Coffee from poop; cleaned up sidewalks; more poop

Phuong's mom gave us the world's greatest coffee. It's called Con Chon, which very roughly translated means animal chon. From my rapid research, the chon is an Asian palm civet or weasel-like critter. It eats coffee beans, apparently selecting only the best, richest and ripest beans for unknown reasons. The chon poops out the beans pretty much in their entirety. The beans are only partially digested. The poop is cleaned off the beans (hopefully), and then you have the best and most expensive coffee in the world. Quite honestly, it's the shit.
The coffee comes from Da Lat, where the world's best yogurt is made as well. If Phuong is unable to obtain a visa to enter the U.S., we'll look at possibly relocating to Da Lat. The weather is cooler, the coffee is good, and it's smaller and less crowded than Bien Hoa. But we're concerned about schools for Joanna, which is why we're pushing so hard to get Phuong to the U.S. We've put our hopes in the hands of a very capable attorney, so we're optimistic. The process will be long and slow, however.
 Police and local officials cracked down on sidewalk encroachment for a few days, meaning all the folks who sell food, clothes, utensils and other miscellaneous stuff on the sidewalks disappeared for a couple of days. For those two days, I could walk on the sidewalk without having to step around vendors or dodge motorbikes or fear for my health and safety. It was wonderful, even though temporary.
The walk remains great entertainment for me. I've settled on Lido by the river as my coffee shop of choice. That means no young females flirting with my money when I buy and drink my coffee. And Lido understands me when I say Cafe Sua Nong. The Hu Tieu girls moved to bigger digs near Chinh, the girl with the funny hat who sells me fruit. The woman down the street who sells fruit and used to scowl at me is now my friend after I complimented her new hair style. And an exotic fruit shop opened where I've made friends with the owner and her mom because I buy expensive currants and blueberries there. People keep pointing at my belly and rubbing it when I walk or teach, but I try to explain that I've been doing lots of tai chi lately and what they're rubbing isn't belly fat, but my ever- expanding chi reservoir. My friend Richard will understand.
Poop becomes a topic of critical importance when you have a baby, or a cup of wonderful coffee. No gory details are needed, but parents worry a lot when the plumbing stops working for a day or two. Joanna's life is based on routine, thanks to Phuong, and No. 2 in the late morning is part of that routine.  Exercises with dad when she wakes up are also part of Joanna's routine. So when Joanna missed her delivery of No. 2 for a couple of days, it was cause of great concern. We responded with blended peaches and pears and Joanna responded with a beautiful poop.  No photo needed. The same concern exists for older folks as well, as I realized all too well when I helped take care of my dad before he died, and had my gall bladder removed five months ago, But this is a subject for a blog way down the road, I hope.
I was doing a conversation exercise in class in which one student has to pick the correct question word and the next student had to answer the question. The first student correctly picked "Where" for Where do elephants live? The next student answered: In a zoo. Good stuff.
I've gone more than a year now without a cigarette.  No desire to smoke, unless it's a Hamilton from Peru.

Ghosts; sheep placenta; neighbors; what bit me?

I've been in Vietnam for a little more than four years, and I keep learning more about the cuisine and culture all the time. I now know that fish oil sucks, the family is tops, and strangers here can be extremely friendly and helpful no matter how rude they are on their motorbikes. But, of course, there's more. For example:
I had a class the other night of high school kids and young adults, and the lesson in the book was about exotic vacations -- stuff like walking the Inca Trail; taking a submarine to the wreck of the Titanic, searching for Yeti in the Himalayas; and paragliding in Madagascar, or some such place.  Only three of the 12 students in this class have a passport -- and they use that to go to Singapore -- and maybe one or two could find Madagascar on a map. In other words, the lesson was a struggle. But the class came to life, so to speak, when the topic of ghosts came up. One of the vacations involved spending the night in a castle that is reputed to be haunted, So I asked the class: Who believes in ghosts? Of the 12 students, 13 raised their hands (just kidding, but all 12 raised). They're believers. I'm not, but I did tell a weird and true story about a creepy hand I saw (or thought I saw) crawl out from under a bed in my house the day my grandpa died. I was six years old, so who knows? The class was fixated on the story (I am quite the story-teller, or BS-er, if you prefer). One student said he saw a ghost near Hanoi. These stories energized our class and the last hour together was productive and fun. I told this story to my wife, and she sort of admitted that she believes ghosts exist. Phuong asked me: "If you saw one, you'd believe in them, wouldn't you?" That question is a good sample of an argument/discussion with someone here. If I saw a unicorn, I'm pretty sure I'd believe in unicorns, too. Phuong's mother is also a believer -- in ghosts, not unicorns. Phuong and her mom talk about a haunted house down the street, a haunted tree from Phuong's youth, and spirits and ghosts at the Buddhist temple near our house. I'm not sure why ghosts are popular here, but maybe it has something to do with Buddhism and reincarnation. I have no idea and don't know what I am talking about. However, I never knew how much credence the spirit world had here until this class. Kind of scary, isn't it?
Some loose ends:
-- I've mentioned that businesses, including pharmacies, close here from 11:30 a.m. to about 2:30 p.m. daily. There's a giant pharmacy that opened on Vo Thi Sau, where I walk every day. Of course it closes, and it doesn't carry anything I want, like vitamin E cream and cordyseps vitamins (which cut down on my dizzy spells). However, they have every skin whitener known to mankind and, of course, they sell sheep placenta.
-- On my way home from my walk, something bit the hell out of my neck in the park. This wasn't a garden-variety bug bite. This bite hurt like my motorbike rib injuries, and I threw the apples and strawberries I was carrying all over the place because of the pain and shock of the bite. Four days later, I still have redness and swelling on my neck. Maybe a ghost bit me. Or unicorn.
-- I found a tree-filled coffee shop on the Dong Nai River that was almost nice, but the prices were too high, the service was slow, and there were red ants everywhere. I'm still looking for the perfect coffee shop where there are no red ants, the staff understands Cafe Sua Nong and the other customers leave me alone. Lido comes the closest.
-- Joanna is doing great, standing a lot and complaining a good deal, like her dad. She has a big appetite, like her dad, and is always wonderful to be with, like her mom.
-- My haircut is still ugly.
-- Our neighbor across the street has a giant pile of wood in front of his house. It has something to do with his business.  At night, you'll see 10 to 15 rats scurrying in and out of the wood pile. Our next door neighbors have a 6-year-old boy who stays up until 11 p.m. playing, screaming, crying and kicking the walls. Phuong told the parents about the late noise waking Joanna up at night, and the parents responded: "Our son is so tired and grumpy in the morning, maybe because he stays up so late." If you saw a ghost, you'd believe in ghosts, too.

Joanna stands; anniversary; rudeness takes the cake

It was an eventful week for the teacher formerly known as the White Monkey (my wife and a daughter in the U.S. want that nickname retired).
First, my daughter Joanna stood on her own for a full three seconds the day before she turned eight months old. I happened to see her left hand floating in the air, so I checked to see what her right hand was holding on to -- the crib or the wall?  Neither. Both hands were floating in air, kind of like she was surfing. I was too shocked to think about a photo, and Phuong wasn't there. I've seen Joanna stand on her own -- intentionally -- twice since then, but I'm not thinking photo. I'm more concerned she doesn't crash to earth, but so far she sort of gracefully plops to her butt for a soft landing.
Joanna got another vaccination in her thigh last week and cried for two seconds and got over it. But she had a low-grade fever for a few days, and was pretty grumpy. Contributing to her grumpiness were two new bottom teeth that broke through. She now has eight teeth showing. Poor kid.
Phuong and I celebrated our one-year wedding anniversary on March 10. I bought her organic currants (ridiculously expensive), dried blueberries (even more expensive), scented fake flowers and some real flowers (silly expensive) and a gold chain and crucifix (almost cheaper than the other stuff). I also assembled a small family photo collage. We've packed a lot of life into the past year -- a couple of motorbike wrecks by the teacher formerly known as the White Monkey; a baby; teaching ups and downs; furnishing a new house; battling immigration issues in our bid to get Phuong to the U.S.; and I haven't had a cigarette since March 23, 2016. Through it all, I'm happy as hell but still just as bad-tempered as ever. Joanna has a little bit of a temper also, but overall, we're a very, very, very happy family. Damn it.
Speaking of damn it, I tried to buy a cake for our anniversary at a bakery called Hanh Phuc (I have a new name for it that sounds so similar it's almost vulgar). Some twit of a girl who was smaller than -- and not as smart as -- the cake I was buying, got in my face because I didn't give her the 444,000 dong ($20 USD) for the cake fast enough. I had something in my eye after I gave her 200,000, so I held my hand up and motioned for her to wait a second. I also pointed to my red, tearing eye. This mechanical moron didn't flinch and barked (there is no other word for it) "440 thousand"!!! in an unsavory tone. I stayed calm -- for me -- and, while tending to my burning right eye, I told the smiling simpleton that she was being rude. She laughed at me (or maybe it was just a big smile). So I simply snatched the money out her hands, said that it's easy to be rude, and left the bakery cake-less and rubbing my damn eye. Of course, I wasn't trying to short-change the bakery, I didn't even have the cake yet because they were getting it ready for me. Also, I shop there quite often, which means I spend a lot of money there because it isn't cheap. Make that, used to shop there and used to spend a lot of money there. But this sort of thing happens way too often here to the teacher formerly known as the White Monkey. Folks in Bien Hoa don't get the basic courtesies. I've lived here for more than four years and I've never heard the words "please" (lam on) or "excuse me" (toi xin loi).
But enough sour stuff. I forgot for a moment how happy I am.
 The class I stopped teaching got a young British teacher in my place, like I suggested in my last blog. I saw three girls from the class clapping and giggling with excitement when they saw the young Brit heading toward their room. Maybe they'll be on time now.

Baptism; faxing; family love; disrespect

Joanna was baptized on Sunday morning at Bien Hoa Church, which absolutely thrilled Phuong and her family. And my friend Joy was Joanna's godmother at the long service in the hot church. Joy and Joanna are quickly becoming fast friends, which I knew would happen. Joy's very personable and Joanna is the world's cutest and most likeable baby, in my very humble opinion. When the parents and babies were called to the front of the church for the baptism service, only women and babies went up. I was the only dad holding a baby. I felt good about that, until the heat got to me, and I waved Phuong to join me so she could hold Joanna and give me a break. We share everything. The priest was pleasant and Joanna never really cried during the service, although she complained a little because she's teething. Joanna has six teeth now -- four on top and two on bottom. Anyway, after the baptism our whole clan went to Lido for a wonderful breakfast/brunch of meat, soup, salad, ice cream, and coffee.
Joanna, being the baby that she is, smacked the keyboard on my new computer and Phuong had to work on it for a couple of hours to get it working again. Thank you, Phuong, who remains the most patient and understanding and beautiful woman in the world. And you can add persistent to her list of qualities. I needed three documents faxed to the United States, and Phuong used a second-hand fax machine over three days to get the documents to where I wanted in Cincinnati, Ohio. Those documents meant steady income for me, so they were extremely important. Phuong is so %$#@& wonderful, determined, and every other positive adjective you can think of. It's kind of funny, but I tried a few businesses and  banks to see if they could fax the three pages for me. Of course, they couldn't. At one hotel, the girl was almost helpful but couldn't fax after 5 p.m., when I wanted to send the documents. A girl at one local business told me that faxing is relatively new in Vietnam, and her company didn't have it. (Not true, but who cares?) The fax was invented in 1843, and fax machines were everywhere by 1970. Some companies don't use fax machines and instead scan documents and then send them over the internet. Since my documents ultimately involve money and monthly income, this process is not acceptable. No worries. Phuong dealt with it.
Hard to believe, but I've adapted somewhat to the heat here. It's helped that the weather is ever so slightly cooler here this February and March, so I sweat less -- three quarts instead of a gallon each day -- and I'm less grumpy because of the heat.
I begged off a class here, which I rarely, rarely, almost never do. But these students took disrespect to a new level, coming into class 15 to 20 minutes late because they were sitting around drinking coffee and tea and speaking in Vietnamese at the school's little concession area downstairs. In other words, they're in the building, but they choose not to come to class for whatever reason, and when they finally show up, they enter the room talking loudly with their buddies while I try to teach. I guess I'm invisible. The only time they're quiet is when they're texting on their cell phones, which is about 75-80 percent of the time they're in class. What's funny is that I really like these guys because they can be fun and very intelligent, but learning English with Teacher John doesn't seem to be a priority when they come to school. These guys are 17 to 22 years old, so they'll probably be happier with a younger teacher who has a British accent.  More games, teacher. Actually, I really like all my classes and students, and I'm coming out of my mini-teaching slump, which I seem to go through every four months or so. Having a new computer with my own cables and adapters (THANK YOU! Phuong) really helps.  And I was fighting some bouts of dizziness for a week or so -- the result of my first big motorcycle accident here more than three years ago. But that's under control now and all is well, especially my fantastic kids and teen classes.
Finally, I want to pay homage, respect (credit to Masta Ace) to Vietnamese ants. Amazing creatures. Fast, light, nimble, ubiquitous. Now, other than canned goods and sealed jars, any food we buy goes in the fridge or freezer, including unopened boxes of cereal and cookies, jars of honey, bread and all fruit. Homage, respect..
And one more thing: I love you Phuong, Joanna and my four children in the U.S. so much. Thanks for everything.