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.

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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.

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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.

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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.