When you're an old White Monkey, what do you do for fun? These days, I sit with my wife Phuong on our bed and we watch our daughter Joanna sleep. And we talk about how wonderful she is. Now that's entertainment. Joanna sleeps with her arms raised like she just won the Wimbledon final. She smiles a lot in her sleep, no doubt dreaming about her dad's funny face. Sometimes she sleeps with her eyes open, just like her mom. Creepy. Joanna is six weeks old and she seems to be doing just fine. Her baby acne is gone thanks to my suggested treatment of putting her in a cold room and taking off the hat, gloves and towels that she was wrapped in by her mom and grandmom, Joanna doesn't seem to enjoy the heat here -- just like her dad. After all, she's got half of my genes. Her skin is white at this point, and her hair is brown with a little red and a little blonde. It's pretty thin for now. Her eyes are green, according to Phuong, but I think they're brown. She's pretty big, like her dad, but fortunately, her eyes and face resemble Phuong's, in my opinion. That's great news because my wife is beautiful. Phuong is an incredibly doting mom and she is absolutely devoted to making sure everything is wonderful with Joanna. I love 'em both, of course. However, I almost choked on my chocolate milk the other day when Phuong mentioned that Joanna really needs a little brother or sister.
I'm becoming friends with the Hu tieu girls and their mom. They give me free Vietnamese desserts when I buy Hu tieu (about twice a week) and I give them cookies and little cakes in return. Phuong says their Hu tieu has too much sugar in the soup, but I like it. They give me a good-sized portion and I leave a little tip and we're all happy. As it should be.
I bought a backpack today at a little store on Vo Thi Sau, where I walk every day. When you walk into a store here, the clerks come rushing at you and won't give you a moment's peace. When I was looking at the backpack I wanted, I asked the girl "how much" in Vietnamese. Granted, my Vietnamese sucks and doesn't meet the ridiculously stringent standard of the locals, but I said "bao nhieu?" as well as I needed to -- I suspect most people here would get it. But this girl didn't understand. I think she was trying to sell me a more expensive backpack. Ah, but the store owner, who knows me from my walks and previous purchases there, screamed BAO NHIEU at the girl and smiled at me. I'll have to get that guy a Christmas card this year.
The store also sells baseball-type caps with Hollister, Vans, Nike and such embroidered on them. I guess they're knock-offs, but some of them seem legit. Who knows and who cares? They're 30,000 Dong each (about $1.50), so I've bought about 25. They're always on a table outside the store so I don't have to deal with the clerks. I tried to give a couple to my son Alec when he visited, but he said he's not a cap guy. I'm not either, but I don't want my face fried by the sun here, so I cap out.
My right shoulder was bothering me a little this week, and I mentioned it to my massage girl Chi. Man, did she go to work on me, twisting my right arm, punching my shoulder, squeezing the hell out of my shoulder and arm, and cracking my elbow, wrist and fingers. Son of a gun, the shoulder is fine now. Chi can't be taller than 4-foot-eight, and she has the tiniest hands I've ever seen. But she's strong, gritty, and gives a great massage. No nonsense. She takes her job seriously and I really like her.
Classes are going well, but I do teach lots of little kids. In addition to English, I feel compelled to teach them not to curse, not to throw trash on the floor, how to say please, thank you, no thank you, sorry and excuse me, not to screw up their faces and say WHAT? when they don't understand something, not to wave their hand in a White Monkey's face to say no, not to cut in line, and to always allow ladies to go first. All that additional stuff is so much more challenging than the English because it goes against what these kids have seen and experienced most of their lives. We're making progress, although I admit that sometimes I get frustrated. But these are good kids and they want to do the right thing. They're learning. I'm not trying to change anyone's culture, but I want them to understand how successful they can be when they treat others with kindness and respect. These are lessons I wish I had more of -- or paid more attention to -- when I was a kid.
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