The price of capitalism; epic tennis; prayers and laughter

Capitalism is still a work in progress in Vietnam, or at least in Bien Hoa City. The economy is clearly on the rise here, and this is evident in the increasing number of cars on the road. The infrastructure isn't the greatest, but it's improving and there's tons of roadwork and construction everywhere. The country is clearly developing. However, simple concepts such as customer service remain elusive to the locals. Just like in Peru, businesses close anywhere from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. daily, and this includes pharmacies. Some people require more sleep than others require medicine, I guess. And I've been denied purchases of items on the shelves because there were no price tags on them. Twice in the past week this happened -- at a bookstore where I wanted to buy puzzles for Joanna and at a specialty food store where I tried to buy chocolate for Phuong. In both cases, the cashiers shouted at me in Vietnamese, as if raising their voices would make their language easier to understand for the White Monkey. Trust me, it doesn't do anything other than ratchet up the tension. And the cashiers grabbed the items out of my hands and returned them to the shelves, where they could confuse future customers. Both planned purchases involved quite a bit of money, but since I wasn't dealing with the owners or people with any tact or social graces, my dong stayed in my pants, so to speak. Sorry, Phuong and Joanna. I tried to get you guys something special. Maybe next time. This has happened about a dozen times since I've lived here, but there's no point in getting angry. They wouldn't understand and they really don't care since it isn't their business anyway.
Last Sunday, Phuong and I had our first tennis match since Joanna was born. And it was the struggle I expected. At 3-3, the never-ending monsoon rains came and delayed the match for 45 minutes. The wait messed up Phuong's game and I won 6-3, but I see trouble ahead. Phuong's serve and ground-strokes are much improved because of her work with Tai, and she still runs like a gazelle.  My game is also improved, but I run like a 62-year-old fish. And my right ankle has never really recovered from one of my motorbike wrecks, so I have my excuse ready and waiting when Phuong starts dominating, which I suspect will be real soon. Tai and I had two tough matches over the weekend -- I beat him 6-3 and lost 4-6. I told him I was the overall champion and better human being based on the 10-9 aggregate score in my favor from the two matches. Tai's a good sport ... he smiled.
Joanna actually lets Phuong and I play and she isn't too disruptive. She'll wander onto the court once in a while, but she scoots off when we plead with her. Joanna's cousin Hai tags along and plays with her. Joanna loves Hai, and starts laughing as soon as she sees him. She had a blast playing in the rain while wearing only her diaper during our rain delay.
Phuong and I are looking into traveling, possibly to South Korea. I need to get out of town and so does Phuong. The little peanut Joanna gets bored easily (like her dad) and loves new adventures, so we believe she should do OK on a trip. But with Phuong, there's always the challenge of getting a visa. Canada nixed her and the U.S., well, you know that story. We really do plan to return to Vietnam -- I can't go anywhere until social security kicks in when I'm 66. That's still more than three years away, but time flies when you're getting old.
I'm in the process of putting together all of my blogs and travel photos to make a book about teaching in the TEFL world. It gives me something to do when Joanna takes a nap.
When I say grace before meals and add a little prayer asking for God to bless Phuong, Joanna and Daddy, Joanna vehemently shakes her head "no" and laughs ... every time. It cracks Phuong and I up, and we can't help but join Joanna in laughter.  Amen to that.

A lottery winner again; drugs do their job; kid curses at the White Monkey; scanning the globe

Even though my life is ... uh ... challenging here, I seem to have a knack for hitting the lottery.  I nailed the numbers again this week. Small stuff, really, but to repeat a quote from my beautiful wife Phuong: "A win is a win."  I won 100,000 dong, about the fifth or sixth time I've done so. Not horrible for a 10,000 dong ticket.  So that's very roughly $5 U.S. for a 50-cent investment. Like I said, it's small stuff  but it beats losing. Plus, I hit for $150 on a 50-cent investment once, so I'm certainly not complaining. And I've been playing the lottery for only a couple of years, not for the nearly five years I've lived here. Getting your winnings, like everything else here for me, can be difficult. The sellers are supposed to pay, but some won't pay for whatever reason. A seller refused to pay me for the winning ticket. One of the hu tieu girls told me I have to buy -- or must buy -- more tickets in order to get paid. This pissed me off, of course, and I told her Americans don't "have to" or "must" do anything. I still don't have my temper (reactions) under control yet. I saw a guy I used to always buy tickets from, and he paid me the 100,000 no questions asked. I gave him a 50,000 tip.
The powerful drugs my wife and father-in-law purchased for me from the pharmacy knocked out whatever invaded my body. I'm well again after being in a drug-induced stupor for three days. Same with Phuong. In addition, Phuong has a complete set of teeth for the first time since she was 13 years old. A beautiful woman has become even more beautiful. But ironically, she's the second-best-looking female in our house. Joanna is No. 1, which is what one of our truly friendly neighbors calls her. Phuong accepts her runner-up status because Joanna's smile lights up a room.
Speaking of my temper,  I was doing tai chi in the park on Thanksgiving Day when two kids on bikes came a little too close to watch. One of the kids kept staring and smiling at me, trying his best to distract me.  I said nothing, threw my hands in the air and gave up on the tai chi. I walked over to Phuong and Joanna, and said I'll do my exercise at home. The kids on the bikes rode about 50 yards away, and one of them yelled F@%K YOU! in Vietnamese at me loud enough for a group of teens taking selfies, two middle-aged couples and my wife and daughter to clearly hear. My friend in the U.S. said I should have offered to teach the kids, who were about 12 or 13 years old, how to say F@%K YOU! in English for a small fee of, say, 100,000 dong. Phuong and I were both miffed, but those bold boys took off on their bikes as soon as they swore at the White Monkey, my Vietnamese wife, and my 16-month-old daughter Joanna. Some people don't like the moniker White Monkey, but that's what I am to so many people here. The White Monkey: No other name is more apropos.
Young people shouting F@%K is one of the reasons I don't work for language centers here anymore. When I complained about this behavior in the classroom, staffers always made excuses and defended the foul-mouthed young folk. Well, I say folk that.
Joanna continues to speak a little English and very little Vietnamese. According to internet research, you can't teach a baby two languages in a two-language household any more than you can teach them how to smile, or how to walk. It happens naturally, and Joanna (and all babies, for that matter) know when people are speaking one language or another. "Experts" say to just let the speaking and language thing happen naturally. Joanna seems well-adapted and we're happy with how she's doing. However, two neighborhood kids, a 28-month-old boy and 30-month-old girl, are a little too aggressive with Joanna. Two days ago, the boy shoved Joanna pretty good when she touched a toy elephant on the boy's tricycle (the boy wasn't on his trike at the time) and the girl refused to share any of her toys with Joanna, but she was more than willing to take toys away from Joanna. Kids will do that kind of stuff, so I'm not real concerned. Joanna is a big girl and she'll be able to handle herself  in a very short time.
We're researching countries with favorable immigration policies in case the U.S. ultimately rejects our pleas to let Phuong in the United States. Can't imagine that would happen, but you never know. Uruguay and Ecuador are the leading contenders at the moment. We have a few years to worry about this, but we'd like to know something by the time Joanna is 5 years old.

Losing my temper (again), loving my supportive family and believing in my country and drugs

I lost my temper with Joanna last week, and yelled at her pretty good. She cried a little and avoided me like the plague, which has made a comeback in Madagascar, by the way. Joanna was tearing the pages out of the books I got her in the U.S., and I nicely asked her to stop. She repeated the offense, but I stayed calm (like Phuong) and again asked her to stop rather nicely. The third time she did it, I lost my temper (unlike Phuong) and yelled at her, which is unforgivable with a 16-month-old girl. Phuong looked at me in horror.  Joanna froze for a second, looked at me in horror, and ran to  mommy's arms. Joanna didn't stop crying until I left the room. So I left the room, taking all the torn books with me to another room. I taped them back together and returned to Joanna. She was intrepid and smiled when I began reading the torn  -- and subsequently repaired -- books to her, especially "My Dad is Beautiful." So, our spat lasted seven minutes, and everything is wonderful again. I wanted to kill myself after I raised my voice, but Phuong said that Joanna needs a dad for a few more years and suggested I wait until she's a teenager. Will do. I realize how unsavory my temper can be -- and I'm sure my first four children will attest to this unpleasant fact. Apologies now mean nothing to my kids, even though I am sorry, but I'm trying to control my temper. For me, temper is  not a choice but a reaction. So, I'll accurately say that I am trying hard to control my reactions.
The credit goes to Phuong and all of her family, including Joanna, who seem to have a real understanding of me. They're sympathetic, but not judgmental, of my situation here (yes, here come the excuses). They know it's 94 degrees with miserable weather every day. They know I can't go anywhere here without difficulty of some sort: people waving their hands in my face; waitresses refusing to wait on me while being unwilling to try to understand my Vietnamese, and then staring, laughing and pointing at me with their co-workers; people riding their motorbikes at stupid speeds way too close to me; and kids and adults refusing to wait on me in bookstores and any other business catering to locals only. Sounds like I'm miserable, but honest to God I'm not. Phuong and Joanna keep me smiling. I've developed a small circle of businesses I can go to without inconveniences. I can walk at certain times of the day when people don't see, interact with, or hassle me.  The food is awesome (thank you, Phuong). The fruit stand ladies look after me and some of the coffee shops actually understand me when I say "coffee milk hot" / cafe sua nong.  Our trips to the park each day are wonderful -- the security guards there smile and chat with us, and the other parents always engage us in a pleasant way.  Our Sunday tennis with Tai is a source of joy -- Phuong and I are starting to talk smack with each other again, Phuong's ground strokes are tough, and my game has improved to the point where I can give Tai a tussle and, once in a while, win a match.
None of these good times here would be possible without Phuong and Joanna. I'd be somewhere else, otherwise, probably teaching in Peru, Poland, or Ecuador.  My family could end up in one of these places anyway if my country (the United States) doesn't wise up and let me move back home WITH my wife and daughter. Phuong and Joanna have so much to offer that any country unwilling to accept them would be making a big mistake. Right is might, and I'm sure my country will eventually do the right thing.
I'm still battling my sinus and lung infections, taking stronger drugs every day that make me extremely dopey and happy and depressed all at once.  Still beats the world of employment, where authority means you're always right and never have to say you're sorry.

A former co-worker and true friend dies; my wife is getting new teeth; Joanna is spitting image of my mom

Gail Latham, a true friend not only to me but to everyone who knew her or worked with her, died yesterday from the effects of cancer. I worked alongside Gail for seven years at the Dayton Daily News, and for seven years she was fun, cheerful, diligent and the best co-worker you could ever ask for. Gail covered my butt on so many occasions, catching countless -- and I mean countless -- mistakes that I would miss as a copy editor and proof reader.  I used to jokingly say to Gail: "You're keeping this rag afloat with all the mistakes you catch." But work was no joking matter to Gail. She was fun, but she never made light of the job she had to do. That's why she was so damn good at her profession, and why I had to eventually find another job. People like Gail come along once in a lifetime, and I'm so glad she came into my life, even if it was for only those seven short years. Gail would call me on this cliche, but she would also understand: Gail Latham, you will be truly missed by me and everyone who was lucky enough to know you. God bless.
My great friend John recently lost his sister to a rare disease. I didn't really know John's sister, but I knew she was tough, good-looking, a fighter, and very intelligent. It runs in their family. My condolences to John and his family for their loss, and to Gail's family and many friends.
It's difficult to write about anything else after Gail's death, but I know she would say: C'mon Millman, man up.
So let's focus on family.
First, Phuong is in the process of getting all of her teeth fixed. We took care of her two front teeth a couple of years ago -- she can eat corn on the cob like the rest of us hominids with front teeth. Now we're fixing two molars. It's a little painful for Queen Phuong, but she's so tough that you wouldn't know she's in pain. Phuong had four  permanent teeth pulled out because of cavities when she was a teenager. She was a victim of chocolate, childhood poverty and draconian dental care. Those days are gone for my wife and she'll have a complete set of chompers, caps and all, by next Wednesday. My wife already had one of the most beautiful smiles in the world. Now she'll have the best smile in the world ... after our daughter Joanna, of course.
And speaking of the peanut, Joanna reminds me so much of my mom it's almost scary ... if it wasn't so wonderful. Of course I see lots of family in Joanna's characteristics, but when she concentrates on something, or laughs, or smiles, she looks just like my mom. I think these handed-down traits give many of us solace and comfort as we grow older and approach the big sleep.  I know life is about choices, but those choices are so often made with the cards we are dealt. Sometimes we get dealt a bum hand, but I hope that's not the case with my children. I believe my kids' moms are such quality people that I'm confident my children will make the right choices regardless of the circumstances. Knowledge really is power.
Since I'm no longer employed, I'm helping some friends of Phuong with their English.  I was showing two kids, ages 10 and 13,  how to peel a navel orange. They were dumbfounded and asked why I didn't own a knife. I finished the process, showed them there's no waste at all, and that it's cleaner in the end to eat the little pieces. They agreed and learned something. I will not ridicule these kids because I had no idea how to eat durian, chom chom, bon bon, and dau rong or a bunch of other Vietnamese fruits and vegetables. Now I know thanks to the patience of local Vietnamese people, who love teaching a white monkey a thing or two. So knowledge really is power.

"Stink bug" rash; public peeing; the world's best little girl

The relentless rain has increased the insect population in Bien Hoa, most notably the number of "stink bugs" in the park.  I know these bugs have a wretched odor, but I didn't realize I was allergic to their spray. A big version of a stink bug, about the size of a Susan B. Anthony dollar, landed on my shoulder and let off its stink. A week later and I still have a sizeable red welt on my shoulder. I could show you a photo, but that means I'd have to take off my shirt for a photo. That won't happen. The big red welt is a little itchy, but otherwise no problem. Well, my shoulder had a funny smell for a while, but that dissipated.
While Phuong and I took Joanna to the park in a stroller this week at 4 in the afternoon, a punk on a motorbike with a rough-looking girl on the back came around the corner way too fast and cut us off. I joked to Phuong that the guy was a doctor who was rushing to the hospital to save lives. Actually, this shipdit pulled his bike over about 10 feet from us, took out his minuscule manhood and stood on the sidewalk pissing on the bushes in front of a Karaoke joint. Phuong, Joanna and I were privileged to have front row seats at no cost. There's an outhouse in the park, about 50 feet away. So I told him, "Hey, Hickdead, there's an outhouse over there." Phuong and Joanna pointed and laughed at him. He mumbled his backtalk, but anybody could see he didn't have the balls to actually confront us. People routinely piss in public here in the daytime, but it's usually only the lowlife. Unfortunately, I'm learning Bien Hoa is a mecca for lowlife. Some clown who just got out of prison after serving five years for assault moved back to our street (he used to live here five years ago). He got his hands on a junk car that he uses to "deliver beer," and races up and down our street. It's obvious that it won't be long before this butt bunny will be making his deliveries back in prison. I've suggested to Phuong that we move somewhere safer -- maybe Syria, Uzbekistan or Iraq -- but she wants to wait until the U.S. State Department responds to our lawyer's formal request for an explanation as to why Phuong received a lifetime ban from entering the United States after she has seemingly done nothing whatsoever wrong. We made our request in March and continue to wait for a response. I could almost handle living here, but as I've said before, I really, really, really don't want Joanna growing up here and going to school here.
Speaking of Joanna, she's speaking much more -- in English and Vietnamese! Her entire demeanor has changed lately -- I think it's because I banned her from watching TV and videos. She tries to talk constantly, interacts much more with family and nice people (and really, there are so many here), and she seems to have a sixth sense to avoid morons. She'll engage other children, but will back off and leave when they're too aggressive. She loves kicking a soccer ball, picking up sticks, and splashing puddles with her feet in the park. At home, she plays more with puzzles and such. I realize much of this behavior is due to her age -- she's 16 ... months -- but it's such a pleasant change from the fussy and demanding baby she was becoming a few weeks ago. The beautiful and lovely Phuong, and cute and clever Joanna keep me sane here.
Phuong and I are now playing ping-pong with the flu and sinus infections. We're both quite sick every other week. It's Phuong's turn this week. Joanna started this mess, but she's been fine. Phuong and I will happily stay sick if it means Joanna stays healthy. As a parent, I worry that Joanna might be too tall. I know people are small here, but she's average for a 2-year-old. But I was huge in eighth grade and sort of stopped growing taller at that point. I've been getting fatter ever since, but that's another issue. The people here can worry about that.
Joanna had another immunization shot -- a big, honkin' needle -- but she cried for only 3 seconds (I counted). Both nurses were shocked at how quickly she stopped crying. But, of course, every parent thinks their child is the best. The difference for us is ... our child really is the best.
Vietnam motorbike diaries: I came to a small T-intersection in the Mega Market parking lot preparing to turn right and park my bike. A  gentleman on his bike came down the T on my left and we reached the intersection at the same time. I politely (and correctly) yielded the right of way and the man smiled and gave me a thumbs-up. There was a fat girl on a bike behind me and she was pissed I was polite and raced around me as I turned right. It was a dangerous, stupid and unnecessary maneuver on her part in the small, crowded parking lot, but she got to her parking space two seconds faster than I got to mine, so the fat girl is the winner.
 

Fight on the street near our house includes knife; no rats are injured; Joanna eats like a queen before she turns 16

There was a raucous fight on our street about 75 yards away from our house. Any kind of accurate account is impossible to get here for a number of reasons, but primarily for me it's because of the language. What I do know is that one of the combatants went inside his house and got a big knife that's used to cut open coconuts. I guess he wanted to cut open his opponent's coconuts. No one called the police, of course, and after jawing, punching, and threatening with a knife, things settled down. Thank God none of the rats living under my neighbor's pile of rotting wood were injured.
I think I mentioned this in a previous blog: There was a dispute between a teacher, who's an Englishman, and a Vietnamese local, over the local parking his motorbike in front of the Englishman's front door. At least that's what I think the dispute was about. The Englishman complained, and the local went home and came back to the Englishman's house with a big knife, probably one used to cut open coconuts. He was ready to kill the Englishman over where he could park his motorbike. I think the Englishman wisely closed his door and eventually left Bien Hoa. Smart man. This country needs some serious knife control laws, or coconuts that are easier to open.
My non-video-and-TV-watching daughter Joanna turns 16 (months old) soon, and she's already learned to butter up her dad. Every morning she goes to a table near our bed and brings me my eyeglasses. Maybe she wants me to see that her diaper really needs to be changed, so of course I oblige and tell Phuong to change our daughter's diaper. Ha ha. I believe my wife will verify that I do my share of housework, and that includes cooking, cleaning, laundry, dishes, and Joanna care. But caring for Joanna isn't work. It's a joy because of the love and interactions we have. Actually, the only real disagreements Phuong and I have are about who gets to spend more time with Joanna. I'm lonely because my kids in the U.S. don't really contact me and many of the westerners I've met in Vietnam are creepy (except Joy). Fortunately for me, Joanna is starting to speak better English ... certainly better than many of the folk I've had to deal with here.
I really enjoy cooking these days because I really enjoy eating. I'll show Phuong some American dishes and she'll show me some Vietnamese cuisine. The only problem with cooking is that the downstairs of our house doesn't have air conditioning, so the kitchen gets to 30 degrees celcius or higher with all the burners on. There are no ovens in houses here -- at least I've never seen one -- or else the kitchens would get as hot as the teacher room and some of the classrooms at my former school. "I'm cold, teacher."  Phuong appreciates my culinary skills, limited as they are, and sometimes she'll secretly copy my style, making scrambled egg or sunny side up egg sandwiches with cheese and chunks of ham or bacon. I've been buying green and spicy curry soup lately and adding zucchini (a Pham-Millman family favorite) and chicken. I always have dessert, and share with Joanna. We'll enjoy khoai mon cakes or nut and seed cookies with sugar-free yogurt from Da Lat. Breakfast always consists of naval oranges and apples from the U.S. or New Zealand, which cost a small fortune, and peanut butter from Golden Farms, one of my favorite local companies. And there's always lots of milk. I like chocolate milk, which I freeze into choc-cicles and share with Joanna. We eat well, and go about 50-50 between "western" and Vietnamese food.  Joanna weighs 12 kilos and is 84 centimeters tall. That's 26 pounds and 33 inches -- about the "average" height and weight for a 24-month-old girl. There's nothing "average" about Joanna, and locals are stunned when we tell them she's only 16 months old. We're always asked what we feed her and why she's so big. I tell people to read my blog and Phuong always mentions milk. Joanna is obsessed with cheese, and we have to limit her intake or she struggles to poop.
A situation with my eyes will bring me back to the U.S. sooner than expected, and I am planning to go to Prince Edward Island alone for a couple of weeks in either July or August. The staff at Dalvay by the Sea has been gracious and accommodating, so I'll honeymoon alone by the sea, which is as creepy as the westerners in Vietnam.

Neighbor's rat repository; Joanna's last name not accepted

I call the family across the street the Rat Pack, among other things. A husband, wife, two kids, and at least two dozen rats live there. The husband runs some kind of produce delivery business, and he has a huge pile of pallets in front of his house and the vacant lot next door, which he doesn't own. (You can see the pile in the lead picture for this blog. It's under a beautiful blue, black and white tarp. It's higher now.) The pallets serve as a rat repository and recreation area. Old women, who I assume are in his family -- everybody is related here -- sit in chairs in front of the house as rats scurry about, coming within inches of their legs. The women think it's funny and laugh. It almost makes me laugh when the old women meticulously sweep around the pile of pallets. I'll complain in English about the pile of rotting wood and rampant rats, which does zero good. The husband doesn't speak, but he stares and glares. He hasn't said one word to me -- not even a grunt -- in the four years I've lived here. The neighbors don't say anything about the rat ranch to the schmucked-up dad. If they won't confront kids and adult losers racing their motorbikes and cars up and down our little street at 100KMH, why would they be concerned about an idiot who's created a breeding ground for rats and disease? As always, I'm told there's nothing that can be done to clean up the mess. Removing the wood would reduce the rat population by 90 percent on our street, but as I've been told here for nearly five years: You don't understand! And I've had people here and in the United States laugh at me or say I'm negative, or a complainer, or just a plain old a---hole for whining so much. OK, guilty as charged, but in my opinion the people who let others do crap like this are the real losers. We've complained to the family, who gave us an incredibly twisted. stupid and nonsensical answer about the vacant lot next to them and rats living underground. We'll keep complaining and riling up the neighbors. I tell my students that you can lead or follow and that both are fine, but lead firmly and judiciously, and follow wisely. By the way, almost all of the motorbike riders go past our house slowly since I began my rants at them. Some even smile when they see me. I'll get off my soapbox now ... the rats underneath want to go out and find some food.
The never-ending monsoon season is never ending this year, or so it seems. We're still getting rain almost daily, although I do detect smaller amounts of rain and a little shorter duration for the storms.
When it rains, the temperature comes down ever so slightly. This makes the locals "cold" and the air conditioner for my very last class at the language center I no longer work at was set at 28 celcius on Wednesday. That's a chilly 82.4 fahrenheit and doesn't include the 11 kids running around the room, making it a degree or two warmer. The AC was often set on 29 in the teachers' room, which is a crisp 84.2. "I'm cold, teacher." Shockingly, I'm sick again. but thankfully, Joanna and Phuong are doing well. Joanna doesn't like the heat super much, and she'll sweat pretty good for a little girl. But kids don't care too much as long as they can climb on chairs and tables, and stick metal forks into the electrical sockets. Joanna is mischievous as hell, turning off the fan while we're eating in the kitchen. She turns it off, laughs, and runs away. She's bright as hell, also. Or at least I like to think so. When I read to her, she'll recognize a flower or animal in the book and point to the animals and flowers in the posters on her bedroom wall. She knows what a rainbow is and she can explain the principles of the Pythagorean theorem. Well, she knows what a rainbow is.
We were told by a court bureaucrat here that Joanna cannot have dual citizenship (Vietnamese and U.S.) because her last name is Millman. We were told we would have to change her name to Pham (Phuong's last name) in order to begin the process for her to also get Vietnamese citizenship. Ain't gonna happen. She's an American citizen now, and she even has a U.S. social security card . That works for me, especially if I can take my wife and daughter to the U.S. with me.
I'm having some issues with my eyes and dizziness, but that's none of your damn business, so butt out.
My eyes and dizziness have not affected my tennis, however. I discarded the bulky glove I was wearing to prevent blisters, and the result is a deft touch at the net and more powerful and controlled ground strokes. Really, the result is I can place my shots a little better. I beat Tai 6-0 two weeks ago, but that was after he played for five hours in a tournament. As Phuong always says to me: A win is a win.
Tai really wanted to kick my ass the next time we played, but I battled and lost 4-6. Yes, Tai, a win is a win, but I'm clearly getting better -- finally.