Well-traveled book provides grim memories of Auschwitz

I finally finished the book "Auschwitz Nazi Death Camp" this past week. This book, which is more than 300 pages and also includes numerous pictures and documents, has been through a lot. I bought it at the Auschwitz-Birkenau Memorial and Museum bookstore for about $60, and I almost left it (and my Swiss Army knife) at the concentration camp during my tour. I did leave it near the luggage check-in counter at the Prague airport. A flight attendant brought me the book right before takeoff on my Prague-to-Qatar flight. In Vietnam, I left the book at a fruit stand when I was buying apples. I went home, realized my gaffe, and returned an hour later and the book was still there. The book (and I) also survived a motorbike crash when I was broadsided outside a coffee shop where I had been reading. I would go to coffee shops three or four times a week and read for about a half-hour every day. The book has many authors, many footnotes,and a ton of detailed information about the operation of the camp. It also has quite a few pictures, but not too many of a graphic nature. While detailing the horrors and almost certain death faced by the Jewish prisoners, the book also focuses quite a bit on Polish victims, and Poles who assisted the underground, which is understandable since the concentration camp is in Oswiecim, Poland, and Poles and Russians made up a significant portion of the concentration camp's early population. Clearly, this is a detailed and accurate account of what took place in Oswiecim from 1941 to 1945. It's fairly comprehensive as well. It brought back the emotional experience I had while touring the camp. I recommend it.

* * *

I'm sorry to report that I'm not the only foreigner to have issues on the motorbike here. I was told that two foreign teachers at the language center where I used to work had accidents recently. One guy didn't have a real serious accident, but the other guy broke his arm in four places and was scheduled to have surgery here. Like anywhere, health care can be hit or miss in Vietnam. It all depends on the doctor. I had an OK experience getting my gall bladder out in Ho Chi Minh City. But after I suffered a serious head injury in a motorbike accident in Bien Hoa, my son wisely had me shipped to Thailand for treatment. I wish the gentleman with the busted-up arm the best of luck and a speedy recovery.

* * *

My wife's mom loves to buy us fresh fruit and vegetables from the market and "vegetable man", who passes by our house every morning on his motorbike without a muffler. She'll put the stuff on our kitchen table and slip out the door, ninja style. I give her cash, ninja style, from time to time to help cover the cost. It's all good. Mom picks out great corn and carrots, and last week brought us some kumquats (trái tắc), They're very small, maybe a hair bigger than a marble or an olive, and they look like miniature oranges -- green on the outside with orange pulp inside. They're bitter, but not as sour as the yellow lemons I'm used to, and they have lots of seeds for how small they are. Adding kumquats to ice water is almost magical. It creates a refreshing, tasty and thirst-quenching drink. I'm not a real fan of Vietnamese food and cooking (Anthony Bourdain can kiss my pho and hot pot), but some of the fruits and vegetables I've had here are the best I've had anywhere.

* * *

Phuong and I are playing tennis three to four times a week now. I suggested that we try our old court again -- where the chuckleheads walked across the court -- and the new managers are quite nice and accommodating. The tin roof cover has been fixed so we played in the rain yesterday. Joanna behaves quite well while we play, and amuses herself with Phuong's Apple Notebook and exploration of the surrounding area. She's a lovely child.

Two years without a cigarette; one more key TEFL tip

I celebrated a significant anniversary in my life on March 23. That day marked two years since I last had a cigarette. I love being cigarette-free, and free is the optimum word. No longer do I ''have to" search for my brand of butts in a town that either doesn't understand what I want or tries to overcharge me for what I need. I don't "have to" have a cigarette with beer or coffee. In fact, I drink less beer and coffee, possibly because I don't smoke. No longer do I literally burn through my money to feed an unhealthy habit. And no longer do I "have to" go into those god-awful smoking rooms at the airports in Tokyo, Vietnam, Qatar, and other foreign countries that still have those god-awful smoking rooms. I don't hassle smokers about being smokers -- I'm not one of those ex-smokers. I really don't care. But I will ask smokers to move if they light up next to Phuong or Joanna. That can get you into a fight here, but so be it. The first year I quit I had to overcome urges to light up from time to time. Second-hand smoke smelled pretty good the first year that I stopped smoking, but it gradually got less attractive. Now, I'm not grossed out or anything, but I don't like it. I've also noticed a subtle improvement in my tai chi breathing, which is an integral part of the exercise. Maybe a downside is that I've put on a little weight, but I'm 63 and I never, ever really looked liked the  Marlboro man, who died of lung cancer. So, if you're still a smoker, that's cool. But I'm not jealous anymore, and that's cool, too. I'm kind of proud of that.

* * *

March 22 was five-year anniversary of my dad's death, but anniversaries like that aren't very significant to me. Whenever I remember, I'll say, "Oh yea, that's right. He/she died today (or this week or yesterday or whenever)."  Death anniversaries are more important in Vietnam, but I'm not interested. Once you're dead, I believe -- in the words of the late, great Harry Kalas- -- you could be, you might be, you're "Outta here!"
I try to remember people's lives from time to time, especially my mom's. Gertrude (Stachow) Millman taught me to always give and be generous. Her wise words didn't always resonate with me, but they seem to have taken on added significance lately.
That's probably because my third daughter, Joanna, reminds me so much of my mom: similar expressions, similar determination, and the same caring nature.

***

 My friend John S. gave me a knife sharpener when I visited him in Dayton, Ohio, about a year or so ago. It was one of those gifts I threw in my suitcase and pretty much ignored. I used it once in Vietnam, and it seemed OK, but lately it has become one of my favorite tools. I've sharpened every knife in my house -- and you have to be careful because it can make knives almost too sharp. I'm going to use that thing to sharpen my wit, but I'm not so sure it'll help my writing.

* * * 

I forgot one very important tip for TEFL job hunters. When you read an advertisement for a job from a language center that contains bad grammar, misspellings, strange, awkward or incorrect sentence structure, weird collocations, lots of promises but no salary minimum, BEWARE! BEWARE! BEWARE! You'll be working for someone who doesn't have a good command of the English language, but they'll tell you how to teach it.  And trying to get paid -- not to mention trying to get all of the other promised benefits -- could be very testy. Remember: Experience keeps a dear school ...

* * *

Phuong and I are playing tennis three times a week these days, and the matches are very competitive. Phuong rallied from a 1-3 deficit to beat me 6-4 on Thursday.  I haven't slept well since.

Joanna goes under the water, and kicks her way to the top

Joanna is only 20 months old, so she's years away from being able to swim. But there's no doubt that she loves the water.  When we get to the Pegasus pool, she starts smiling incessantly and she'll excitedly babble Vietnamese and English. She seems uncharacteristically at ease there, strolling along the edge of the pool near the deep end like it's no big deal. Of course, we're right on top of her making sure she's safe, but Joanna acts disinterested in our presence. Even her social demeanor changes somewhat. She is more relaxed and natural with strangers and other children at the pool. I guess she's found her niche.
This past Wednesday, Phuong went in the water with Joanna because of my motorbike wounds and ear issues (we've bought earplugs and a cap, and my crash cuts are healing, so I'll be back in the water next week). Phuong is so good (and accommodating) to Joanna, that the Peanut was even more comfortable in the water. I yelled "kick" and Joanna would kick ... and laugh. I yelled "use your arms" and Joanna would splash with her arms ... and laugh. Then Joanna would climb out of the pool and reach for mommy to go back in the water. Phuong suggested I gently toss Joanna into the water, so she would go under and come up and reach for mommy. I was a little nervous about the whole deal, but I tossed Joanna into the water. She went under, of course, and came up into mommy's arms. This routine continued, but the last time my Joanna toss was a little wide left. She went under all the way to the three- or four-foot bottom. I was quite nervous, but Phuong started saying in a playful manner, "Where's Joanna? Where's Joanna" like it's a game of hide and seek. Well, Joanna kicked her way to the top, and in typical Joanna fashion, acted like it was no big deal when she surfaced. She really loves the water.
Raising a child is such a joy, especially because I'm in a situation where I can be there almost all of the time. I know women's lives can be difficult, but in most cultures it's the women who raise the child and help that child grow, learn and develop. That's a reward like no other.
* I have some distressing news to report. Phuong has won two out of our last three tennis matches. On Tuesday, she whipped me 2-6. I want to use the motorbike accident as an excuse, but it really wasn't a factor. My eyes had some difficulties adjusting to our new court, but Phuong was on the same court, and adjusted quite well. In short, her ground strokes were deeper and more accurate than mine, her strategy was more ingenious than mine, and her serve, which I helped improve, was much ... well, much improved.
* Joanna says both Vietnamese and English words, but uses English almost exclusively around me. "It's me .... a bee ... eyes ...." and so on. She'll say things like "ga" for chicken  "ca" for fish and "troi oi" for "oh my God!" when she's around Phuong's family.
* It's been 95 to 98 degrees fahrenheit here for the past five or six days. Luckily, the humidity has been in the mid 80s -- ugh!. Still better than Poland because I see the sun here and I'm with my wife and daughter. I miss a lot of the people I met in Poland, though, and I miss a lot of the food. But I also really miss people in Peru and I especially miss my family and friends in the U.S.
* I welcomed a new private student on Saturday. He got lost trying to find our house. Seems simple enough to me: left on D12, right on N14. But this really baffles the taxi drivers here (they're easily baffled) and anyone else trying to find our house.
* I want to thank the people from Italy who have accounted for hundreds of hits on my blog lately. Not sure why readership has picked up there. Maybe it's because Fabio Fognini is my favorite tennis player. Maybe it has something to do with my short stint in Poland. No idea, really. I want to thank anyone who reads this blog. By the way, I printed more copies of my "book" so I can burden my friends with more junk. A second "book" is in the works. Don't say the White Monkey didn't warn you.

Tai chi minimizes impact of another nasty motorbike crash

I've been extremely dedicated to tai chi the past two years or so and I believe I'm finally reaping the benefits from my dedication and hour-long nightly training sessions.
My body is still, well, flabby and borderline disgusting. But my fitness, overall health and recuperative powers have significantly improved. Let's look at why I'm touting the benefits of tai chi.
This past Sunday I was broadsided on my motorbike by a speeding, most likely drunken bag of douche. The bag of douche was going about 60 kilometers an hour when he hit me and he didn't touch his brake before impact. He had to cross the center lane line to hit me, meaning he was in the wrong lane. The impact knocked my helmet off my head, knocked my cell phone out of my pocket and down the road about 25 yards, and scattered me and my groceries all over the road among the broken glass and plastic from the bikes. "Witnesses" scrambled to get my scattered stuff, and me, to the side of the road while the bag of douche took off. I was too stunned to get his photograph with my recovered cell phone, but I probably didn't have enough time anyway. He was in a hurry -- no doubt he's a doctor who was rushing to perform surgery on children who will die without his help (that's sarcasm, folks). One witness in a nearby coffee shop said in lousy English that maybe I was going too slow, although the same witness said the bag of douche was going very fast. Sometimes, you have to draw your own conclusions.
The photos on the right show some of the effects of the accident on the flabby White Monkey. My hip was a little sore at first, and so was my left shoulder. But that brings me back to tai chi.
Three hours and three Ibuprofen later, I was on the tennis court, battling my way to a dramatic, hard-fought 7-6 (11-9) victory over my beautiful and ultra-competitive wife. I did my usual hour of tai chi after the tennis. I feel fine today -- maybe a little sore -- but fine with absolutely no serious issues. I taught my private student as usual Monday morning and my life has resumed its usual yin and yang flow. Maybe some luck was involved -- good and bad -- but I know that doing tai chi every day gives a 63-year-old White Monkey many physical and mental benefits.  I've been doing tai chi for 46 years, but I've gotten really serious and focused the past two years -- after two motorbike accidents damaged my ankle, ribs and kidney, prompting me to quit cigarettes and reduce my intake of alcohol. Clean living and tai chi (and Phuong and Joanna) have led to a healthier, happier and more resilient White Monkey. I'll praise my wife yet again because she has set up space for my tai chi, keeping the third floor balcony where I work out clean and adorned with plants, trees and flowers. She pushes me to practice, and never criticizes or makes fun of this martial art. Yes, it's a fighting art, but I couldn't whip a wet noodle. I could certainly eat one, however, judging from my girth. I tell Phuong that my stomach isn't fat, but that the accumulation of chi in my dantian gives the illusion of a fat stomach.  She knows the truth and tells her friends that I'm eight months pregnant.

Happy 2-year wedding anniversary to my incredible wife

I'm celebrating the happiest years of my life today. March 10 is the two-year anniversary of my marriage to Pham Thi Ngoc Phuong. We've been a couple for 42 months and we've lived together for more than three years. We went through heck and high water and bureaucracy to get married. The entire time has been incredible, even when language difficulties and my churlish behavior have caused frustrations. I won't speak for Phuong, the love of my life, but the frustrations and disagreements we have are few and far between, and our relationship always gets stronger once the disagreements are settled with frank and open discussion. Our relationship is forged by the love we share for our daughter Joanna, who can exhibit the volatile nature of her dad and the calm demeanor of her mother in the span of minutes. She is our pride and joy. She's also an endless ball of energy who keeps me and Phuong young at heart, and always tired. I'm blessed. Happy anniversary Dear, I love you and Joanna with all my heart, soul and chi.
I'm extra blessed today because some ass-clown rear-ended my motorbike while I was stopped at a red light, and the ass-clown was carrying three gallons of gasoline in a plastic container on his lap. The ass-clown laughed, of course, and tried to drive away. I grabbed his handlebar so he had to stop, then I made a big deal out of checking my bike for damage in the street, making the other riders go around us. My license plate was bent and scratched, but no other damage to report.
Some sad news from the White Monkey's perspective. Phuong notched her first tennis victory over me since the birth of Joanna. She beat me 6-4 -- fair and square -- last Sunday. I knew I shouldn't have helped her improve her serve. Phuong's gloating has been borderline unbearable. I knew it was just a matter of time. Her ground strokes are solid and deep and her ability to run is amazing. The only thing that was missing was the serve, and thanks to the sage advice of the White Monkey, her service game has vastly improved.
My private English student Sam, like Phuong, has improved dramatically the past week. She's starting to "think" in English -- a phrase I'm stealing from my first and best TEFL boss, Chris Larsen -- rather than spending and wasting time translating everything that's said and what she wants to say back. Her pronunciation of final 's' and '-ed' endings is becoming intuitive. Sam is a joy to teach because she cares -- and she's funny, too.
Joanna turned 20 months old on March 9 (my dad's birthday -- he would have been 103, and he nearly made it. He died at age 98.) Joanna is saying lots of words in English and Vietnamese. My hope is that she's bilingual when (AND IF) we move the United States. That move will depend on the U.S. government. Of course, my main wish for Joanna is that she's healthy and happy going forward.
I had some real issues with dizziness this past week, and I was in bed for a couple of days because I couldn't stand up without blacking out or falling down. But my friend Tommy E., who doesn't read this blog because he's "too busy," suggested a technique to address my problem. Son of a gun ... Tommy's suggestion, along with some wonderful drugs from Trump pharmaceuticals (inside joke for Tommy), worked wonders and now I can stand up without falling down.  I face Phuong in tennis today and tomorrow, so we'll see just how well his suggestion worked. I theorize my problem was caused by water that was trapped in my ear after swimming with Joanna. (I'll try plugs and a cap next time.) The water still seems to be there, but the dizziness has faded. Happy times.

Tips for TEFL teachers looking to go abroad

My hero Ben Franklin used to say: "Experience keeps a dear school, but fools will learn in no other." In this sense, I'm a fool. And really, most of us are fools. We refuse to listen to others and refuse to learn from their mistakes. We learn only when we experience something and live through it, especially difficult times. Concepts like advice, tips and suggestions are meaningless. We know it all and we don't want anyone's advice. Nonetheless, I'm going to give you some advice, tips and suggestions if you're looking for a TEFL job in another country. I especially want to share this with my friend Taiwanda Bason, who is providing a wonderful service for TEFL teachers around the world. Check out her website at taiwandabason.com
 My other hero, Biggie Smalls, had the Ten Crack Commandments. In honor of Biggie and Ben, I'll provide the Five TEFL Fundamentals:
No. 1: If it sounds too good to be true, it is. After talking with the CEO, director, owner or whoever is doing the hiring, make contact with foreign teachers at the school or language center you're considering working at -- through email or Skype -- and ask pointed questions about curriculum, morale, hours, pay, class size, visas, and work contract. What's the cost of living like? How about accommodations? Is the area safe? This may sound like a pain in the butt, but it's nothing when compared to being overseas and stuck in some god-forsaken language center following a pathetic curriculum and hating your job.
No. 2: No contract, no deal. Of course, make sure you see a contract before you do anything. Read the damn thing a bunch of times and look for sneaky stuff about fees for work permits, giving notice to resign and visas. And don't sign anything until you are 100 percent comfortable -- that's 100 percent comfortable --- with what you have read. And if you don't like what you see, have it changed or find another school or center that will change it. If it's not in English, request a copy that's in English.
No. 3: Don't blindly believe what the owner says. Get everything YOU want in writing from the boss, either in the contract or separately. Look back at No. 1 and check to see if what the owner is saying is true. "You won't work split shifts."  "You RARELY work weekends."  So much of what these folks tell prospective, naive teachers is shullbit, and they'll butter you up while saying it. Many language centers figure that once you come to a foreign country, you'll work there even if everything isn't quite like you thought it would be.
No. 4: Have your escape plan in place. Don't get stuck in a bad situation. Hey, all of us have made bad judgments, so learn from your past mistakes, FOOL, and be ready to bail out if you are miserable. A lot of language centers care only about profits, not teachers or students. You don't owe these clowns anything if you're mistreated or tricked. Sometimes, we get hoodwinked by sweet talk, but that doesn't mean we have to endure a lousy situation. Be ready to leave at a moment's notice. Have a taxi service on speed dial and an airline ticket waiting. I did this because my dad was not well, and I had to hurry home from Vietnam. And the language center was very understanding.
No. 5. If you go abroad to teach, then teach. Don't go to party, chase boys or girls, or work three months and move on to the next exotic destination. When you teach, go to class prepared. Never go hung over. Get drunk and hung over on your own time. The students will know if you're hung over and you'll be a clown, not a teacher. Take the job seriously and the students, staff and other teachers will respect you. When you have respect, you enjoy living abroad so much more. In Peru, I visited Machu Picchu twice, Colca Canyon and countless local markets. From Vietnam, I've been to  Thailand, Hong Kong, Tokyo and South Korea. I went to Poland to teach and that didn't work out, but I was able to see Auschwitz and Prague. In Peru, Vietnam and Poland, I prepared for every class and enjoyed good relationships with my students (I do the same now for private students). And in the end, that's what it's really about. The students will show you the way in another country: the good restaurants and local food, where to get the best bargains, the places you must see and the places to avoid. I think the centers in Peru and Vietnam appreciated my efforts even if they found the White Monkey a little demanding and testy. But in almost every case, when you do what's good for the students, you'll have a wonderful experience abroad.

Joanna is a water baby; visa battle gets started again

One of the tallest buildings in Bien Hoa, Pegasus, has a cinema, apartments, bar, and swimming pool. On Thursday, we took Joanna to the pool, which is on the seventh floor. She had a blast. The baby pool is pretty deep for a baby pool -- one meter deep all the way around. Joanna started slow, as she always does, dipping her toes into the water, and then putting her hands in. When she saw other kids jumping in, she was ready to do the same, consequences be damned. But the White Monkey jumped into the chilly water and held Joanna, who clung to me at first, then squealed in delight when we went into the water. She was ready to be on her own within minutes, which wouldn't have been a good idea.  Joanna loved trying to "swim" to the edge, climbing out of the pool and then going back into dad's arms and into the water. This went on for about 40 minutes. Two little girls gravitated toward the White Monkey and Joanna, and pool time was very enjoyable. There's an influx of people entering the pool area around 5 p.m., and this crowd is a little sketchier. Not bad, just sketchier. I was whipped anyway, so we bailed with plans to make this a twice-a-week outing.  The other three afternoons we take Joanna to Wells Farm, which is close to our house. Wells Farms has some swinging tires, teeter-totters, a pile of sand, fish, and other things for kids. Joanna loves this place as well. So despite the aggressive nature of the other children here, we've gotten in a good groove with Joanna.
The aggressive nature of the children here was all too evident this past week when Joanna, who's almost 20 months old, pointed at -- and tried to touch -- a flower on a neighbor girl's T-shirt. The girl, who's about 30 months old, swung the back of her hand -- from her hip -- with full force at Joanna's face. The back of the girl's hand whizzed by Joanna's face, missing by inches. If it hit, it would have been nasty and surely drawn blood. The girl's family didn't say squat. Phuong barked some Vietnamese at the grandmom in charge of the girl, but the grandmom sat stonefaced, as she always does, and said nothing, as she always does. We learned our lesson, again. This is the same family, or families, who live on top of one another in the house next door and who used a jackhammer on our shared wall at 6 a.m. to replace tile. Classy folk. But when you firmly draw a line in the sand here, or anywhere else for that matter, most people usually get it. Even the classless ones. Remember Poland? The White Monkey doesn't pick fights, but he'll beat his chest and his buttocks will turn bright red if someone crosses that line and threatens him or his family.
 I got an "invitation" for a job interview in Prague to teach at a business school. The job sounds good and the woman in charge of the hiring was refreshingly honest about the procedure to work in the Czech Republic. It could cost me some money and time to get the necessary permits. I liked the tone and honesty of the response I got, but Phuong and I believe that Joanna has responded very well to her dad's return from Poland, and the positive changes in her behavior would be best served by staying in Vietnam for the time being.
We haven't made any progress on getting Phuong to the United States. Our FOI request to the State Department for details about Phuong's rejections was brushed aside, from what I can determine from their cryptic letter. So now I'm spending lots of money to apply for a spousal visa with my lawyer's help, and then get rejected to find out why Phuong keeps getting rejected. I can't wait to find out the reason for her rejection and lifetime ban on coming to the U.S. Our case could ultimately end up in appeals court. I'm in it for the long haul; it's not like I'm going anywhere. Bring it on.