What's the difference?

Anyone from the West planning to visit or teach English in Vietnam really should be aware of the cultural differences. The thing is: The differences are ever-shifting. Workers (that's what employed people call themselves here) at some coffee shops or chicken stands view a tip as an insult. In fact, they won't accept extra money. But moments earlier, they reached into your wallet to make sure you paid the proper amount. If your tip is accepted, which it is sometimes, a handful of workers then expect a tip all the time from you and become indignant when you don't tip. And I'm a regular at these places.
Money is something of an obsession here, which is understandable in a country where there isn't a lot of money floating around. When I've met people, they've asked on quite a few occasions: ''How are you? Where do you live? How much is the rent? Where do you teach? How much do you make? I like your haircut; how much did you pay for it?" I guarantee you'll get these questions. But the people here are very nice, and incredibly helpful and generous. So I dance around the tough questions and change the subject. "Sure is hot today," I'll say. Weather is usually free. After a short game of dodge ball, they'll get the idea that I'm not talking money. These are wonderful, decent people.
Expect brutal honesty here. I'll bring my beloved students a treat, and they'll complain it's not chocolate, or that they wanted something salty, not sweet.  Usually I can wear them down and they'll take it, but some students stick to their principles and refuse my offer. I try to use this as a teaching moment, and tell the students that when someone offers them a treat, they should say thanks, take it, and then give it away or toss it if they don't like it. I don't know, maybe the students are right.
I'm doing my best to introduce "ladies first" -- something my mom drilled into me -- and I've actually had some success. I make sure girls get the first pick of crayons, and that they get to leave the classroom first. It wasn't easy because line-cutting is a way of life here. No one has ever really yielded to me, or given me the right of way, on the motorbike. It's dog eat dog (and people really do eat dog here).
At one time, I planned to leave Vietnam and quit my job at VMG. But that's not going to happen ... I hope. VMG has been very good to me and Vietnam kind of gets under your skin in a good way. And the students are absolutely awesome. Really. The kids learn lightning-fast, the teens are, well, cool teens, the university students are extraordinarily bright, and the adult students are very serious about improving their English. There's going to be cultural bumps along the way. After all, I'm a pasty-white, stubborn American. But I'm learning the culture here better. I hope the students are learning some English.
I'm returning to the U.S. for much of December and January to see family and friends. Then I'll return to Vietnam and VMG to hopefully resume teaching. Sounds like a plan.

Making headway

It's been a while since I've blogged. This is more from general laziness and being busy than anything else. I am just about completely recovered from my motorbike wreck other than a good-sized bump on the back of my head and an occasional headache. I go to a massage parlor twice a week and get a head massage. It's awesome. The girl spends close to an hour shampooing my head and rubbing my temples of doom, slapping my face, and twisting my neck. All for under $3 U.S. Since I want nothing but my head rubbed, the girls are very attentive and appreciative. It's the proverbial "win-win."
Classes have returned to normal, and I have wonderful, wonderful classes and students. One student named Jack tells me I'm boring, and I tell him that my son, who is also named Jack, also thinks I'm boring. So student Jack and I get along fine. I taught a couple of classes at a local high school. I can't believe how respectful and well-behaved the students were. Give 'em a few more classes with me and that'll fade. Actually, I don't think so. The students here seem to really respect teachers. I'm OK with that. I really respect the students, who work hard and enjoy themselves at the same time. Some of the older students try to do the cell-phone thing (which I don't allow in class). Welcome to the 21st century.
Language remains the big issue for me. I tried to buy shoelaces and the girl working in the store sent me to bra section. So I bought a bra. It's a little tight.
I got new glasses. That was a struggle as well. People here, when they want your attention, yell (and I mean yell) HEY YOU!!!. There's no "excuse me" or Vietnamese equivalent. It's HEY YOU -- take it or leave it. I see lots of younger people (and older people, for that matter), picking their noses. I don't really care, except when one of those people brings me my coffee. Also, the air here reminds me of Bakersfield air.
I haven't touched alcohol -- beer or anything -- since the accident. Doctors said it would be a bad idea to drink after a head injury like I had (and I only had 2 beers with dinner the night of the wreck). I still smoke cigarettes, but that'll stop one of these days. I'm back on the motorbike with an improved helmet. No brain.
I know I'm OK physically because I started sweating again like crazy. Right after the wreck I wasn't sweating, and I know that's not right. So I'm back to 2-3 showers a day, and hating the heat here. And this is rainy season. In Vietnam, locals say there are two seasons -- wet and dry. I say there are two as well -- hot wet and hot dry.
I miss the crisp autumn weather in the states, but most of all I miss my children -- Jessica, Caroline, Jack and Alec. I'll be looking to do some couch surfing this March.

If I only had a brain

Do you need a brain to write a blog? Right here is proof you don't. I had a thunderous motorcycle crash a couple of weeks ago, and fractured my skull in three places. Internal bleeding. Unconscious for some time. The whole package. A guy named Al pulled me off the street. Since then, several other people have claimed responsibility for my rescue, but Al is the real deal. I was out for a couple of days and went from Bien Hoa, to Ho Chi Minh, and finally to Bangkok, where they woke me up every couple of hours to make sure I went No. 1 and No. 2. There was no operation, most likely because they couldn't find a brain to be damaged. I was dizzy and had a headache and body ache for a few days, but I quickly returned to Bien Hoa and resumed teaching a mere 10 days or so after the crash. You do need a brain to teach, unfortunately, so that's been a little bit of struggle for me, but I'm happy to be back in the classroom. The students are awesome.
I want to first and foremost thank my ex-wife Lynda, who flew to Bangkok with my son Alec to be at my bedside and listen to my jibberish.  I whined about no cigarettes and coffee, and didn't get any, but Lynda and Alec stayed with me. The ex- in ex-wife Lynda stands for excellent. And Alec is the man, even if he made off with my camera. I recovered so quickly and so well because of their visit. I know it.
I want to thank VMG for rushing to my side as well. They've been great through the whole process and were more than happy to put me back to work. Thanks, ladies and gentlemen. And Mr. Tu slept alongside me to make sure I remained among the living. Here's to you, Mr. Tu, and your fantastic snoring. Sometimes it takes something disastrous, like a bike wreck and head injury, to make you realize how wonderful people can truly be. And how much you truly love your family.
And let me say another thing. Hospitals aren't good places. They do good things, but they're, well, not good places. They're full of sick and hurt people, for one thing, they wake you up a lot, for another, and the food really is wretched. I don't think I really ate for a week or so, which means I look like a normal person now. Co-worker Joy is trying to fatten me up with lasagna and duck and chicken and ham and cheese and other goodies. I think it's working.
Fatigue seems to be the only side-effect so far, but I'm always tired anyway. No brain, no problems (except in the classroom). Obviously, it hasn't affected the blog any.
Thanks to all of my other friends as well for their support. I'll pay you guys the money I owe you as soon as I get it. Later.

Happy days

My son Jack came to visit, and it was the best nine days I've had in Vietnam. We didn't do a whole lot -- ate seafood, drank a few beers, ate some more seafood, ate some beef, drank a few more beers. We checked out some of the local Bien Hoa markets and sang a little karaoke.We talked a lot. Like I said, it was a great visit. While visiting, Jack got accepted into NYU law school. It was kind of a last-minute thing because he was set to attend Georgetown. I was there when it all went down with New York University and I was pretty excited. Not as excited as Jack, of course, but when you're an old fart, you want the good things to happen to your children and you don't care so much about yourself. Given my lifestyle, I guess I've never really cared about myself.
I'm street legal now. I have a motorbike license and three accidents to my credit. The accidents were pretty minor, and they serve as a great reminder that there are plenty of morons on the road, including a big, dopey white guy. But only one of the mishaps was really my fault, and everyone just continued on their way anyway.
Jack and I found an interesting coffee shop where the service is extra special. The coffee isn't bad, either, so we did some time there. But we only sampled the coffee.
The line cutting drives me crazy. People do it in the stores, on their bikes, in wheelchairs. It doesn't matter how long you've been waiting. No one cares. The locals are worse with each other than they are with me -- almost. I was sitting on my bike today and a guy behind me rode over my foot while I waited for a parking space to clear. Then he took the parking space. It was all I could do not to clock him, but I realized this is just business as usual here. People just bang into you when you're walking in a market or store. Just like Peru. Now that I think about it, the line cutting was awful in Peru as well. I guess I really miss the line etiquette in the U.S.
The rain has been pretty relentless lately. Yesterday, there was a two-hour downpour followed by three hours of steady rain. It's raining now. The Vietnamese get really worked up about the rain. They scurry and ride their bikes like crazy so they don't get wet. It rains nearly every day, so you'd think they'd be used to it. Not so.
My skin problems continue, but like cutting in line, I think it's just a fact of life here for me because of the heat and my penchant for sweating. Bummer.
Classes are going very well, and I'm getting to know the students. The younger students, ages 6 to 12, are fantastic. And their English is better than most of the adults. We have a good time in class as well. The older students are wonderful too, so there are no complaints about the job part of life here.
Life is good, even with the line cutting.
I'm picking up a tiny bit of Vietnamese, and I just ignore the locals when they laugh at my pronunciation. Ha ha ha. Ban dep.

Code of the road

Riding a motorbike in Vietnam is quite the experience. Like going to the dentist. Or a proctologist. But after a few weeks of navigating the rocky and crowded roads of Bien Hoa, I realize there is a method to the madness. Here are some of the rules of the road:
-- Right or wrong, cars have right of way. And believe me, they take it. Be prepared.
-- You are responsible for what's in front of you. Riders stop for no apparent reason. They swerve unexpectedly to the left or right. They text while riding. If any of this happens in front of you, it's your responsibility. Be prepared.
-- The far right lane is a free-for-all. Bikes come from both directions. Bikes enter from side streets and they don't yield, care or look for oncoming traffic. Bikes come toward you in this lane as well. They're probably trying to cross the street, or they've just crossed the street from the other side. Be prepared.
-- Bikes will pass you on the left and right. Some chuckleheads will fly past you at high rates of speed and come within inches of you. I look quickly into my side mirrors quite a bit, but I don't linger because anything can happen in front of you. Be prepared.
-- If you stop at a light and leave seven inches between your bike and the bike in front of you, I guarantee some other biker will push his tire between you and the bike ahead of you so he or she can can move ahead of you. There's no real etiquette. Of course, it's the same thing at the market. There's no shame here in cutting in line. Be prepared.
-- Crossing the road takes raw courage. You edge into the oncoming traffic and hope the bikes swerve around you. You do this bit by bit until you've reached the other side. Be really, really prepared.
-- Driving a little faster than the rest of traffic is actually safer than taking your time and going with the flow. The idea is to create space.

I had a bad reaction to something I ate, and I've broken out in welts. Luckily, they're not on my face. I've  just about gotten rid of my face fungus. I'll adapt, eventually, but the process is excruciating.
My son Jack is coming in less than a week, and I'm really excited about that. I'll be able to talk English with someone. I've learned a teeny weeny bit of Vietnamese, but it's a slow process. Kind of like getting rid of my skin ailments.
I've lost power in my apartment a couple of times. Forget the lights; the real issue is no fans or air conditioning. The roaches sensed the power outage and invaded en masse. I swept seven dead roaches off the floor after a sleepless night of sweating, and then taught three classes.
Rain has been very heavy lately, but I don't mind. It's cooler, and I'm usually already wet from sweating.
Food is still amazing, students are still great and other than a few complaints, I don't really have any complaints. Huh? 

A non-verbal knucklehead learns

In the past week or so, I realized I was misreading some of the non-verbal cues from the fine folk of Bien Hoa. The easy one: The peace sign means hello; westerners wave their hand to say hi. Next, when the Vietnamese shake their hand quickly back and forth (with no arm movement), that means "no" or "we don't have what you want." I thought it meant "maybe" or "don't know." This misunderstanding caused me more than a little grief and confusion. Finally, when the middle-aged males gave me the stare, I thought it was alpha-male, machismo, smack-down time. Wrong again. When I got the stare a couple times this past week, I politely bowed my head and smiled, and they responded in kind. I wish I figured this out earlier. They just wanted to see how the visitor treats others. Got it.
I've developed a hideous rash on my face from a motorbike helmet chinstrap. I've got medicine, but the heat and my sweating keeps the rash thriving. It features blisters and swelling welts. Lovely. Welcome to the tropics. I'm growing a beard to cover it.
Also got a stomach thing. It's not as bad as the ones I got in Peru, but it's got my attention. Oddly, with a frightful face and grinding gut, I had a wonderful week of classes.  Students were great (and probably intimidated by my Frankenface) and the lessons went really well. Go figure.
My apartment is a little like Animal Planet, which I watch every night on the apartment's wonderful flat-screen TV. I've seen  a couple generations of geckos come and go. I watch them mature from little babies to full-fledged lizards. They play in my trash, run all over the walls, and hide behind the pictures on the walls and under the throw rugs. They keep the roaches and mosquitoes at bay. Nature is so beautiful.
Finally, I broke my vow and bought a motorbike Thursday. I got tired of walking everywhere and arriving a sweaty mess, and I needed some freedom of movement. My two favorite coffee/smoothie spots near my house are gone. One closed and moved. The other one burned down. Now I've got mobility to find a new coffee spot where I can sit and watch the motorbikes go by. The traffic is wild and comes at you from every direction, and you trade paint with the bikes alongside you. But if you take it slow and are really careful .... you'll probably still get smashed. Screw it.

Did you see that?

I'm still not used to being stared at everywhere I go. I don't mean simply an extended casual glance. I'm talking fixated starting, with nary a blink. Kids, adults, the elderly, plants and animals. I'm being watched. People watch me eat to see if I can handle chopsticks. They watch me drink coffee. They try to peek in my grocery bags to see what kind of food I'm buying at the Coop Mart. I remember the first time I saw Dave Chappelle in Yellow Springs. OK, I stared a little. But Chappelle is an honest-to-god celebrity who has tremendous talent. All I have is white skin and a 6-foot frame. I'm told by the few locals I know that people in Bien Hoa don't see many folk that look like me. They should count their blessings.
Most of the reaction I get from the onlookers is positive. There will be a smile or nod. A couple of times, however, the interaction has been uncomfortable. A guy came and sat next to me while I was having dinner and demanded I buy him a beer because "You're a rich American. You pay. You got money." I ignored him and he yelled, "Look at me. Look at me." I gave him a cigarette and he finally went away. Nothing good would come from a confrontation, although it was getting close to that point.  Another time, two creepy guys sat  on either side of me telling me how much they really liked me. "But we don't know each other," I said. Unfortunately, these encounters happened at what has become my former favorite restaurant. I found another place to eat, but even there four guys insisted I chug beers with them. Bottoms up. Man, I just wanted dinner. I didn't feel like performing, so I got my check and left. Overall, the people are wonderful here, but sometimes a little attention can go a very long way. Guess I've got to adjust somehow.
Classes are going well. I'm teaching kids and teenagers, and they're fun. They're rambunctious, but  when they start to bug me, I just remember what a chucklehead I was at their age. I teach at a factory sort-of place, Taekwon, and the class is awesome.So are the classes with the vocational teachers. Good people. When I have challenging classes, I just try to come up with better material for them. It keeps me on task. I don't hit a home run every time, but I have more time to lesson plan now because I'm limiting my public appearances.
I saw a couple of rough motorbike accidents last week. In one, a little girl was bounced off the bike and ended up sitting in the street. She got up and walked to the sidewalk, where she stood kind of shellshocked. The two drivers regrouped and picked up the broken parts of their bikes. No one spoke and traffic swerved around them. In the other accident, a motorbike hit a bicyclist. No one spoke and traffic swerved around them.
I've seen about six accidents since I've been here, and I'm surprised I haven't seen more -- people text-message while riding their bikes in absolutely crazy rush-hour traffic. Gutsy stuff. My plans to get a motorbike are still on hold, and will probably stay that way as long as I'm here.