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.
