My sister-in-law, who has said about six words to me in three years, gave Phuong and I some kimchi that she made. Kimchi is a popular Korean dish made from salted and fermented vegetables, such as cabbage, ginger, onions, radishes, and hot red peppers. Or something like that. It's very popular in Korea, but has been catching on in Vietnam as well in the past year or so. Like red lipstick.. Anyway, the first batch she gave us was heavy on ginger and light on red pepper. "Real" kimchi is usually very spicy. I mentioned to Phuong that additional red peppers would make the kimchi more authentic and it would probably taste better. My silent sister-in-law came back with the second batch and it's amazingly good. Actually, it's better than any kimchi I've had at the Korean restaurants here or have purchased in the markets. It's hot as hell but it also has a wonderful flavor. I can't stop eating it, even though it can be a little rough on the system. Let's just say it has remarkable cleansing powers. I went over to my in-laws' house, where my sister-in-law lives with her husband (Phuong's brother), their two children, and Phuong's mom and dad, and thanked her and told her the kimchi was excellent. She stared at me and didn't say anything. That's fine as long as she keeps making the kimchi. And she's very good with our daughter, Joanna.
A couple of neighbors on our street have been very kind to Joanna and our family. The family next door with the rowdy son brought two toys for Joanna and the boy made sure he was the one who gave Joanna the presents. A family across the street brought us a Chinese lantern sort of thing, which lights up and "sings" a song when you push the "on" switch. Moon festival stuff. Very kind. And the lantern family gave us a chunk of cake, which was loaded with whipped cream and chocolate. I liked it.
Our nearly 15-month-old daughter is learning to play mom and dad against each other, crying and gaining sympathy when one or the other parent disciplines her for doing something dangerous and life-threatening. And man, is she stubborn. Reminds me of my children in the U.S. And me, as well. When she digs in, she won't budge. I admire her moxie, but it makes parenting tough, especially when you're my age. But not smoking or drinking has certainly helped my patience and fitness, and Joanna seems appreciative. She wants me to hold her and cuddle quite a bit. She's challenging, sometimes moody, often stubborn, but she's always a source of joy and love in our family and house.
I saw two motorbike accidents last week. The first one I saw involved an older lady and a couple of guys who looked like construction workers -- no shirts or helmets, and wearing only flip-flops and grungy shorts. They took a left turn too wide in front of Thuy Nha coffee shop and knocked the woman off her bike. They stopped, helped her up, and in the end she was smiling. The other accident involved yours truly, the NWM (New White Monkey). I was stopped in front of Lido waiting for the traffic to clear out so I could cross the street. Two girls -- about 12 and 8 years old -- were on a bicycle waiting to cross as well. A woman riding past gave me the awkward eye and when she didn't stop staring at me, she ran into the two girls on the bike. The lady gave a startled "Oh Oh" and took off. The girls were shook up, so I escorted them across the busy intersection, daring the yahoos coming toward us to hit me. Everyone was cool, so the girls and I crossed safely together.
Two days earlier, two women on a bike dropped a heavy box they were carrying in the middle of a busy street. I didn't see the drop, but I saw the box and glanced and saw the women on the side of the road up ahead. I stopped in the middle of the road in front of the box, got off my bike, picked up the box and carried it to the women. They didn't really thank me, but kind of nodded, and riders on bikes that had to swerve around my bike honked their horns at me and gave me the NWM stare, not understanding what was taking place. All three incidents had relatively happy endings, which I hope results in good motorbike karma for me. God knows I need it, and I want the same for Phuong and Joanna, who face injury or worse everyday because some clowns go 80 to 100 kilometers an hour up and down our tiny street. Our neighbors don't say anything. They're scared because they "don't want trouble" with the crazy, wild motorbike drivers. And people who live here think I'm the clown so they laugh at me for yelling at these folk to slow down. I don't get it.
I'm not going to Lido for a while since two teens working there had no
idea what I was trying to tell them when I wanted to pay my bill. I held
up my money, and the kid kept pointing at my coffee. I said no, tried
to say the money was for the coffee, but the kid still didn't get it. He grabbed the money and tried to put it in his pocket. I grabbed the money back and he walked away from me and said "I don't understand" in a snarky tone. I got up and went to the counter, paid my bill, then left and
watched two girls on a bicycle get hit by some genius who couldn't take her eyes off of me. Some days are better than others for the NWM.
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