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.