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.