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.
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
Thursday, March 5, 2015
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.
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.
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