Loneliness, a cultural mistake, and love

On Thursday, my son Alec and I chatted for over 45 minutes on Skype, and it was so refreshing and invigorating to talk about stuff I'm familiar with -- American football and Geno Smith getting his jaw broken in a locker room encounter; the pathetic Phillies; the Dodgers; and Ohio State academics. Alec will graduate from Ohio State this December, and I'm so, so, so proud of how he persevered and worked numerous jobs as he went to school. I can't wait to see Alec this December when I return to the U.S. In fact, I can't wait to see all of my family and friends. (Happy birthday Jessica, my awesome daughter. Hey Caroline, hey Jack, my other two awesome children.) Phuong's parents live close by, so it's not an issue for her. She talks with family every day. And really, she can talk with all the other folk in town because she's very outgoing, and of course, she speaks their language. My Vietnamese is somewhere below grunt level, so really I have no one to talk to other than Phuong and my friend teacher Joy. That can get rough sometimes because once every three months or so, I might have something intelligent to say. Well, maybe not, but it is a bit lonesome not to rap about the crap I'm used to rapping about with friends and family. I talked to my friend Ron as well on Skype, and I'm reminded of what a good friend and listener he is. He listens to my crap and takes care of my angry, shedding, hairball puking, vicious, flea-ridden cat. I'm going to put RW -- Ron's initials -- on my tombstone, if I don't end up in the Dong Nai River. Really, it's the least I can do.
Our house is still for sale, I guess, because lots of creepy people show up unannounced and look in our front door while we're watching TV or having dinner or whatever. The White Monkey feels like he's in a zoo. The owner showed up one morning with potential buyers just as we came home from tennis. She wanted to take the potential buyers though the house. This was the second time she's pulled this stunt. Phuong is very patient and understanding, and asked if it was OK for the crowd to go though our house. The White Monkey went ballistic. I started shrieking, beat my chest, and was prepared to expose my buttocks, which were bright red at this point. I explained to Phuong in agitated English that I don't want visitors showing up unannounced and looking in our closets and even worse, in our bathroom. I was extra pissed off because Phuong beat me in tennis that day. The owner saw my aggressive display and immediately left. The customers understood and said good-bye. We're moving next month.
Speaking of aggressive displays, I inadvertently made a big scene at tennis this week. Like I've said, most of the guys get it now -- they avoid the White Monkey and Phuong while we're playing. But a new guy -- shirtless and tattooed (not that there's anything wrong with tattoos -- two of my kids have them) -- walked across our court twice during our match and then sat courtside and shouted with a buddy on the other side of the court while we were playing. When he stood on a boundary line for our court while we were finishing a match, I tried to defuse things. I got down on my knees and pleadingly said "lam on, lam on," which I thought meant please. Everyone acted shocked, including Phuong. I was later told that what I did amounts to a declaration of war with him and his family and friends ... or something like that. I still don't entirely understand the ramifications of what I did, other than the fact that I think I would have been better off pissing on his uncle's grave. He chilled out and all seemed well to me. I guess the White Monkey is very well known on the local tennis circuit.
I'll quickly mention one traffic incident I was involved in ... I'm riding my bike in the usually blocked turn lane, heading toward a green light, when a guy carrying a kid steps right in front of me. Of course I hit him and the kid, but neither hit the ground. He was crossing and came out from behind a truck into my path. But no one believes the White Monkey. Fortunately, he kind of chuckled and went on his oblivious way.
Our favorite supermarket in Bien Hoa, Metro, seems to be sliding a little. They stopped carrying Tabasco sauce and the air conditioner wasn't on today, which made for some really hot shopping.
Phuong and I will be celebrating the one-year anniversary of our engagement next month. The best year of my life, even with the tennis shenanigans and traffic. Phuong is the most amazing and understanding woman in the world. She has to be -- she accepts the White Monkey, even though she doesn't care for that moniker. I love you Phuong. Happy anniversary!

New punks, no power, a happy ending

Here's some positive news. After seven months, the guys who play tennis next to Phuong and I -- or take the court right after us when our time is up --  have learned not to shout and scream while I'm in the middle of my service toss. And they no longer cut across our court while we're in the middle of a 15-shot rally on match point. Let the good times roll. But here's some negative news. Rain forced us to change times last week and we played at the same time a bunch of yokels showed up to play soccer on the field next to our court. Soccer is no problem for me, but these knucklebrains kicked the ball against the fence to our court while we played. Then they started taunting Phuong while she was serving: "Hey lady, teach me to serve. Show me how to play, lady." Shocking, but I don't think they really wanted a tennis lesson. And when I was about to serve, they shouted: "Hello, how are you?" Shocking, but I don't think they were really concerned about my well-being. One shirtless guy -- they were all pretty young, about 19 to 26 -- tried to give me the bad-ass stare as I walked to retrieve a ball. That was it for me, so I asked him in English he would never understand, "What's wrong?" and motioned to him to come into the court and tell me. He understood, I think, and dropped the stare and walked to his friends. I really don't want to fight 22 young, shirtless bozos, but I was starting to feel cornered. Besides, I'm sure I'd get my 60-year-old ass kicked. All I want to do is get a little exercise and enjoy time with Phuong, but some folks feel compelled to give me crap. The joys of being the White Monkey. Next time we play when the soccer guys are there, I'm going to hire six security guys -- really -- to stand shirtless, tattooed, and wearing mirror sunglasses at the fence so there's no problems. I guess you take the negative with the positive. Besides, most of the folk here are wonderful.
Time is moving pretty fast here. I've been in Vietnam the better part of two-and-a-half years. Phuong and I have been together for almost a year, and we get happier every day. Corny? Yes. True? Absolutely. Phuong has the patience to deal with the White Monkey's shrieking, and she has an incredible sense of humor. Her cooking is the best, and without a doubt, she's incredibly beautiful. So that's all positive, positive, positive. Maybe she'll teach me how to serve one day.
We had no power one day this week. It went off while we were at tennis, so when we came home, we couldn't get in the house. We have a sliding electric front door, but with no electric, there was no sliding. We sat outside hoping the power would return, and believe it or not, it was really hot. Adding to the fun, the key to our pad-locked back door was locked inside the house. I won't tell everyone that I told Phuong a while back to give the key to her mom, who's also our neighbor, in case we lost power one day. Eventually, Phuong's super-handy brother crow-barred the sliding door open enough for Phuong to slide inside, get the key, and unlock the back door. The power came back at 4 p.m. (it went off at 8 a.m.) and all was well.
Don't you love happy endings? Positive news.

A boyfriend, animal thieves, bikes, no visa

We do our shopping at Metro,  a really big supermarket owned by some Taiwanese company. Metro is like Walmart meets Costco meets Target and so on. They sell some decent foreign food, and bulk buying is encouraged. The prices are just a little higher than the markets and such, but it's big and you don't get banged into as much when you shop. Anyway, one of the employees there, a woman, chats a little with me and Phuong. The woman had a request a couple of weeks ago: She wanted me to introduce her to one of my foreign friends at my language center. She was blunt and said she wanted a foreign man in her life, adding: "He doesn't have to be handsome or good-looking. He can look like you." I assured her that all of the foreigners in Vietnam are better-looking than the White Monkey, but, unfortunately, I had to tell her that none are my friends. That's true. She didn't care if I had friends or not, she wanted a foreign man. I was unable to be of any assistance. I tried to tell her she was on her own.
Animal thieves invaded our neighborhood a while back. Someone stole Phuong's father's dog. Phuong suggested the dog probably became someone's dinner, It was a pretty-good-sized dog, so it likely fed a large family. A small bird was stolen from Phuong's family's store -- cage and all. The bird might make a nice appetizer before a delicious dog dinner. Dog is served in some restaurants here, but I haven't got the stomach for it.
 Our landlady is apparently trying to sell the house we're renting, but I hear the paperwork isn't pristine. I'm not sure if we're moving or not but we've been poking around just in case. Of course, nothing is simple. Folks tell us that they may not really want to rent, regardless of the For Rent sign, or that their cousin's brother's uncle's sister may want to live there. Or buy the place. So maybe it's not for rent, after all. We'll see what happens.
The more I ride the bike here, the less I like it. I was parked in front of my cigarette shop when a guy comes up behind me and lays on his horn. Naturally, there's plenty of room for him, but he apparently felt compelled to prove to the White Monkey that he was the real man, or something like that, I guess. I played stupid (easy for me) and stared at his sunglasses. I had just lost to Phuong in a close tennis match, so I was ready to rumble. He just stared at me, like everyone else. Another treat: When you turn left into oncoming traffic, a bike inevitably comes up  behind you and then races past you and cuts you off as you finish your turn. Dangerous stuff. And when you turn right with your right-hand blinker on, some yahoo will inevitably try to pass on the right the moment you make the turn. I've seen at least three or four accidents since my last blog, and it's no surprise. People can be real chuckleheads sometimes.
Phuong was rejected again trying to get a visa to the United States so she could travel with me. I will go solo, which is a downer. We wanted to go to Scandinavia as well, but she can't get that visa either. She won't let me go solo there, which saves us a lot of money. Otherwise, all is well enough. Phuong is the most wonderful woman in the world and I'm the lucky pinhead that gets to be with her every day. So really, how bad can things be?

Death and "unfriends"

A neighbor's father died, so the neighbors set up a tent in the street in front of our house and began three days of mourning. I don't know the ins and outs of the process, but I saw lots of eating and beer drinking, incense being lit, and heard music from some kind of horn instrument and banjo-sounding string instrument. There was singing as well, and all of this continued well into the night. The mourners hung flags in the area with the Buddhist symbol that someone uninformed or ignorant might mistake for a swastika. One guy got pretty drunk and came into our house screaming something in Vietnamese that I obviously didn't understand. Phuong was cool -- she walked up to the guy and basically waved good-bye and sent him on his wobbly way. Death is very public and communal here, and sometimes quite noisy. It's been quite a learning experience for me.
The heat here has been awful .... in the mid-90s every day and brutally humid. I'm in a constant air-conditioning struggle with students, who want the AC either turned off or turned up in the classroom. I often go from site to site to teach, so I arrive a tad late or right on time. This means I'm rushing and I always hurry into the classroom hot and sweaty. I immediately look for the AC remote because I know the students will grab it and adjust the AC. Not acceptable. The White Monkey wants a cool environment to teach. It's one of the few times I'm very emphatic about who's in charge of the classroom, especially the remote.
I got Phuong a blender for her birthday, and it's the best gift I ever got. I use it every day to make smoothies, lemon ice and milkshakes. Phuong rarely touches the thing, so the blender is de facto the White Monkey's toy. Love it.
How important is Facebook to the students here? I asked students to give me the opposite of friend, and 99 percent said ''unfriend".  And they were deadly serious.
A challenge here for me is that I rarely teach the same class more than once in a week, so building rapport is extremely difficult. A class that has me once a week will most likely have a Vietnamese English teacher the other two times a week. A lot of Vietnamese is spoken around the school, so sometimes I feel a little inadequate communicating with the students. Whine, whine, whine.
Phuong and I are excited and nervous about her visa interview July 6 at the U.S. embassy in Ho Chi Minh City. This will determine if she gets a U.S. visa and joins me in the U.S. when I have eye work done and visit family and friends. Our fingers are crossed.
Phuong, the most wonderful woman in the world ever, found a new tennis court for us. No more chuckleheads walking, talking or stalking courtside. And this court has a roof (but it's still outdoors) so there are no more excuses about the sun in our eyes.
Our matches have become to-the-death struggles. I won 6-3 on Monday, we tied 5-5 Tuesday and Wednesday, and Phuong won 7-5 Thursday.  That sets up Friday's winner-take-all championship for the week. It's great fun and the workout is rather rough -- our shirts are soaked, and I mean soaked, with sweat after our matches.
During my physical to get my work permit renewed, I was diagnosed with cholecystitis. Phuong has me taking some kind of vegetable pill to make it go away. I take 15 a day. I have no symptoms or problems of any kind with whatever it is I have, so I'm not too concerned.
And if I die from whatever it is I have, I want a very quiet ceremony. Phuong has orders to throw my body into the Dong Nai River.

A work in progress

The house Phuong and I share looks great. It's three stories, has two bathrooms, three bedrooms and cable TV. Ah, but there are some issues. That's always the case, isn't it? About half the lights work, and it takes 5 to 12 seconds for the bathroom light to come on. The water pressure is OK, but the only warm water is in the upstairs shower. I use a kettle to heat water when I do dishes. And I've been told the water drains into our neighbor's walls. This is the karaoke neighbor, so I don't care. It's our landlord's issue, anyway. The stairs are steep, slippery, winding and moderately dangerous. If your feet are wet, all the floors, which are some sort of fake marble, are really slippery. I took a spectacular fall in our bathroom one night. And a while back, I closed the bathroom door, and it wouldn't open. I was stuck, until Phuong used a screwdriver and hammer and busted the door open, rendering the door knob useless. There are no vents in the kitchen, so when you cook the smoke leaves the room out the windows or open door. Fire alarms? Don't make me laugh. We run fans all the time. The good news is that the bedroom air conditioner works well. I do my school work in the bedroom, so it's where I spend most of my time.
I mention all this because a house is being built behind us, and one of the foundation pillars fell on Friday. Luckily, no kids were around, and no one was hurt. The pillar fell away from our house, but it still shook the earth. I hope they do a better job with the plumbing and electric. I'm always a little nervous when I stand on our third-floor balcony. It's a long way down.
Our friends David and Alexandra gave us fresh coffee beans as a gift when they visited. We used our new blender to grind the beans, but I went overboard and created coffee dust. The coffee is still excellent, but takes a really long time to make. I'm such a buffoon. I hope we can see those guys when we get to the United States. I'll make them a cup of coffee.
Phuong, who's a certified nurse, cured the ugly, god-awful heat rash on my arms. She found some liquid soap and cream, and within three days the rash was essentially gone. Phuong's also a certified IT person, so she can fix my computer and cell phone. She hooked me up with a second-hand printer that's made my life in my classes with real young students so much better. Phuong is one of those people who does just about everything well. She's been playing tennis for only a few months, but she wins about half our matches. I've been playing a long time, but then again, I'm one of those people who doesn't do much of anything well.
I've been a little tired lately, the result of cleaning up my lifestyle. Fewer cigarettes, less coffee, and more water. I had four classes Saturday and started the day exhausted, so I was expecting a rough time. Just the opposite. All the classes went well and I had a great day. Go figure. I've walked into classes super prepared with what I think is a super lesson plan, and the students have acted like I've got some ugly rash on my arms while I'm teaching. But overall, classes are super.
Speaking of super, Phuong and I have been together for a little over nine months. Happy, happy, happy.
We're waiting for Phuong's interview at the U.S. embassy in July to find out if she can get a visa and come to the U.S. with me. We're hopeful, but I've learned to expect the worst and hope for the best when it comes to this kind of stuff.

Rain, sweat and tears

The rainy season is starting, which means I travel between teaching sites in the rain, either on the back of a bike or on my own bike, and I arrive wet and sweaty. The plastic rain coats sold here are like sweat suits, so the rain mixes with sweat and you smell like a wet dog for the day. The rain just seems to make the locals cold, because the temperature will drop to a brisk 90 degrees F when it storms. The humidity is also about 90 percent. Brrrr. The weather has produced a weird rash on my forearms, which I hope is just a standard heat rash, not some exotic, tropical toxin. Unfortunately, I see a doctor's visit in my future.
I've been drinking lots of water in a lame attempt to get healthier, but the result has been buckets of sweat pouring out of my body 24/7. I've always been a heavy sweater, and the water therapy is only making matters worse.
My daily tennis with Phuong has been fun, hot, and of course, weird. The chuckleheads that play doubles when we finish got into a shouting match the other day, with one guy quitting the match and leaving the court. A guy sort of double-hit a return because the ball hit his frame and strings at the same time and then he "pushed" the ball over the net.  One of his opponents said he hit the ball twice and wanted the point. The shouting ensued, followed by the walk-off.  Whatever.
When Phuong and I play, one guy does robot-like aerobics about 10 feet from me when I serve. Big distraction. The talkers are back, also. Vietnamese is essentially a mono-syllabic, tonal language. The tones can be sharp, so two guys simply chatting sound like they're fighting about spousal infidelity. I got pissed the other day with all the crap going on next to me, so I yelled "screw this", paid my money and left with 15 minutes of time still owed to us. I didn't care about the money -- the tennis is reasonably priced, but I don't pay to be bothered by robot-man or the mouths that roar. Some pretty boy with a David Beckham haircut showed up one day and came on way too strong to Phuong. What a wing-ding this loser was. All I want to do is play a little tennis. Just another day in the life here.
I wanted to go to the U.S. in June, but Phuong couldn't get an interview at the U.S. embassy until July. We'll see what happens. If she can't go, then I'll travel solo.
Two houses are being built directly behind our house, so the melodic sound of construction work starts at 6 a.m. and continues until 6 p.m. And the good news: They work seven days a week. Speaking of melody, a guy on our street died and the mourning requires three days of music, drum pounding and singing. Pretty much around the clock. I respect everyone's religion, unless it involves cutting people's heads off, but kids have school, people have work and I have to sleep. Too bad, I guess. In Ho Chi Minh City, I was told mourners have to rent a hall for their ceremonies. Good idea.
The adult classes I have are pretty quiet, but the kids classes are awesome.  I break the ice with adults by speaking Vietnamese. That way, they can laugh at me and maybe not feel so embarrassed speaking English. The kids don't care so they're a hoot. Kids are great everywhere. Too bad they grow up to be adults who talk way too loud and do aerobics next to me while I play tennis.

Hong Kong is cool, except for tourists

I'm not a people person. Not when it comes to huge crowds of people stampeding you to get ahead in line, or take a picture, or get a piece of chicken at a buffet. Hong Kong is an interesting, beautiful and entertaining city. And the locals seemed pretty well-adapted to the tight spaces and fast pace of life. But the visitors, many from China ... god, the visitors. Phuong and I also fall into that category -- we were visitors -- but we tried our best not to be homo neanderthalensis when we went to Disneyland, Ocean Park, Madame Tussauds and restaurants. As a result, we got shoved, pushed, butted in front of, and had cameras and elbows thrust in our faces by throngs of chuckleheads looking for what they perceived was an advantage. I really liked Hong Kong, but .... well, I guess I'm not a people person.
Disneyland Hong Kong was OK. I've been to Disneyland in the U.S., which is larger and more Disney-esque. I didn't mind that the Hong Kong version wasn't huge. It had the usual stuff, like Lion King, It's a Small World,  photos with Mickey and Minnie, Tomorrowland and more. The parades were well done, but the fireworks show was a bit of a dud. I was surprised by that, but after a long day in humid Hong Kong, a short show was swell with me. A woman crawled between my legs -- on concrete -- so she could stand in front of me and videotape the fireworks. We were standing in our spot for 30 minutes, and she crawled into action three minutes before the show. Gotta love it.
Ocean Park was cool, and the aquarium was excellent, even though a Chinese woman nearly knocked me on my ass while I was taking a picture, and then yelled at me for being in her way. But this behavior was one of the subplots of the trip for me. Maybe I'm too sensitive. I know I'm not a people person.
Tai chi was everywhere, and I loved it. People were practicing in nearly every park. And there are lots of little parks in Hong Kong nestled among the countless highrises and skyscrapers. But people don't flinch at tai chi. On our last day, our bus made an unexplained stop that lasted way too long. So I got out and did my tai chi on the sidewalk. The locals walked around me and honestly didn't give me a second glance. Only the Vietnamese on our travel bus gawked and giggled a little. The tour guide tried to mimic me and one girl came out from the bus to watch a little. Actually, the Vietnamese were cool about it and more or less congratulated me when I got back on the bus. I've been doing tai chi a long, long time, so even though I'm not in great shape, my form wasn't too bad. Phuong didn't seem too humiliated by the whole thing.
Hong Kong food wasn't bad, but I prefer Thai food. But our meals were OK, even with the chicken head on the plate.  Like I noted, the weather is humid and pretty warm, but not like Vietnam. The people weren't overly friendly like Thailand, but they weren't creeps (except for the tourists). Hong Kong reminds me a little of San Francisco. Lots of hills, water, scenery, and things to do.
7-11 is everywhere, but that was convenient since our hotel, the Regal pain in the ass, didn't offer free ice, free internet, or much of anything else. I got hassled at my complimentary breakfast by some turd who insisted I'd have to pay. I'll take the high road and chalk it up to a language barrier.
Phuong and I had four nice days in Hong Kong, and equally important, she got a stamp in her passport that hopefully will lead to a USA travel visa.  Hong Kong is a modern city with no motorbikes to speak of. It focuses on foreign companies and business, food, tai chi and tourism. Too bad the tourism brings in tourists. It's like my old friend Steve Wolfe used to say: California is really great, except for the all the Californians.