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.
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