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.