I'll preface this blog by saying that many Vietnamese people I have met in my four years here are some of the nicest people I've met anywhere. Especially the women. My wife Phuong, my daughter Joanna, and mother-in-law Muon are numbers 1, 2, 3 in niceness. My coffee waitress could be No. 4. But ...
I was waiting in line at Metro supermarket to have my corn, apples and zucchini weighed by the produce lady. I was second in line and the family behind me struck up a conversation. The husband spoke adequate English, so we talked the usual stuff: Where do you work? Where do you live? How long have you been here? But while the husband and I were chatting, I noticed his wife sneaking around behind me and putting her stuff on the scale because the lady in front of me had finished. The wife had used her husband to distract me so she could cut in line. And she had a ton of crap. I was pissed, but I stayed cool. I simply removed her items from the scale and calmly told her that some Americans have been known to kill people for cutting in line. I also said that I wasn't one of those Americans, but that cutting in line was rude and that it really makes me angry. And I said this super calmly, really. The husband agreed, so I put my items on the scale, and everybody went home happy. Sorry, but I just won't accept line-cutting. I guess it's my "culture."
I'm not sure why everybody seems to be in a hurry in Vietnam. They ride their motorbikes on the sidewalks all the time to save a second or two going around a corner. I was hit two more times by motorbikes while walking on the sidewalk this past week, and both times the women who hit me laughed. I'm not sure I fully understand the humor here. But since I carry a cane every time I walk, the bikes can't get close enough to do any real damage, although I have to be wary of the bikes that come up from behind me on the sidewalk. One girl rode so close to me that I had to put my cane up in front of my fat, bloated, Biafran belly, and body, to protect myself. The mirror on the girl's bike hit my cane and was knocked a little crooked. She made ululation noises, just like the douchebag that hit me before Christmas. She acted like it was my fault, which I'm sure it was. I now realize I'm an a--hole for using the sidewalk to walk. It's hard to get respect when you're a White Monkey.
Phuong and I tried to walk Joanna in her stroller at 6 a.m., but motorbikes put the kibosh on that idea. We were crossing a street in our neighborhood so we could walk along the river, and this yerkoff and his shirtless toadie came around the corner so fast that the yerkoff's knee was almost touching the ground, like in a motocross race. They almost hit Phuong and Joanna, laid on the horn, and laughed at us. I begged them to come back so I could slowly and painfully kill them, but they don't have the ball bearings for that kind of confrontation. What really pissed me off is that I didn't have my cane and I let Phuong and Joanna get a few feet ahead of me in the street. Lesson learned.
Phuong, Joanna and I have been sick the past week, but we are finally getting better. Joanna was teething, and now has two bottom teeth to show for it. Phuong had the flu and her eye is almost completely healed, and I had a horrible cold sore in my mouth that refused to heal. But my friend Joy, who just moved ahead of my coffee waitress in the niceness race, suggested I treat the cold sore with a balm she gave me last Christmas. I found the balm, used it, and the cold sore was gone the next day. History. Out of here. Joy is now in my Hall of Fame, surely an honor she must be proud of.
Joanna will be 6 months old on Monday, Jan. 9. She rolls, sort of crawls, puts everything in her mouth, especially if it involves my computer wiring, and now stands when she holds on to something, like the side of the bed. She's so wonderful, and she's lucky to have such a dedicated, caring mom like Phuong.
My coffee waitress gave me flan on Thursday after I gave her a couple pieces of candy, which I do daily. So, life is good. I want to add that almost all of my classes are fantastic. The students, even the ones who hate me, are wonderful. I love teaching and my employer, VMG, is quite reasonable considering that the White Monkey can be very demanding.
I point out the negative stuff because of the danger factor and I need something to write about. Also, Americans love to complain. Just look at our president-elect. So, as Phuong loves to say to me: "John, listen, listen. SHUT UP!"
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