We're into our new house, but not without the usual trials and tribulations that I've learned to be patient with here. Construction workers were doing finishing work while we were living here. We had to tell them to not smoke in the house and snuff out their cigarette butts on our new tile floors. And, of course, they wanted to sleep on our living room floor from 11:30 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. every day -- nap time in Vietnam. The cigarette butts didn't seem to bother them while they napped. But they were nice enough folk, and, after several tries, finished the job mostly to our satisfaction. They did turn off our cold water one time for some unknown reason and all of our water was hot enough to make coffee from the tap. Really. The shower was especially challenging. After a week or so of nonsense like this, the job was done and we've settled in.
The house is built for Vietnamese people, of course, which means I've cracked my head half a dozen times on shelves and cabinets. I slammed my head above my right eye so hard on the corner of a glass shelf -- that Phuong wanted put up -- that I went down and was almost out for the count. There's a little golf-ball-sized lump above my right eye, but no big deal.
I got a massage today and the massage girl didn't understand -- or care -- that the little lump on my head hurt when she applied intense pressure to it with her thumb and index finger.
After church service on Sundays, Phuong and I stand on the balcony overlooking the parking lot and wait for the insane motorbike traffic (and riders) to clear out. While we were waiting last week, we watched (only for a second or two) as two boys about 10 years old peed on the side of the church. I understand when you gotta go, you gotta go, but there was a restroom less than 50 feet away.
There's no point in keeping a secret any longer. Phuong has a really big belly. Either she's been drinking boat-loads of beer, or she's pregnant. The answer is "B" since Phuong only shares a beer with me once in a while, and I'm drinking one beer at a time only once in a while. Needless to say, but I'll say it anyway: We're thrilled. The first three months were unpleasant for Phuong. She had morning sickness daily, and local doctors misdiagnosed her with a 50-50 chance for having rubella, which is very bad news for a yet-to-be-born baby. She went to a Ho Chi Minh City hospital and was pronounced healthy. She's feeling much better now and eating and sleeping and cleaning lots. We're anxious, of course, given my very advanced age. And this is Phuong's first baby. But so far, so good.
We're doing the paperwork to get married, and the paperwork is quite daunting. There have been multiple trips to the courthouse, and I have to try to get U.S. documents stamped at the U.S. Embassy in Ho Chi Minh City so local officials will accept them. We had to go to the local mental hospital last week to prove we were sane. Phuong passed and they let me slide. They tested my IQ, and I cheated on the test and tallied a 107 IQ. I guess I'm not as stupid as I look, which contradicts what Sister Alvernia screamed at me in front of the entire student body at St. Mary Magdalen about 54 years ago. But I'm not one to hold a grudge. The White Monkey is becoming patient, persistent and ... forgiving.
Thursday, January 28, 2016
Sunday, January 10, 2016
No stench, no motel -- we're moving
There's good news from the John and Phuong camp. This week, we'll be leaving our 'ho-motel, where we've both gotten very ill this week, where gnarly-looking guys who smell like they've never showered arrive with young girls in super-short shorts so they can rent a room for 17 minutes, and where the owners' dog barks 22 hours a day. The family that runs the 'ho-motel is OK, but their son, who's 10, throws stuff at Phuong and shows her a knife and scissors like he's going to make mayhem. Phuong's no wallflower, and she has put the kid in his place since the parents don't seem too upset by the boy's sociopathic behavior. We'll move into our new house on Wednesday, and we're so excited that we've been barking 22 hours a day and chasing each other around while holding knives and scissors. It's been a rough few months here, but Phuong wanted to be near our house while it's being built. Three more days ...
I'm out of the tennis business. The guys only play doubles, and since I'm the only white monkey there, nobody really wants me on their "team." (It's interesting, humbling and educational to be a minority here.) I went one day, and they complained that the guy who gets me as a partner will surely lose. The next time I went, I played two very quick matches -- ha ha, my team did lose -- and then I watched for an hour because I wasn't invited to play again that day. Of course they demanded I pay since my side lost. No big deal to me because I can afford it, but I don't like paying to sit and watch. Ever since Phuong stopped playing, tennis is no fun anymore. Now, I'm so done with it. Boo-hoo.
Phuong bought "black chicken" on Saturday. Really, the chicken is black. And kind of small. Phuong said it was a Chinese dish since it was served in soup made with Chinese herbs and vegetables. Quite tasty, but not much meat on the little black chicken. It reminded me of the movie Eraserhead.
I've got several new classes -- a 7-year-old girl snapped "What the hell?" at me when I gave her and the other students an alphabet worksheet, which only a handful could do The other teachers thought this was hilarious, which makes me wonder if they accept this type of behavior from their students when they teach. Aw, what the hell do I know?
I don't teach my two favorite classes anymore, which is a bummer for me. But I teach a lot of beginners, and they're great. They try hard and I can get them on the path to proper pronunciation early before the bad habits set in. The kids learn fast (the ones who want to learn, that is) and they speak English very well.
I do some exercise in the park near our 'ho-motel, and folks leave me alone. I'm very grateful. But the park is next to a canal that smells like feces, and people throw their trash everywhere. One couple was having a lovely dinner in the dark next to the feces canal. I don't know about them, but I almost got threw up.
The line-cutting was spectacular last week. I got cut in front of: at a gas station; at church; at the hospital; at the pharmacy; and, of course, always at the supermarket. Phuong got burned at the hospital by some dufus. You expect this selfish behavior from others when you ride the bike. People act like they don't see you. But I'm always a little surprised when people do it in your face after you've been waiting in line. I lose it every once in a while and yell at somebody, but overall I'm very proud of my patience here. I can thank Phuong for that. I have something no one else in the world has -- a close relationship and bond with a woman who knows how to handle the White Monkey.
I'm out of the tennis business. The guys only play doubles, and since I'm the only white monkey there, nobody really wants me on their "team." (It's interesting, humbling and educational to be a minority here.) I went one day, and they complained that the guy who gets me as a partner will surely lose. The next time I went, I played two very quick matches -- ha ha, my team did lose -- and then I watched for an hour because I wasn't invited to play again that day. Of course they demanded I pay since my side lost. No big deal to me because I can afford it, but I don't like paying to sit and watch. Ever since Phuong stopped playing, tennis is no fun anymore. Now, I'm so done with it. Boo-hoo.
Phuong bought "black chicken" on Saturday. Really, the chicken is black. And kind of small. Phuong said it was a Chinese dish since it was served in soup made with Chinese herbs and vegetables. Quite tasty, but not much meat on the little black chicken. It reminded me of the movie Eraserhead.
I've got several new classes -- a 7-year-old girl snapped "What the hell?" at me when I gave her and the other students an alphabet worksheet, which only a handful could do The other teachers thought this was hilarious, which makes me wonder if they accept this type of behavior from their students when they teach. Aw, what the hell do I know?
I don't teach my two favorite classes anymore, which is a bummer for me. But I teach a lot of beginners, and they're great. They try hard and I can get them on the path to proper pronunciation early before the bad habits set in. The kids learn fast (the ones who want to learn, that is) and they speak English very well.
I do some exercise in the park near our 'ho-motel, and folks leave me alone. I'm very grateful. But the park is next to a canal that smells like feces, and people throw their trash everywhere. One couple was having a lovely dinner in the dark next to the feces canal. I don't know about them, but I almost got threw up.
The line-cutting was spectacular last week. I got cut in front of: at a gas station; at church; at the hospital; at the pharmacy; and, of course, always at the supermarket. Phuong got burned at the hospital by some dufus. You expect this selfish behavior from others when you ride the bike. People act like they don't see you. But I'm always a little surprised when people do it in your face after you've been waiting in line. I lose it every once in a while and yell at somebody, but overall I'm very proud of my patience here. I can thank Phuong for that. I have something no one else in the world has -- a close relationship and bond with a woman who knows how to handle the White Monkey.
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