuong a while back to give the key to her mom, who's also our neighbor, in case we lost power one day. Eventually, Phuong's super-handy brother crow-barred the sliding door open enough for Phuong to slide inside, get the key, and unlock the back door. The power came back at 4 p.m. (it went off at 8 a.m.) and all was well.
Don't you love happy endings? Positive news.

A boyfriend, animal thieves, bikes, no visa

We do our shopping at Metro,  a really big supermarket owned by some Taiwanese company. Metro is like Walmart meets Costco meets Target and so on. They sell some decent foreign food, and bulk buying is encouraged. The prices are just a little higher than the markets and such, but it's big and you don't get banged into as much when you shop. Anyway, one of the employees there, a woman, chats a little with me and Phuong. The woman had a request a couple of weeks ago: She wanted me to introduce her to one of my foreign friends at my language center. She was blunt and said she wanted a foreign man in her life, adding: "He doesn't have to be handsome or good-looking. He can look like you." I assured her that all of the foreigners in Vietnam are better-looking than the White Monkey, but, unfortunately, I had to tell her that none are my friends. That's true. She didn't care if I had friends or not, she wanted a foreign man. I was unable to be of any assistance. I tried to tell her she was on her own.
Animal thieves invaded our neighborhood a while back. Someone stole Phuong's father's dog. Phuong suggested the dog probably became someone's dinner, It was a pretty-good-sized dog, so it likely fed a large family. A small bird was stolen from Phuong's family's store -- cage and all. The bird might make a nice appetizer before a delicious dog dinner. Dog is served in some restaurants here, but I haven't got the stomach for it.
 Our landlady is apparently trying to sell the house we're renting, but I hear the paperwork isn't pristine. I'm not sure if we're moving or not but we've been poking around just in case. Of course, nothing is simple. Folks tell us that they may not really want to rent, regardless of the For Rent sign, or that their cousin's brother's uncle's sister may want to live there. Or buy the place. So maybe it's not for rent, after all. We'll see what happens.
The more I ride the bike here, the less I like it. I was parked in front of my cigarette shop when a guy comes up behind me and lays on his horn. Naturally, there's plenty of room for him, but he apparently felt compelled to prove to the White Monkey that he was the real man, or something like that, I guess. I played stupid (easy for me) and stared at his sunglasses. I had just lost to Phuong in a close tennis match, so I was ready to rumble. He just stared at me, like everyone else. Another treat: When you turn left into oncoming traffic, a bike inevitably comes up  behind you and then races past you and cuts you off as you finish your turn. Dangerous stuff. And when you turn right with your right-hand blinker on, some yahoo will inevitably try to pass on the right the moment you make the turn. I've seen at least three or four accidents since my last blog, and it's no surprise. People can be real chuckleheads sometimes.
Phuong was rejected again trying to get a visa to the United States so she could travel with me. I will go solo, which is a downer. We wanted to go to Scandinavia as well, but she can't get that visa either. She won't let me go solo there, which saves us a lot of money. Otherwise, all is well enough. Phuong is the most wonderful woman in the world and I'm the lucky pinhead that gets to be with her every day. So really, how bad can things be?

Death and "unfriends"

A neighbor's father died, so the neighbors set up a tent in the street in front of our house and began three days of mourning. I don't know the ins and outs of the process, but I saw lots of eating and beer drinking, incense being lit, and heard music from some kind of horn instrument and banjo-sounding string instrument. There was singing as well, and all of this continued well into the night. The mourners hung flags in the area with the Buddhist symbol that someone uninformed or ignorant might mistake for a swastika. One guy got pretty drunk and came into our house screaming something in Vietnamese that I obviously didn't understand. Phuong was cool -- she walked up to the guy and basically waved good-bye and sent him on his wobbly way. Death is very public and communal here, and sometimes quite noisy. It's been quite a learning experience for me.
The heat here has been awful .... in the mid-90s every day and brutally humid. I'm in a constant air-conditioning struggle with students, who want the AC either turned off or turned up in the classroom. I often go from site to site to teach, so I arrive a tad late or right on time. This means I'm rushing and I always hurry into the classroom hot and sweaty. I immediately look for the AC remote because I know the students will grab it and adjust the AC. Not acceptable. The White Monkey wants a cool environment to teach. It's one of the few times I'm very emphatic about who's in charge of the classroom, especially the remote.
I got Phuong a blender for her birthday, and it's the best gift I ever got. I use it every day to make smoothies, lemon ice and milkshakes. Phuong rarely touches the thing, so the blender is de facto the White Monkey's toy. Love it.
How important is Facebook to the students here? I asked students to give me the opposite of friend, and 99 percent said ''unfriend".  And they were deadly serious.
A challenge here for me is that I rarely teach the same class more than once in a week, so building rapport is extremely difficult. A class that has me once a week will most likely have a Vietnamese English teacher the other two times a week. A lot of Vietnamese is spoken around the school, so sometimes I feel a little inadequate communicating with the students. Whine, whine, whine.
Phuong and I are excited and nervous about her visa interview July 6 at the U.S. embassy in Ho Chi Minh City. This will determine if she gets a U.S. visa and joins me in the U.S. when I have eye work done and visit family and friends. Our fingers are crossed.
Phuong, the most wonderful woman in the world ever, found a new tennis court for us. No more chuckleheads walking, talking or stalking courtside. And this court has a roof (but it's still outdoors) so there are no more excuses about the sun in our eyes.
Our matches have become to-the-death struggles. I won 6-3 on Monday, we tied 5-5 Tuesday and Wednesday, and Phuong won 7-5 Thursday.  That sets up Friday's winner-take-all championship for the week. It's great fun and the workout is rather rough -- our shirts are soaked, and I mean soaked, with sweat after our matches.
During my physical to get my work permit renewed, I was diagnosed with cholecystitis. Phuong has me taking some kind of vegetable pill to make it go away. I take 15 a day. I have no symptoms or problems of any kind with whatever it is I have, so I'm not too concerned.
And if I die from whatever it is I have, I want a very quiet ceremony. Phuong has orders to throw my body into the Dong Nai River.

A work in progress

The house Phuong and I share looks great. It's three stories, has two bathrooms, three bedrooms and cable TV. Ah, but there are some issues. That's always the case, isn't it? About half the lights work, and it takes 5 to 12 seconds for the bathroom light to come on. The water pressure is OK, but the only warm water is in the upstairs shower. I use a kettle to heat water when I do dishes. And I've been told the water drains into our neighbor's walls. This is the karaoke neighbor, so I don't care. It's our landlord's issue, anyway. The stairs are steep, slippery, winding and moderately dangerous. If your feet are wet, all the floors, which are some sort of fake marble, are really slippery. I took a spectacular fall in our bathroom one night. And a while back, I closed the bathroom door, and it wouldn't open. I was stuck, until Phuong used a screwdriver and hammer and busted the door open, rendering the door knob useless. There are no vents in the kitchen, so when you cook the smoke leaves the room out the windows or open door. Fire alarms? Don't make me laugh. We run fans all the time. The good news is that the bedroom air conditioner works well. I do my school work in the bedroom, so it's where I spend most of my time.
I mention all this because a house is being built behind us, and one of the foundation pillars fell on Friday. Luckily, no kids were around, and no one was hurt. The pillar fell away from our house, but it still shook the earth. I hope they do a better job with the plumbing and electric. I'm always a little nervous when I stand on our third-floor balcony. It's a long way down.
Our friends David and Alexandra gave us fresh coffee beans as a gift when they visited. We used our new blender to grind the beans, but I went overboard and created coffee dust. The coffee is still excellent, but takes a really long time to make. I'm such a buffoon. I hope we can see those guys when we get to the United States. I'll make them a cup of coffee.
Phuong, who's a certified nurse, cured the ugly, god-awful heat rash on my arms. She found some liquid soap and cream, and within three days the rash was essentially gone. Phuong's also a certified IT person, so she can fix my computer and cell phone. She hooked me up with a second-hand printer that's made my life in my classes with real young students so much better. Phuong is one of those people who does just about everything well. She's been playing tennis for only a few months, but she wins about half our matches. I've been playing a long time, but then again, I'm one of those people who doesn't do much of anything well.
I've been a little tired lately, the result of cleaning up my lifestyle. Fewer cigarettes, less coffee, and more water. I had four classes Saturday and started the day exhausted, so I was expecting a rough time. Just the opposite. All the classes went well and I had a great day. Go figure. I've walked into classes super prepared with what I think is a super lesson plan, and the students have acted like I've got some ugly rash on my arms while I'm teaching. But overall, classes are super.
Speaking of super, Phuong and I have been together for a little over nine months. Happy, happy, happy.
We're waiting for Phuong's interview at the U.S. embassy in July to find out if she can get a visa and come to the U.S. with me. We're hopeful, but I've learned to expect the worst and hope for the best when it comes to this kind of stuff.

Rain, sweat and tears

The rainy season is starting, which means I travel between teaching sites in the rain, either on the back of a bike or on my own bike, and I arrive wet and sweaty. The plastic rain coats sold here are like sweat suits, so the rain mixes with sweat and you smell like a wet dog for the day. The rain just seems to make the locals cold, because the temperature will drop to a brisk 90 degrees F when it storms. The humidity is also about 90 percent. Brrrr. The weather has produced a weird rash on my forearms, which I hope is just a standard heat rash, not some exotic, tropical toxin. Unfortunately, I see a doctor's visit in my future.
I've been drinking lots of water in a lame attempt to get healthier, but the result has been buckets of sweat pouring out of my body 24/7. I've always been a heavy sweater, and the water therapy is only making matters worse.
My daily tennis with Phuong has been fun, hot, and of course, weird. The chuckleheads that play doubles when we finish got into a shouting match the other day, with one guy quitting the match and leaving the court. A guy sort of double-hit a return because the ball hit his frame and strings at the same time and then he "pushed" the ball over the net.  One of his opponents said he hit the ball twice and wanted the point. The shouting ensued, followed by the walk-off.  Whatever.
When Phuong and I play, one guy does robot-like aerobics about 10 feet from me when I serve. Big distraction. The talkers are back, also. Vietnamese is essentially a mono-syllabic, tonal language. The tones can be sharp, so two guys simply chatting sound like they're fighting about spousal infidelity. I got pissed the other day with all the crap going on next to me, so I yelled "screw this", paid my money and left with 15 minutes of time still owed to us. I didn't care about the money -- the tennis is reasonably priced, but I don't pay to be bothered by robot-man or the mouths that roar. Some pretty boy with a David Beckham haircut showed up one day and came on way too strong to Phuong. What a wing-ding this loser was. All I want to do is play a little tennis. Just another day in the life here.
I wanted to go to the U.S. in June, but Phuong couldn't get an interview at the U.S. embassy until July. We'll see what happens. If she can't go, then I'll travel solo.
Two houses are being built directly behind our house, so the melodic sound of construction work starts at 6 a.m. and continues until 6 p.m. And the good news: They work seven days a week. Speaking of melody, a guy on our street died and the mourning requires three days of music, drum pounding and singing. Pretty much around the clock. I respect everyone's religion, unless it involves cutting people's heads off, but kids have school, people have work and I have to sleep. Too bad, I guess. In Ho Chi Minh City, I was told mourners have to rent a hall for their ceremonies. Good idea.
The adult classes I have are pretty quiet, but the kids classes are awesome.  I break the ice with adults by speaking Vietnamese. That way, they can laugh at me and maybe not feel so embarrassed speaking English. The kids don't care so they're a hoot. Kids are great everywhere. Too bad they grow up to be adults who talk way too loud and do aerobics next to me while I play tennis.

Hong Kong is cool, except for tourists

I'm not a people person. Not when it comes to huge crowds of people stampeding you to get ahead in line, or take a picture, or get a piece of chicken at a buffet. Hong Kong is an interesting, beautiful and entertaining city. And the locals seemed pretty well-adapted to the tight spaces and fast pace of life. But the visitors, many from China ... god, the visitors. Phuong and I also fall into that category -- we were visitors -- but we tried our best not to be homo neanderthalensis when we went to Disneyland, Ocean Park, Madame Tussauds and restaurants. As a result, we got shoved, pushed, butted in front of, and had cameras and elbows thrust in our faces by throngs of chuckleheads looking for what they perceived was an advantage. I really liked Hong Kong, but .... well, I guess I'm not a people person.
Disneyland Hong Kong was OK. I've been to Disneyland in the U.S., which is larger and more Disney-esque. I didn't mind that the Hong Kong version wasn't huge. It had the usual stuff, like Lion King, It's a Small World,  photos with Mickey and Minnie, Tomorrowland and more. The parades were well done, but the fireworks show was a bit of a dud. I was surprised by that, but after a long day in humid Hong Kong, a short show was swell with me. A woman crawled between my legs -- on concrete -- so she could stand in front of me and videotape the fireworks. We were standing in our spot for 30 minutes, and she crawled into action three minutes before the show. Gotta love it.
Ocean Park was cool, and the aquarium was excellent, even though a Chinese woman nearly knocked me on my ass while I was taking a picture, and then yelled at me for being in her way. But this behavior was one of the subplots of the trip for me. Maybe I'm too sensitive. I know I'm not a people person.
Tai chi was everywhere, and I loved it. People were practicing in nearly every park. And there are lots of little parks in Hong Kong nestled among the countless highrises and skyscrapers. But people don't flinch at tai chi. On our last day, our bus made an unexplained stop that lasted way too long. So I got out and did my tai chi on the sidewalk. The locals walked around me and honestly didn't give me a second glance. Only the Vietnamese on our travel bus gawked and giggled a little. The tour guide tried to mimic me and one girl came out from the bus to watch a little. Actually, the Vietnamese were cool about it and more or less congratulated me when I got back on the bus. I've been doing tai chi a long, long time, so even though I'm not in great shape, my form wasn't too bad. Phuong didn't seem too humiliated by the whole thing.
Hong Kong food wasn't bad, but I prefer Thai food. But our meals were OK, even with the chicken head on the plate.  Like I noted, the weather is humid and pretty warm, but not like Vietnam. The people weren't overly friendly like Thailand, but they weren't creeps (except for the tourists). Hong Kong reminds me a little of San Francisco. Lots of hills, water, scenery, and things to do.
7-11 is everywhere, but that was convenient since our hotel, the Regal pain in the ass, didn't offer free ice, free internet, or much of anything else. I got hassled at my complimentary breakfast by some turd who insisted I'd have to pay. I'll take the high road and chalk it up to a language barrier.
Phuong and I had four nice days in Hong Kong, and equally important, she got a stamp in her passport that hopefully will lead to a USA travel visa.  Hong Kong is a modern city with no motorbikes to speak of. It focuses on foreign companies and business, food, tai chi and tourism. Too bad the tourism brings in tourists. It's like my old friend Steve Wolfe used to say: California is really great, except for the all the Californians.

Blood on the street

Our neighborhood has been a little gritty lately. I woke up the other morning and Phuong's mom had poured sand across the sidewalk and street in front of our house. Apparently, there was a "domestic dispute" that got physical, with blood spilled in the street and on our sidewalk. Mom wanted to cover the blood. Why the combatants, rumored to be husband and wife,  decided to bleed near our house is a mystery to me. Again, I don't understand. Honestly, I have no other details and don't really care. The White Monkey has his own problems. Later in the week, a guy on a motorbike ran into a 3-year-old girl on the street near our house, causing scrapes and scratches but no major damage. I was told the driver wasn't going very fast, and the little girl was running free in the street, until she got clocked. All is OK. A couple of days later, a guy who was rumored to have been consuming alcohol ran into a telephone-type pole in our 'hood. I was told he went to the hospital here, which I don't recommend unless you're unconscious. I've been there -- unconscious in Bien Hoa and in the hospital. Unconscious is OK but the hospital is iffy. Things have been quiet the past few days, so I'll hope for the best and expect the worst.
I have a suggestion for Vietnam in general and Bien Hoa in particular: Don't use so much plastic. All the little shops put everything in plastic bags. A pack of cigarettes. A box of cookies. Chips. Soda. Everything goes in a plastic bag. When Phuong and I take our nightly walk when I'm not teaching a late class, we see a lot of plastic bags and trash in the street. It seems unnecessary. Another suggestion: Don't let people burn their trash, especially old tires. There's nothing like riding the bike to work and going through a cloud of smoke created by burning rubber. The air in Bien Hoa is nothing to breathe heavily about even without the burning trash -- it's only slightly better than the air in Bakersfield. Recycling is slowly catching on here, but there's still a lot of work and educating to do. And the trash problem isn't just in Vietnam, by the way. It's everywhere I've been. Disappointing.
It's been nasty hot lately, which means temperatures here have been seasonal. It's in the mid-90s every day with humidity about 65 to 75 percent. I think that's why my cuts take so long to heal. I know that's why I have my souvenir (heat rash). I'm very grateful to Dr. Hyde in Yellow Springs for the prescription cream I have for the heat rash. All clear.
Phuong and I are really looking forward to our trip to Hong Kong in a few weeks. It should be fascinating and fun, and it means another stamp in Phuong's passport. Hopefully, that will make a difference when she applies again for a visa to the U.S. I have to go back home for eye work soon, and she really wants to be with me -- and meet my family and friends, see my house, and check out the vibe in Yellow Springs. We're very hopeful she gets approved this time.
When I check the numbers on my blog, I can see what countries my readers are from. I don't have a lot of readers, but the mix of countries is interesting. I was a little surprised to see readers from Kenya, Lebanon, Ukraine, Russia, Cyprus and Egypt. One week I had readers from six of the seven continents. No one in Antarctica reads my blog. I guess the folks there aren't bored enough.  I get a few hits from Peru, which I still miss.
Nothing else exciting to report. Actually, none of this crap was exciting, but it's the best I could come up with. Classes are OK and Phuong and I are very, very happy with our life together. She beat me 6-3 in tennis last week and we tied 5-5 a couple of times. And I still love her.

We have 2 motorbike accidents in one day

Phuong and I were involved in two motorbike accidents this past Tuesday. I was the driver, and of course, Phuong was the passenger. I am pleased to report neither of us were seriously injured and that neither accident was my fault. Both incidents occurred at traffic lights.
The first one happened after our morning tennis. We were going to get our post-match coffee to celebrate my courageous and hard-fought victory. We were stopping at a red light when a man with a woman on the back shot past me and tried to cut me off so he could be ahead of me rather than alongside of me at the light. Since there was only about a foot of space between my bike and some teenager's bike in front of me, the man's bike hit my front tire. The woman's unattractive legs took the brunt of the bump, and she glared at me. I told her in flawless, snarky English that her driver caused the little mishap, and that the White Monkey was innocent until proven guilty. She thought for a moment and seemed to agree, hitting the driver on the back. He laughed and shrugged at me. Off we went.
The second accident was more serious and could have been worse. A few hours later we were going to the supermarket. We were stopped at a red light and we were first in line. The light turned green, I started to go, and then some douchebag comes out of nowhere on the right and hits us. It's really weird because there was no reason for him to be heading in this direction. I suspect he was drunk -- after all, it was almost noon. Anyway, he knocked my bike over on top of me. Phuong brilliantly and instinctively rolled on the road and avoided any injury. I banged up my left arm and left knee (oh god, I hope my tennis game is OK) and my left mirror was knocked off. Very minor stuff. And the offending driver never stopped. He looked back at us on the ground and drove off. No one made a move to stop him as he got away.  I'm told that's not done in Vietnam. In fact, the other bike riders acted pissed off that we were in their way and slowing down traffic as we got up off the ground. The attitude here seems to be (and the locals tell me this): Take care of yourself and screw the other guy. I see it on the bikes, in the stores, in coffee shop lines, everywhere. This country has been through a lot, so I sort of understand, even though everyone tells me: You don't understand. Honestly, the accidents didn't bother me as much as the people's attitudes about them. But I'm just a white monkey.
Phuong and I love our morning tennis, but the guys who play after us come while we're still on the court make a spectacle of themselves. They try to talk with Phuong during our matches. One guy circles the court while we're playing, swinging his arms like he's swinging a racket. Others talk really loud. Some eat and talk with their mouths full. After one of our matches, I put my open tea on a sink next to the court because there was nowhere else to put it. Immediately, one of the guys goes to the sink and starts spitting his mucous-filled saliva next to my tea. Shockingly, I left the tea there. Actually, some of the guys are wonderful so it's no big deal. But when I'm distracted, my tennis game slips. It's not good to begin with, so the commotion makes matters even worse. Whatever.
One more piece of cheerful news. It's 95 degrees every day, so my heat rash/souvenir has returned. I prepared this time, however, and brought medicine from the U.S.
Phuong and I are very happy together ... well, I'm very happy, and we're planning a trip to Hong Kong next month. School is OK, so other than psychotic motorbike drivers, of which there are many, and wacko tennis players, of which there are a few, life is wonderful. I can thank Phuong for that.

Karaoke in your face (and ears)

Karaoke is HUGE here. Enormous. In fact, people in our neighborhood have karaoke connected to their TVs and extremely loud sound systems. That means you get the treat of hearing these guys, and it's mostly men sitting on the floor in their homes by themselves, singing Vietnamese classics that can be heard for miles around until 10 at night.  And if that's not enough, there are coffee shops nearby where the singing can be heard over even greater distances until 11. And there are karaoke studios (I guess that's what you'd call them) all over town. Wonderful. All Vietnamese believe they can sing very well ... and every man believes he is a great lover. You decide what's true. Actually, the words to the hymns at mass are shown on TV screens all over the church, so karaoke is in our souls here as well.
Sunday church is always a wild ride. We go Sunday at 6:30 p.m. because I have to teach 3 to 5 p.m., so traffic is intense. Even more intense is the jockeying for parking behind the church. Bikes zip past you to get the "better" parking space and bikes cut in front of you as you're about to pull into a space. A guy almost broadsided (he came within inches) a girl last Sunday as she was turning right to park her bike. I had stopped because she was turning to park, and the guy passed me on the right and just missed her. He was holding a small child, by the way. We were 15 minutes early for the service at that time, so I didn't understand any of it. But then again, as the Vietnamese always tell me: You don't understand.
I do understand that the mix of more cars and boatloads of bikes isn't a particularly good one. The car drivers think they're still on a bike, so they cut in front, pull out, and lay on the horn. The bike riders say some curse words, some of which I've learned, at the car drivers. The car drivers can't hear over their horns.  Since no one pays attention to traffic laws, it's quite dangerous and getting more so.
Back to mass. Our service is performed by a priest who has bad eyes. I think he has prescription sunglasses, which he wears during the service. I'm sympathetic because my eyes have issues as well. The alter boys come up and I think they whisper the words he's supposed to say. He plugs along and gets the job done. I like him, but I don't understand much of what he says.
One of the truly nice spots in Bien Hoa is Lido coffee shop not far from our house. Phuong and I usually go there after our 7 a.m. tennis. Lido is next to the Dong Nai River, so there's always a breeze. Boats go by, giving you something to look at, and half the time the people in the boats yell "hello." Sadly, all this is changing. Houses are being built between Lido and the river. Tons of dirt was (were?) brought in, shrinking the river's width and obscuring the wonderful view of the river. Heavy equipment has begun construction of the houses. Besides losing the nice view, it's noisy as hell. The one positive: Lido's coffee rocks whether you can see the river or not.
We had nice weather for about three weeks, but those days are gone. It's so hot, the students aren't complaining any more about air conditioning making it a chilly 89 degrees in the classroom. They just put on jackets when it gets below 90.
I've always enjoyed the students here, and now they're even more enjoyable since they've come back to school from the Tet holiday. Not sure why, but I'm not complaining. Maybe it's their new year's resolution not to make teacher John's life difficult. I approve.

A hectic trip to spicy Thailand

Phuong's passport now has a stamp from another country. We went to Thailand for five days and it was a whirlwind trip to the say the least.
We did the following in a very short time: rode a bus everywhere; saw a food/dance/comedy show called Nanta; ate bland, mediocre international buffets; saw a tiger show; saw a snake show; ate bland, mediocre international buffets; rode a bus everywhere; went from Bangkok to Pattaya; took a boat ride to a small island and went swimming (actually, I taught Phuong how to swim); went to a sheep petting farm; saw a laser etching of the king's son on the side of a big rock; tried to see the queen; went to a wretched alligator skin store crawling with Chinese tourists; went to a silly 3-D museum; ate lots of exotic fruit; rode an elephant; saw a transexual international cultural show that was awesome; went shopping in Bangkok; got a massage in our hotel room; and ate marvelous Thai street food.
The highlights: street food; transexual international cultural show; the beach and water.
The lowlights: the bus rides; international buffets; alligator store with Chinese tourists; the bus rides and international buffets.
Bangkok is a very modern city. It's packed with freeways and cars, and they ride on the wrong side (the left side) of the road. There aren't nearly as many motorbikes in Thailand as there are in Vietnam. Downtown Bangkok is full of skyscrapers, street food, cars, incense, statues and people. Pattaya is a beach town (more like a city) about three hours by bus from Bangkok. It's a little more laid-back and a little less congested than Bangkok.  We took a bouncy boat ride to an island near Pattaya and went swimming. The salt water was very clear, and we had a nice time. Should have stayed longer, but we got back on the bus.
I like ladies, and boys are OK when they're my students and they behave well. But the blend of ladies and boys isn't my cup of papaya juice. There were many, many lady-boys in Thailand. Either that, or a lot of the pretty girls have Adam's apples and stubble. To each their own, of course, and it's no skin off my butt. Actually, the transexual cultural show we saw had lots of singing, dancing and extravagant costumes, and it was one of our favorite parts of the trip. So there.
The people in Thailand are very nice and polite. Everyone smiles and bows their heads when they greet you. We went with a tour group of Vietnamese folk, and other than cutting in line and reaching across my face at the international buffets, they were quite nice.  One lady in particular was helpful, offering mouthwash to Phuong, who threw up every time we rode the bus the first two days. Phuong had a rough start to the trip, but once we discovered motion sickness pills, she was fine. Phuong found a great outdoor restaurant our last night in Bangkok with spectacular (and spicy) food. By the way, Phuong is an awesome travel companion, and she looks hot in a bathing suit.
I'd certainly recommend a visit to Thailand, and I'd definitely recommend the food, if you can handle the spice. I'd also advise you to avoid international buffets, unnecessary bus rides, and beautiful women with stubble and Adam's apples (unless that's your thing -- to each their own). Thailand gets a thumbs-up, but honestly, it's great to be back in Vietnam, where Tet holiday is in full swing and we were greeted by two scorpions in our living room. There really is no place like home.
Note: I spell transexual with one "s" because internet research informed me that transexuals prefer this spelling to "transsexual."  What the hell do I know?

The rat returns and other issues

Phuong and I were sitting in our kitchen talking two nights ago when a rat slithered under our outside door and into our porch off the kitchen. I didn't see it because I was flapping my jaw as usual, but Phuong spotted it. Phuong got real nervous, saying she can't stand rats. I'm a coward and was ready to stand on a chair. So Phuong opens the back door, grabs a broom, goes onto the porch and starts flogging the rat with the broom. The rat scooted out the open door. Today, Phuong showed me an apple she left out in our kitchen to ripen, and it was half-eaten. You could see the rat's teeth marks where the apple had been chewed. At Phuong's request, her brother is going block the openings in our kitchen and outside doors by screwing strips of metal onto them. Whew, I'm glad I handled that situation so well.
I had to give up my daily walks. People kept hassling me. Some guys would whistle at me (must be my tight shorts), others would yell "Hey you! hey you!" and a lot of teenagers would say the exaggerated and obnoxious "Helllloooo!" to me. Adding insult to insult was the fact that two places I frequented to buy flowers and nuoc mia tried to rip me off, charging me twice the going rate of what they charged me before. And these are people that see me three or four times a week. Now that's smart, customer-centric business. And one woman wouldn't give me my money back when I refused to pay her higher prices. I actually had to snatch my cash from her wrinkly paws. And finally, one teen on a motorbike nearly ran me over, going out of his way to brush past me, shouting "excuuuse meeee, excuuuse meeee." I was going to give him a forearm to the head and knock him off his bike, but there was a teenage girl on the back of his bike. She apparently admired his behavior, because she was laughing and pointing at me the whole time. Maybe I'm crazy, but I think the boy was showing off for the girl. I guess it doesn't matter. Long story short ... the walk is finished ... forever. Oh, and I took my walks between 10:30 a.m. and 1 p.m. Must be a dangerous time to walk here.
Phuong and I are heading to Thailand on Sunday. Can't wait. Even bought some sun block.
Our tennis matches are getting more heated, and it isn't just the weather. Our time expired with the set tied at 5-5 the other day. And there's lots of running now because the points last longer. Fun stuff, even at 7 a.m. After tennis, we grab a coffee by the river.  It's quite pleasant. In fact, I never get hassled when I'm with Phuong. Some guys may gawk at her, but everyone has been respectful. When the White Monkey is alone, it's a different story.
Classes are going well, especially the kids' classes.  Students are focused more on tet than English, which I totally understand. Just like December in the U.S.
I'm cutting back on my teaching hours, which seemed to please the school, and probably the students as well. I want to spend more time with Phuong.
One last note: This is my 100th blog entry. Maybe I'll celebrate by taking a walk. Nah, bad idea.

Rejected, but it's not over yet

Phuong applied for a tourist visa to the USA so she could come there with me in June when I get some work done on my left eye. She had an interview at the embassy in Ho Chi Minh City and was rejected after two questions: Where's your job contract? Where's your bank statements? Of course, she has no job contract because she's self-employed and we didn't know to bring her bank statements. Interview over -- game, set and match. We can apply again, which we will with hopefully more positive results.
Tet holiday is coming Feb. 19 or so, and everyone here is getting wound up. Lots of absences from class, crazy bike riding (as always) and big crowds everywhere. Prices also rise near Tet. And there's still some time before the big holiday. Brilliantly, Phuong and I are going to Thailand for five days leading up to Tet, so we'll miss the real insanity. We're going to Bangkok and Pattaya beach, so we're pretty stoked about the whole thing.
We're still playing tennis three or four times a week, and I'm devastated to report she has beaten me a couple of times. The sun was in my eyes one time, and I drank too much coffee the other time, but I'm not one to make excuses. Actually, I tell Phuong I hate her because she's gotten quite good in a really short time. She understands, but doesn't care and competes really hard. Oh, and I didn't agree with a couple of her calls on shots that I hit. I'm sure they painted the line, and as everyone knows, my eyesight is amazing.
Some nights I teach at two different locations, and the bike ride is quite the thrill. But after almost two years here, I understand the etiquette. People can cut in front of you, pull out on you, and never use their turn signals. They can stop for no reason, run red lights, ride on the sidewalks, and generally put your life in jeopardy at every intersection. But here's the catch, or etiquette. You can do the same stuff, and no one really squawks. I've pulled some really stupid stunts on the bike, and the other drivers didn't flinch. Rules of the road, I guess.
Phuong and I no longer get the creepy looks when we're out together. I think people are used to seeing us together all the time, so the novelty has worn off. The only place that's a drag for me is COOP Mart, where teenagers say really silly "Hellos" to me, people stare at me, everyone cuts in line or bangs into me, and the workers there ignore everything I try to say in Vietnamese. I very rarely go there, obviously, but it's the only place that sells this soap I really like, so when I do go I'll buy every bar in the store.
We've had a stretch of really nice weather here, but the heat is just around the corner. But mornings are very nice, and the 6:30 a.m. bike ride to tennis can actually be, dare I say it, chilly.
Miss my family and friends in the USA, but life here with Phuong is fantastic, so no real complaints.

OK, I lost my temper

I lost my cool the other day. For the most part, I've accepted the cultural differences here that I don't care for, such as people cutting in line, or ignoring driving lanes and traffic lights, or telling me how fat and old I am. Some (not all) folk are extremely blunt. But I've been extremely Gandhi-like. Until Wednesday morning. Phuong and I were playing tennis when the next group showed up for doubles. They were 20 minutes early, so they sat courtside, and one guy was talking so loud while we were finishing a set that he was a distraction, to say the least. We finished the set anyway and were volleying, but the guy kept flapping his jaw the entire time. His partners talked, but weren't nearly as loud or obnoxious. I looked over a couple of times, but the big-mouth didn't give a crap. So I took action and slammed a tennis ball at him, and it hit the fence next to his head so hard that he flinched. He responded by asking: "What wrong you? What wrong you?" I gave him the icy Vietnamese stare and said in my wretched Vietnamese: "Toi khong tot." I think that means I'm no good, but my Vietnamese is wretched. His friends kind of smirked, so I think they enjoyed my hot-tempered reaction. The big-mouth toned it down because I got his attention. I hate to be an a--hole, but sometimes there's no other option.
Phuong and I have an odd neighbor (and who doesn't?). This guy was singing karaoke into his gigantic sound system at 10:44 p.m. so loud that our walls were shaking.We could barely hear each other talk. You could hear this num-nuts all over the neighborhood. But nobody complained. That's not done here, I'm told, because people don't want trouble. Screw that. For me, this was too much, so we knocked on his door (actually, Phuong had to walk into the house because he and his wife couldn't hear the knocking). We asked politely if he could turn off his music and singing, and he did. Problem solved.
I guess I'm just too big for this country. Our bathroom mirror is so short it reflects my chest and stomach. I have to squat down to see my face in the mirror. Our sink is tiny, and Phuong was upset when I was tossing dishes around due to lack of space.
Food is great here because Phuong is a great cook -- we have octopus, beef, shrimp, awesome chicken, clams, duck, kim chi and everything else. That's why I'm so fat, or so I'm told.
Phuong has applied for a travel visa and we hope to visit the USA in June. We're keeping our fingers crossed.
Classes and students are wonderful. I returned to Long long long long Thanh on Wednesday after some time away, and it was cool to see the kids again. One class was shocked at my massive frame. Good times.
Oh, one funny thing. I saw a woman cut in line to get communion from the priest at last Sunday's mass. Had to laugh at that, although no one really smiles during church services here.