Phuong and I were eating chicken wings for lunch the other day when I bit on something that felt like glass. I spit out the white, porcelain-like material and thought it was bone. Make that ...hoped it was bone. Wrong. It was my front tooth. The material was enamel, or something like that. I have a bridge of four fake, front, top teeth. For 38 years or so the bridge gave me a Tom Cruise smile, or so I thought. Now I look like a minor league hockey player. My front teeth are falling apart, so I'm rolling the dice and having a Vietnamese dentist replace my bridge. The good news is that Phuong knows the dentist, and the dentist is a woman. I like Vietnamese women because they're direct and practical. The dentist is going to "fix me up" later in October, so I hope to return to the United States in November looking like Tom Cruise again -- or no worse than Mr. Ed. Looks don't mean much at this stage of my life, but I want to be able to chew until Phuong puts me in the Dong Nai River.
September and October have been extremely rainy this year. It always rains as I'm leaving for work or traveling between assignments on a bike. Last week, storm Number 3 (the storms get numbers here) slammed into me while I was on the back of a bike going from my first class at a sneaker company to my second class at our home office. The rain and wind was so severe my driver stopped the bike. We waited a few minutes and the rain got more intense, flooding the streets because the drains are filled with litter. So we got back on the bike and sloshed our way to my second of three classes that night. The ride usually takes 20 to 30 minutes. That night it took 55 minutes because we had to detour to avoid flooding. I arrived soaking wet to class, 20 minutes late. My students looked at me like I was some guy with giant front teeth. They had no pity for the White Monkey even though my shoes squished when I walked. It was still raining when class finished, and I had to ride my bike to another site for my third class. Not a good night, but I got through. I woke up sick the next day, but Phuong made me soak my feet in warm salt water for half an hour. Son of a gun, I got better immediately and instantly resumed my cigarette smoking with no ill effects, other than the usual ill effects from cigarette smoking.
I took a nasty fall in tennis a week ago. Phuong hit the ball toward my man zone and I tried some fancy footwork to hit a winner at the net. I promptly fell on my right hip ... hard. Bone met hardcourt and hardcourt won that point. A lesser man, for example Hercules, would have stopped playing. I continued and won the title that day on one leg. The hip is slowly improving. My friend Ron diagnosed my injury -- from thousands of miles away during a skype chat -- as a hip pointer. I ice it after we play every day and all seems to be going fairly well other than an odd popping sound in my hip when I bend over. I've stopped bending over. Today, I charged the net on one point and Phuong hit the ball extremely hard and it went between my legs, missing the man zone by mere inches. We're still laughing and it's nine hours later. The match ended in a 6-6 tie, by the way.
Classes are very good, the students are very good, and Phuong is the greatest human being in the known universe. I can't wait to marry her. There's some work left to do for this to happen, but I'll save that for another blog. So this gap-toothed, hobbling White Monkey is quite content.
Thursday, October 8, 2015
Thursday, September 24, 2015
City sights ... and horrible news
Phuong and I moved out of the house we were renting last week. We
moved into a very small room in a hotel/motel behind the house. And we don't
hate each other ... yet. We're on the fourth floor -- they call it third
floor here. No matter what you call it, there are four flights of stars.
It's 62 steps up, and, unbelievable, 62 steps down. I'm still tired from
the move, but fortunately, we didn't take a whole lot of stuff so it
could have been worse. The other day I was rushing to work and when I
got downstairs realized I forgot something and trudged back upstairs to
get it. The joys of living on the 3rd/4th floor.
One joy, really, about living the high life is the view from our balcony. I sit on the balcony every morning with my coffee and take in the sights of the city: the vegetable man riding his bike pulling a cart piled with veggies; the Cambodian bread girl riding her bike so fast that buying bread from her takes quick reactions and impeccable timing; the construction workers next door taking a leak on the side of a small house across the street. At night, the lights of the city are very pretty and the singing from the coffee shop across the way is pretty awful. Phuong and I mimic the singers and get quite the laugh out of it. Overall, the hotel is kind of cool. The owners seem to like us and let us use their kitchen. They're very friendly and accommodating. Most of the other customers here rent their rooms for a few hours because they're with, uh hum, ladies of the night. But that action is on the lower floors, so to speak, so we don't care, mind, or interact with them. That's the cleaning lady's problem, not ours.
Phuong and I celebrated our one-year engagement anniversary on Thursday, Sept. 24. The best year of my life. I got Phuong earrings and a small, gold cross. And two cans with eight new tennis balls, which we'll break open like champagne for our championship match on Friday. We're tied 2-2 this week thanks to a very controversial call by Phuong on match point today. Hawkeye wasn't working.
The foreign teachers come and go where I teach, so my hours have picked up a little lately. No big deal, though. Phuong and I see quite a bit of each other in our room and on the court.
We found out some horrible news on Thursday. Phuong's cousin was found dead on the street near Metro, where we shop sometimes. His hands were bound behind his back. We're still learning what happened, but it's not a good situation. We'll attend a service tomorrow.
I'm really looking forward to my trip back to the U.S. in November. Cool weather and cool people -- family and friends. I'll be busy with my eye doctor as well as trying to find a way to get Phuong to the U.S. one day.
One joy, really, about living the high life is the view from our balcony. I sit on the balcony every morning with my coffee and take in the sights of the city: the vegetable man riding his bike pulling a cart piled with veggies; the Cambodian bread girl riding her bike so fast that buying bread from her takes quick reactions and impeccable timing; the construction workers next door taking a leak on the side of a small house across the street. At night, the lights of the city are very pretty and the singing from the coffee shop across the way is pretty awful. Phuong and I mimic the singers and get quite the laugh out of it. Overall, the hotel is kind of cool. The owners seem to like us and let us use their kitchen. They're very friendly and accommodating. Most of the other customers here rent their rooms for a few hours because they're with, uh hum, ladies of the night. But that action is on the lower floors, so to speak, so we don't care, mind, or interact with them. That's the cleaning lady's problem, not ours.
Phuong and I celebrated our one-year engagement anniversary on Thursday, Sept. 24. The best year of my life. I got Phuong earrings and a small, gold cross. And two cans with eight new tennis balls, which we'll break open like champagne for our championship match on Friday. We're tied 2-2 this week thanks to a very controversial call by Phuong on match point today. Hawkeye wasn't working.
The foreign teachers come and go where I teach, so my hours have picked up a little lately. No big deal, though. Phuong and I see quite a bit of each other in our room and on the court.
We found out some horrible news on Thursday. Phuong's cousin was found dead on the street near Metro, where we shop sometimes. His hands were bound behind his back. We're still learning what happened, but it's not a good situation. We'll attend a service tomorrow.
I'm really looking forward to my trip back to the U.S. in November. Cool weather and cool people -- family and friends. I'll be busy with my eye doctor as well as trying to find a way to get Phuong to the U.S. one day.
Thursday, September 10, 2015
Good-bye house, we're moving to a motel
A long and complicated story about the house we are renting will come to an abrupt end in a few days when we move into the Nha Nghi, a motel pretty much right behind our house. It's one street over from our old house and Phuong's family's house, so really, there is someplace like home. I admit I'll miss the lousy electric, leaky roof, dangerous stairs, hyperactive gas stove, the geckos, and the noisy birds that live on the third floor of the old house. But as long as Phuong and I are together, life is grand. I've rented two houses here, and let's just say the end game in both instances wasn't particularly pleasant, so moving on isn't very difficult. We're on the fourth floor of the motel (that's what they call it here), which means we still have the joy of going up and down dangerous stairs several times a day.
After tennis, Phuong and I usually go to a coffee shop called Lido's on the Dong Nai River. An alley leads to Lido's, and that's where everyone parks their bikes. When we park my bike, we can look in the side window of a small household plumbing store. It was there that we met "the nice lady," who works in the plumbing store. We chatted with her through the window and became friends. She gave us a book written by her friend, an American who fought in the Vietnam War. Much of the book focuses on events in Dong Nai Province, where we live. Sadly, "the nice lady" quit and has been replaced by "the not as nice lady." The replacement lady isn't mean or anything, but she seems bored with the job -- she cuts her toenails while she's sitting behind the very small counter, but at least the clippings appear to be aimed toward a trashcan. The other day, she was on her cell phone crying while talking to whoever (crying females aren't that uncommon here, from what I've seen). I miss "the nice lady."
Also, the staff at Lido's changes almost daily. The guy -- a kid, really -- who gave me a cool key chain, is gone. A nice little girl (about 16), who jokingly thought I was going to throw her into the Dong Nai River one day, is gone. I tried to speak Vietnamese to her at Phuong's urging and the little girl thought I said I was going to toss her into the river. We had a good laugh. Every time she saw me she would say, "No river. No swim." The world of coffee shops here is pretty fast-moving and interesting. My former favorite coffee shop, Vang's, now employs girls with short shorts and short skirts. It wasn't like that before, when the wonderful Nguyen girls in bluejeans worked there. The other day, this young security guard at Vang's wouldn't let me park my bike in the 50 open spaces in front of the shop. He wanted me to squeeze my bike into a crowded alley. Good-bye, Vang's.
On a sad note, Phuong's grandmother died today. Phuong found out right after tennis. We'll pay our respects tomorrow (Friday) and Phuong's grandmother, who was 97, will be buried Sunday. Grandmom had eight children, Phuong's wonderful mom among them, of course. God bless.
After tennis, Phuong and I usually go to a coffee shop called Lido's on the Dong Nai River. An alley leads to Lido's, and that's where everyone parks their bikes. When we park my bike, we can look in the side window of a small household plumbing store. It was there that we met "the nice lady," who works in the plumbing store. We chatted with her through the window and became friends. She gave us a book written by her friend, an American who fought in the Vietnam War. Much of the book focuses on events in Dong Nai Province, where we live. Sadly, "the nice lady" quit and has been replaced by "the not as nice lady." The replacement lady isn't mean or anything, but she seems bored with the job -- she cuts her toenails while she's sitting behind the very small counter, but at least the clippings appear to be aimed toward a trashcan. The other day, she was on her cell phone crying while talking to whoever (crying females aren't that uncommon here, from what I've seen). I miss "the nice lady."
Also, the staff at Lido's changes almost daily. The guy -- a kid, really -- who gave me a cool key chain, is gone. A nice little girl (about 16), who jokingly thought I was going to throw her into the Dong Nai River one day, is gone. I tried to speak Vietnamese to her at Phuong's urging and the little girl thought I said I was going to toss her into the river. We had a good laugh. Every time she saw me she would say, "No river. No swim." The world of coffee shops here is pretty fast-moving and interesting. My former favorite coffee shop, Vang's, now employs girls with short shorts and short skirts. It wasn't like that before, when the wonderful Nguyen girls in bluejeans worked there. The other day, this young security guard at Vang's wouldn't let me park my bike in the 50 open spaces in front of the shop. He wanted me to squeeze my bike into a crowded alley. Good-bye, Vang's.
On a sad note, Phuong's grandmother died today. Phuong found out right after tennis. We'll pay our respects tomorrow (Friday) and Phuong's grandmother, who was 97, will be buried Sunday. Grandmom had eight children, Phuong's wonderful mom among them, of course. God bless.
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
A new market and mall; an unhappy anniversary
A super-duper market and mall, Vincom, opened in Bien Hoa last week. It's located at the corner of the busiest, most lawless intersection in this jam-packed city of 1 million people, and Vincom seems to have attracted a lot of automobile traffic to the area along with even more motorbikes. The mall itself is pretty nice inside and since the merchandise is geared to the clientele here, you can buy lots of little shirts and pants and shoes. They don't carry White Monkey size in Bien Hoa. For the bigger Monkey, you have to go to the bigger city, Ho Chi Minh. The super-duper market isn't so super, but it's OK. It has air-conditioning, unlike Metro. The Vincom market has good, cheap bread, and other items like Tabasco, at a steep price. There's the same old lousy beer selection, which means watery, bland, Asian lagers and a German beer, Erdinger wheat, which is somewhat average in the White Monkey's opinion. The hot food area in the super-duper market is pretty twisted. You order food, like a couple of chicken legs, you get a sticker and wait in line to pay, and then go back to the food servers, who search for your food by trying to match up the stickers. OK, I played along and eventually got two pretty decent pieces of chicken. There were only two checkout lanes opened and the place was rockin', so the line-cutters had a field day. We waited a little, but amazingly, a third checkout counter opened and we got through fairly quickly. You park your motorbike in the basement underneath the five-storey mall, and there clearly isn't enough parking space. We were able to wedge our bike into a space, and with a little maneuvering, were able to make our escape. All things considered, not a bad experience overall. If you're a single guy, it's not a bad place to hang out. Lots of pretty girls are there in short shorts and skirts, which is something of a uniform for the women here. But I'm not a single guy, so I probably won't be returning any time soon.
September 1 was the two-year anniversary of my mysterious motorcycle accident -- my own personal head-bangers' ball. To commemorate the event, I had an incredible spell of dizziness and feeling of nausea on anniversary day. Weird. I had been pretty much symptom free until anniversary day, but it was a strong enough event to throw me off my game -- Phuong beat me 6-4 in tennis that day. Every great athlete has an excuse, however, and I'm already thinking about why I'll lose my next match. Our tennis is pretty hotly contested these days because Phuong has improved dramatically, and she's a natural athlete anyway. Also, the White Monkey is turning into the Grey Monkey. As my friend, the fantastic photographer Fred Comegys, once said: "The Golden Years my ass."
Phuong's family has considerable talent. Her dad is a smart businessman, her brother is the handiest of handymen, and her mom is a tailor and superb cook. Mom has made some cool underwear for me since I can't buy undies here because of my fat arse. Phuong's brother has done some wonderful electric work in our house, and now we can turn on lights without getting electrocuted. Phuong can do all of the above, in addition to being a thorn in my side at tennis. Plus, she knows her way around the pharmacies here, so the White Monkey is well-stocked with vitamins and such.
Almost all my classes are great, so work is a plus. I'm looking forward to visiting the U.S. in November/December and can't wait to see family and friends. I really wish Phuong could have joined me, but that'll make coming back so much better. She's sitting next to me and I already miss her.
September 1 was the two-year anniversary of my mysterious motorcycle accident -- my own personal head-bangers' ball. To commemorate the event, I had an incredible spell of dizziness and feeling of nausea on anniversary day. Weird. I had been pretty much symptom free until anniversary day, but it was a strong enough event to throw me off my game -- Phuong beat me 6-4 in tennis that day. Every great athlete has an excuse, however, and I'm already thinking about why I'll lose my next match. Our tennis is pretty hotly contested these days because Phuong has improved dramatically, and she's a natural athlete anyway. Also, the White Monkey is turning into the Grey Monkey. As my friend, the fantastic photographer Fred Comegys, once said: "The Golden Years my ass."
Phuong's family has considerable talent. Her dad is a smart businessman, her brother is the handiest of handymen, and her mom is a tailor and superb cook. Mom has made some cool underwear for me since I can't buy undies here because of my fat arse. Phuong's brother has done some wonderful electric work in our house, and now we can turn on lights without getting electrocuted. Phuong can do all of the above, in addition to being a thorn in my side at tennis. Plus, she knows her way around the pharmacies here, so the White Monkey is well-stocked with vitamins and such.
Almost all my classes are great, so work is a plus. I'm looking forward to visiting the U.S. in November/December and can't wait to see family and friends. I really wish Phuong could have joined me, but that'll make coming back so much better. She's sitting next to me and I already miss her.
Sunday, August 23, 2015
Cutting toenails and wearing underwear outside
Since people live rather close together here, privacy is not a real priority like it is in other countries -- the United States, for example. In Bien Hoa, I've seen people stop their bike, get off and pee on the side of a road. Sunday, an 18-year-old girl who lives across the street from me was cutting her toenails on her front steps. A lot of men on my street walk around with no shirts, shorts that look like underwear, and flip-flops. Men and women do each others' hair sitting outside. I plead guilty to some of this behavior as well -- although I wash my hair in the shower, and I swear I don't cut my toenails or pee outside, unless it's a real emergency. The minimal clothing makes sense given the persistent heat. I get more weird looks when I dress up in a shirt and tie than I do when I sit on my front steps in my underwear having a smoke. I admit, I like the underwear-shorts thing because it's so hot and doesn't seem to matter to anyone.
This week, I posted a picture on facebook that I took of Erawan shrine in Bangkok when Phuong and I visited Thailand in February. I didn't post to show off after Monday's bombing. I was just struck at how someone's life could be ended or horrifically altered by grim circumstances. I guess fate can be cruel that way -- we visit and no worries, but if we go to the same place at the wrong time, our lives could be so tragically different, if not ended. I don't know, it just kind of rattled me that a place I recently enjoyed so much with Phuong became the scene of carnage for reasons I'll never understand.
Phuong and I were set to move into a new house, but the owners backed out of the deal more or less at the last minute. No shock, really. Everything seems a bit complicated here -- see past blogs about visas and tennis and language and shopping and riding a motorbike.
The more I teach, the more I learn about teaching. That's why I like the job so much. I've realized that students have bad days just like teachers, and when students are having a bad day, the teacher can't or shouldn't let that affect his/her performance. I know this isn't a news flash for anyone, but for me it means so much more to experience it, and to do the right thing in response. Or at least try to do the right thing. I'm still learning and I am sure I'll always be learning. When I go back to the U.S. in November, I hope my teacher-mentor Laurie Maravetz will listen to my whining for just a little bit. She's an amazing teacher.
Phuong's cooking is unbelievable ... really. She combines Vietnamese with U.S. flavors and creates a masterpiece every night. And she's not afraid to experiment, always with fantastic results. Pork and cow burger get mixed and put into spaghetti with tomatoes (not sauce), garlic, onions and other stuff I've never seen before. Awesome. Her fish soup is fantastic. I cook pulled pork on Thursdays, and I copy Phuong and my meals have been OK ... certainly better than they used to be. I'm getting a little chubby, but that's no concern. I'm getting old, too.
My motorbike tip of the week: You can't have any ego when you ride a bike here. If you do, you'll get really pissed off or go crazy trying to seek revenge. A no-win scenario.
This week, I posted a picture on facebook that I took of Erawan shrine in Bangkok when Phuong and I visited Thailand in February. I didn't post to show off after Monday's bombing. I was just struck at how someone's life could be ended or horrifically altered by grim circumstances. I guess fate can be cruel that way -- we visit and no worries, but if we go to the same place at the wrong time, our lives could be so tragically different, if not ended. I don't know, it just kind of rattled me that a place I recently enjoyed so much with Phuong became the scene of carnage for reasons I'll never understand.
Phuong and I were set to move into a new house, but the owners backed out of the deal more or less at the last minute. No shock, really. Everything seems a bit complicated here -- see past blogs about visas and tennis and language and shopping and riding a motorbike.
The more I teach, the more I learn about teaching. That's why I like the job so much. I've realized that students have bad days just like teachers, and when students are having a bad day, the teacher can't or shouldn't let that affect his/her performance. I know this isn't a news flash for anyone, but for me it means so much more to experience it, and to do the right thing in response. Or at least try to do the right thing. I'm still learning and I am sure I'll always be learning. When I go back to the U.S. in November, I hope my teacher-mentor Laurie Maravetz will listen to my whining for just a little bit. She's an amazing teacher.
Phuong's cooking is unbelievable ... really. She combines Vietnamese with U.S. flavors and creates a masterpiece every night. And she's not afraid to experiment, always with fantastic results. Pork and cow burger get mixed and put into spaghetti with tomatoes (not sauce), garlic, onions and other stuff I've never seen before. Awesome. Her fish soup is fantastic. I cook pulled pork on Thursdays, and I copy Phuong and my meals have been OK ... certainly better than they used to be. I'm getting a little chubby, but that's no concern. I'm getting old, too.
My motorbike tip of the week: You can't have any ego when you ride a bike here. If you do, you'll get really pissed off or go crazy trying to seek revenge. A no-win scenario.
Thursday, August 13, 2015
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!
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!
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
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.
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.
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