Yellow water means we tap out; coffee shop conflict

My wife poured water from our tap into a pan to cook green beans this week, and the water was yellow. I immediately poured some water from the tap into a clear glass to check, and it was as yellow as ... well, the sun. Occurrences like this are the reason we never drink water from the tap here. An hour later, the water was clear again, but my faith was shaken. I used to put tap water into my kettle and boil the water for coffee, but I've lost my nerve. You could say I've gone yellow. You pretty much have to use the water here for showers and brushing your teeth. I won't rinse out my mouth with tap water when I brush my teeth; I use Listerine, so my breath is pretty good. A lot of people here have breath like a goat because they eat the spicy soups for breakfast and don't seem to brush their teeth the rest of the day. And maybe because they drink the tap water. I really don't know.

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Joanna and I go swimming in our third-floor kid pool every day. We were taking long walks (she still likes the stroller) but dirty air and heat caused me to get a skin rash on my face and chest -- about the 12th rash I've had since I've been here. The walks are shorter now and pool time is longer. Joanna is a challenge in the pool, and elsewhere, because she's not a fan of clothing. Comfort takes priority and the heat is unsettling for her. She gripes, but she knows the bathing suit is mandatory or no swimming. I'm trying to teach her to use her imagination to find shapes and animals and objects "in the clouds" while we swim on our open-air balcony. Not sure she's got it yet, but she can spot a plane that's remarkably small and far away. It takes me two or three squints to see the same plane. I pray she keeps her incredible eyesight and doesn't become visually challenged like her dad. We'll also play with plastic ducks and an inflatable giraffe in the pool, blow bubbles, spell S-P-L-A-S-H and count to 100, finishing with a big jump and S-P-L-A-S-H.

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Joanna attracts a lot of attention because she looks different than other kids here, and strangers try to hug or cuddle her, or even give her a kiss. Most mean well, but Joanna doesn't like it, and neither do I. So we don't allow it. But some folks just sort of grab her -- it happened twice at a coffee shop this past Saturday. Also, a boy threw hard, plastic balls at her in the play area. As I carried her out of the shop, I said to Joanna something to the effect that "there are real losers here and you have to be careful." A young woman sitting at a nearby table was apparently listening and starts screaming at me, saying "NO NO NO!" And I mean screaming at me to the point where nearly everyone at this outdoor coffee shop was looking at me. I gave her a pass at first -- and even apologized -- because she probably thought I was insulting all Vietnamese. I wasn't -- I was insulting the guy who grabbed my daughter's arm and hips while she tried to pull away and pulled her close while holding a lit cigarette, and the guy who squatted down in front of her seeking a kiss, and the boy who threw the balls at her. But then I got a little irritated because I wasn't shouting my warning, I was talking to my daughter and not to some woman at a table, so I said to the woman, who was sitting Indian style in a short skirt, "Since you understand English so well, maybe you can understand I'm unhappy because two guys just tried to grab my daughter and she was upset. I don't like people grabbing my 3-year-old."  She scowled at me, put her head down and looked away. Whatever. The people here are like people everywhere. Most are wonderful, there are some "tough guys," as Donald Trump would say,  and there are creeps and losers (put the tough guys in this group). Same thing in the U.S., same in Peru. Same everywhere. Poverty can feed anger, but some of the most caring people I've ever met don't have any money and some of the most arrogant have money.  So my lame conclusion is that people are people. Unfortunately, there's just too many of them. NO NO NO!

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I won't say cured or all better, but my back has improved so much from my fitness regimen of chi and yoga, and most importantly, from acupuncture, that I sometimes I forget I have sciatica. That said, I think a possible source and aggravation of the problem is that I climb and descend our three flights of stairs about 10 times a day. Three flights up and down 10 times comes to 840 steps. Yep, it's 42 up and 42 down of unforgiving faux marble stairs. It helps explain my fatigue as well as the formerly serious back pain. It's not an issue for Joanna, however, who climbs like Sir Edmund Hillary. Ah, the sweet bird of youth.