Phuong's mom is very helpful. She brings us food, sews our clothes, buys diapers for Joanna, and brings over lots of toilet paper for me. But ... God love her ... she speaks very little English and understands even less. The other night I needed to make change for a 500,000-dong bill.-- we're paid in big bills at work, just like Peru, and street vendors and some shops struggle to make change, just like Peru. So I gave the big bill to mom, and tried to explain in Vietnamese that I needed change, or smaller money. Mom looked so happy. She smiled and said in OK English: "Thank you, John." Then she put the bill in her pocket and went home. That money was gone, never to be seen again. I told Phuong and we laughed about it. Her mom is so nice. I'm more than happy to donate to the cause.
But I'm not happy to donate to VinMart or Bien Hoa Market vendors anymore. VinMart is a weird supermarket that's part clothing store. It's a healthy walk from our house and I've gone there in the past to get Q-tips and soap and some exercise. The supermarket is on the second floor and they sell the usual supermarket stuff, except they don't sell bread. I asked "co banh mi" (have bread) in Vietnamese and the older ladies looked at me like I'm a White Monkey or something. No answer from them. They spoke to each other in Vietnamese and laughed at me. This is the all-too-frequent interaction I have with the real locals here. But a younger girl who happened to walk by asked in poor English what I wanted. I responded with my Vietnamese bread question and she said "khong co" (don't have). I thanked her profusely. When I checked out with my Q-tips, soap and three boxes of cookies and no bread, the girls took my money, gave me a receipt and then gestured that I go to the next register. I'm not sure what was going on, but I played along. I had my bathroom stuff in a bag in my hand, but they had the cookies. The girl started to put the cookies in another bag, but I motioned that I'd put everything in one bag, and started to jam the cookies in the bag with Q-tips and soap. The girl called security and he rushed over to me and sternly motioned for me to take the cookies out of the bag. You know, this is crap, so I demanded my money back, which I got, sarcastically thanked the clerks and security guard, and went home, where my ears are still dirty. Bien Hoa Market does the same bullslip that San Camillo Market in Arequipa, Peru, did. Try to cheat the White Monkey for a dollar or two and not care about future business. There's a language barrier, to be sure, but there's also an intelligence barrier. The low-life cheaters think they're smart, but I've got a paper signed by a psychiatrist that states my IQ is 107. Soooo ..... nah-nah-nah-nah-boo-bee.
A few odds and ends from the week:
* Every time Phuong calls for a taxi, the driver has no idea how to get to our house. We're near a couple of huge coffee shops which are well known. We're two turns off one of the biggest streets in Bien Hoa. It takes at least 30 minutes and at least two phone calls for the driver to find us. Then we have to describe where we're going ...
* Joanna got a vaccine -- taken orally -- for her stomach. The doctors/government here gives you a 5-in-1 vaccine for a bunch of other diseases, and warns you that your baby could develop a fever from the multiple vaccines in one big shot. We opted to pay money to have the vaccines separated to reduce fever risk.
* Phuong has her interview at the U.S. Embassy this week to get a visa so she and Joanna can join me in the U.S. this November and December. Fingers crossed.
* Joanna likes to raise her right fist and focus on it. (See photo on right.) Joanna, mom and dad believe black lives matter, white lives matter, Vietnamese lives matter, all lives matter.
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