I teach a group of government workers, and they're pretty nice folk. Most are older, with husbands and wives and children. I was explaining apples to the group -- things like core, stem, skin, seeds, pie, cider, and all things apple. I brought in some peanut butter and apples and explained how this is a good combination and popular with some people in my country. I invited the class to try a small slice of apple with a little peanut butter on it. The 10 students looked at me in horror, like I asked them to lick the top and bottom of my shoes. I had already cut one apple into quarters, so I slapped some peanut butter on a quarter and ate the damn thing, exaggerating how good it was. Really, it was good (USA apples and chunky peanut butter from Golden Farms, a local company). Finally, two women wanted to try a quarter slice with peanut butter, and I think they actually liked it. They ate the whole piece, which I coated with peanut butter, and said it was very good. No one else budged. They refused to even have a taste. That's not how I live my life, but what the hell do I know.
I walked into a new store coming home from my daily walk. It was a crepes store, and they sell specialty drinks along with ice cream and fruit wrapped in crepes. I asked to see a menu and was instantly surrounded by three staffers. Bad sign. The girl who opened the menu motioned for me to order one of the drinks on the right-hand side of the menu. But I wanted crepes with strawberries and ice cream, so I pointed to where this item was listed on the menu. That set off a barrage of questions and Vietnamese-speak, none of which I truly understood. Again, I pointed to the item I wanted -- and asked for two of them so Phuong could have one -- but things got more complicated. I asked for the items "to go" and the staffers looked at me in horror, like I asked them to lick the top and bottom of my shoes. One guy said in tepid English that the ice cream would melt and they wouldn't give me the items "to go." I tried to explain to the English speaker that I lived two minutes away so it was no problem. But in unison the staff shook their heads and hands and wouldn't make the crepes "to go" for me. I'll never go in that shop again, but those losers don't care. They know what's best for the White Monkey because the White Monkey is a flaming idiot who doesn't know what's good for him. But that's how people do business here. Screw the customer. The customer is wrong and they're always right and you can take it or leave it. So ... I'll leave it. Good-bye. It reminds me of some computer stores in the United States where a snarky teen refuses to wait on you until he or she is damn well ready.
Another mystery on the walk: One of the Hu tieu girls decided the White Monkey is not welcome to share food with the girls. Three of the girls seem OK when I drop off some food, but one of the girls (really, a 38-year-old woman) runs up to me and shoos me away when I approach with a treat. Really. No big deal for me, so the treat exchange is over and I buy my Hu tieu elsewhere. Weird.
Joanna is going to be a United States citizen. We spent all afternoon at the U.S. Embassy on Tuesday, and the applications were accepted and stamped and pre-approved and post-approved. Now we're trying to get Phuong a visa for our trip to the U.S. If Phuong is rejected again and keeps getting rejected -- even though we're married with a child -- we'll look into moving to Canada when I retire. Prince Edward Island is one of the nicest places I've ever been to, but winter could be too much for my wife. We'll see what happens. I really like Yellow Springs, Ohio, so I hope my government realizes Phuong is so cool, so nice, and an asset wherever she goes.
Friday, September 2, 2016
Saturday, August 27, 2016
Daughter Joanna improves my quality of life
Life has been wonderful since the arrival of my daughter Joanna Pham Millman. I've had several extremely close calls on my motorbike, but no accidents. My lottery ticket was a winner last week and paid Phuong and I a crisp 100,000 ... dong (a little less than $5 in U.S. currency). Phuong's mom hit for 200,000 later in the week by playing my birthday numbers. The rich get richer. And it gets better. The donut lady I haven't seen for more than a week walked past our front door hauling a ton of donuts. No doubt about it, these donuts with a one-inch caramelized sugar coating will decay your sweet tooth, but that's a small price to pay for these tasty treats. And the actual price is even smaller .... six for 10,000 dong (less than 50 cents U.S.)
Phuong's mom is totally enamored with Joanna, like all of us are. Phuong's mom has two grandsons, but there's a special bond that connects a grandmother and granddaughter. My mom was so taken with my daughters Jessica and Caroline that she could hold them for hours, and make sure their every wish was granted. And she was smiling the whole time. I love my kids, but I admit I don't have that kind of parental endurance. I really wish my mom could have seen Joanna. I'm happy Phuong's mom can spend time with her and spoil the heck out of her -- and us.
We're back on the U.S. Embassy trail, requesting an appointment to get started on Joanna's U.S. citizenship request. We had to scan four documents to send with our emailed request for an appointment at the Embassy. When and if we get the appointment, we must bring the emailed documents and a whole bunch of other documents to get things rolling. We'll apply for Joanna's U.S. citizenship, passport, and social security card and number all at once. We need to have this happen quickly if we hope to come to the U.S. later this year as a family. I have to return for eye work -- again -- but I can't imagine being without Phuong and Joanna when I travel this time.
Joanna is finally starting to grow a little hair, and it's clearly reddish-brown. So cool. But the main concern, of course, is that all is well with our little angel (that's what Phuong calls her sometimes -- I like it). Joanna is closing in on being two months old but still hasn't seen a doctor yet. Seems odd to me, but that's how they do things here. She's sleeping lots lately, but she's also eating lots lately, and pooping lots lately, and smiling more lately. Everything seems OK so far.
I had a wonderful week of classes. One small teen class was a problem, but that's nothing new with this group. I'm not sure what the issue is, but I've suggested to the staff they get a younger, more energetic teacher for the class in question. Everything I've tried -- from videos to games to handouts to music -- has been met with silence and a shrug or sneer from this group. I hope their new teacher fares better than I did. I certainly tried but it's obvious that some fresh blood is needed. It kind of bums me out because I feel like I failed. But all my other classes are going great, so I guess I shouldn't get too bummed out about it.
I tried to buy gasoline for the motorbike today, but neither attendant would wait on me. They motioned to each other to wait on me, but neither would get off their ass to sell me some gas. I wonder if my race is an explanation. They both took care of Vietnamese customers while I waited. I finally rode to another station to get gas. Phuong said it was a control issue, explaining to me that everyone here wants to be a boss and tell someone else what to do. They can kiss my crankshaft for all I care.
But stuff like this rolls off my back these days. I've got a wonderful wife and daughter who are both good luck charms for the White Monkey.
Phuong's mom is totally enamored with Joanna, like all of us are. Phuong's mom has two grandsons, but there's a special bond that connects a grandmother and granddaughter. My mom was so taken with my daughters Jessica and Caroline that she could hold them for hours, and make sure their every wish was granted. And she was smiling the whole time. I love my kids, but I admit I don't have that kind of parental endurance. I really wish my mom could have seen Joanna. I'm happy Phuong's mom can spend time with her and spoil the heck out of her -- and us.
We're back on the U.S. Embassy trail, requesting an appointment to get started on Joanna's U.S. citizenship request. We had to scan four documents to send with our emailed request for an appointment at the Embassy. When and if we get the appointment, we must bring the emailed documents and a whole bunch of other documents to get things rolling. We'll apply for Joanna's U.S. citizenship, passport, and social security card and number all at once. We need to have this happen quickly if we hope to come to the U.S. later this year as a family. I have to return for eye work -- again -- but I can't imagine being without Phuong and Joanna when I travel this time.
Joanna is finally starting to grow a little hair, and it's clearly reddish-brown. So cool. But the main concern, of course, is that all is well with our little angel (that's what Phuong calls her sometimes -- I like it). Joanna is closing in on being two months old but still hasn't seen a doctor yet. Seems odd to me, but that's how they do things here. She's sleeping lots lately, but she's also eating lots lately, and pooping lots lately, and smiling more lately. Everything seems OK so far.
I had a wonderful week of classes. One small teen class was a problem, but that's nothing new with this group. I'm not sure what the issue is, but I've suggested to the staff they get a younger, more energetic teacher for the class in question. Everything I've tried -- from videos to games to handouts to music -- has been met with silence and a shrug or sneer from this group. I hope their new teacher fares better than I did. I certainly tried but it's obvious that some fresh blood is needed. It kind of bums me out because I feel like I failed. But all my other classes are going great, so I guess I shouldn't get too bummed out about it.
I tried to buy gasoline for the motorbike today, but neither attendant would wait on me. They motioned to each other to wait on me, but neither would get off their ass to sell me some gas. I wonder if my race is an explanation. They both took care of Vietnamese customers while I waited. I finally rode to another station to get gas. Phuong said it was a control issue, explaining to me that everyone here wants to be a boss and tell someone else what to do. They can kiss my crankshaft for all I care.
But stuff like this rolls off my back these days. I've got a wonderful wife and daughter who are both good luck charms for the White Monkey.
Sunday, August 21, 2016
Entertainment in Vietnam and teaching manners
When you're an old White Monkey, what do you do for fun? These days, I sit with my wife Phuong on our bed and we watch our daughter Joanna sleep. And we talk about how wonderful she is. Now that's entertainment. Joanna sleeps with her arms raised like she just won the Wimbledon final. She smiles a lot in her sleep, no doubt dreaming about her dad's funny face. Sometimes she sleeps with her eyes open, just like her mom. Creepy. Joanna is six weeks old and she seems to be doing just fine. Her baby acne is gone thanks to my suggested treatment of putting her in a cold room and taking off the hat, gloves and towels that she was wrapped in by her mom and grandmom, Joanna doesn't seem to enjoy the heat here -- just like her dad. After all, she's got half of my genes. Her skin is white at this point, and her hair is brown with a little red and a little blonde. It's pretty thin for now. Her eyes are green, according to Phuong, but I think they're brown. She's pretty big, like her dad, but fortunately, her eyes and face resemble Phuong's, in my opinion. That's great news because my wife is beautiful. Phuong is an incredibly doting mom and she is absolutely devoted to making sure everything is wonderful with Joanna. I love 'em both, of course. However, I almost choked on my chocolate milk the other day when Phuong mentioned that Joanna really needs a little brother or sister.
I'm becoming friends with the Hu tieu girls and their mom. They give me free Vietnamese desserts when I buy Hu tieu (about twice a week) and I give them cookies and little cakes in return. Phuong says their Hu tieu has too much sugar in the soup, but I like it. They give me a good-sized portion and I leave a little tip and we're all happy. As it should be.
I bought a backpack today at a little store on Vo Thi Sau, where I walk every day. When you walk into a store here, the clerks come rushing at you and won't give you a moment's peace. When I was looking at the backpack I wanted, I asked the girl "how much" in Vietnamese. Granted, my Vietnamese sucks and doesn't meet the ridiculously stringent standard of the locals, but I said "bao nhieu?" as well as I needed to -- I suspect most people here would get it. But this girl didn't understand. I think she was trying to sell me a more expensive backpack. Ah, but the store owner, who knows me from my walks and previous purchases there, screamed BAO NHIEU at the girl and smiled at me. I'll have to get that guy a Christmas card this year.
The store also sells baseball-type caps with Hollister, Vans, Nike and such embroidered on them. I guess they're knock-offs, but some of them seem legit. Who knows and who cares? They're 30,000 Dong each (about $1.50), so I've bought about 25. They're always on a table outside the store so I don't have to deal with the clerks. I tried to give a couple to my son Alec when he visited, but he said he's not a cap guy. I'm not either, but I don't want my face fried by the sun here, so I cap out.
My right shoulder was bothering me a little this week, and I mentioned it to my massage girl Chi. Man, did she go to work on me, twisting my right arm, punching my shoulder, squeezing the hell out of my shoulder and arm, and cracking my elbow, wrist and fingers. Son of a gun, the shoulder is fine now. Chi can't be taller than 4-foot-eight, and she has the tiniest hands I've ever seen. But she's strong, gritty, and gives a great massage. No nonsense. She takes her job seriously and I really like her.
Classes are going well, but I do teach lots of little kids. In addition to English, I feel compelled to teach them not to curse, not to throw trash on the floor, how to say please, thank you, no thank you, sorry and excuse me, not to screw up their faces and say WHAT? when they don't understand something, not to wave their hand in a White Monkey's face to say no, not to cut in line, and to always allow ladies to go first. All that additional stuff is so much more challenging than the English because it goes against what these kids have seen and experienced most of their lives. We're making progress, although I admit that sometimes I get frustrated. But these are good kids and they want to do the right thing. They're learning. I'm not trying to change anyone's culture, but I want them to understand how successful they can be when they treat others with kindness and respect. These are lessons I wish I had more of -- or paid more attention to -- when I was a kid.
I'm becoming friends with the Hu tieu girls and their mom. They give me free Vietnamese desserts when I buy Hu tieu (about twice a week) and I give them cookies and little cakes in return. Phuong says their Hu tieu has too much sugar in the soup, but I like it. They give me a good-sized portion and I leave a little tip and we're all happy. As it should be.
I bought a backpack today at a little store on Vo Thi Sau, where I walk every day. When you walk into a store here, the clerks come rushing at you and won't give you a moment's peace. When I was looking at the backpack I wanted, I asked the girl "how much" in Vietnamese. Granted, my Vietnamese sucks and doesn't meet the ridiculously stringent standard of the locals, but I said "bao nhieu?" as well as I needed to -- I suspect most people here would get it. But this girl didn't understand. I think she was trying to sell me a more expensive backpack. Ah, but the store owner, who knows me from my walks and previous purchases there, screamed BAO NHIEU at the girl and smiled at me. I'll have to get that guy a Christmas card this year.
The store also sells baseball-type caps with Hollister, Vans, Nike and such embroidered on them. I guess they're knock-offs, but some of them seem legit. Who knows and who cares? They're 30,000 Dong each (about $1.50), so I've bought about 25. They're always on a table outside the store so I don't have to deal with the clerks. I tried to give a couple to my son Alec when he visited, but he said he's not a cap guy. I'm not either, but I don't want my face fried by the sun here, so I cap out.
My right shoulder was bothering me a little this week, and I mentioned it to my massage girl Chi. Man, did she go to work on me, twisting my right arm, punching my shoulder, squeezing the hell out of my shoulder and arm, and cracking my elbow, wrist and fingers. Son of a gun, the shoulder is fine now. Chi can't be taller than 4-foot-eight, and she has the tiniest hands I've ever seen. But she's strong, gritty, and gives a great massage. No nonsense. She takes her job seriously and I really like her.
Classes are going well, but I do teach lots of little kids. In addition to English, I feel compelled to teach them not to curse, not to throw trash on the floor, how to say please, thank you, no thank you, sorry and excuse me, not to screw up their faces and say WHAT? when they don't understand something, not to wave their hand in a White Monkey's face to say no, not to cut in line, and to always allow ladies to go first. All that additional stuff is so much more challenging than the English because it goes against what these kids have seen and experienced most of their lives. We're making progress, although I admit that sometimes I get frustrated. But these are good kids and they want to do the right thing. They're learning. I'm not trying to change anyone's culture, but I want them to understand how successful they can be when they treat others with kindness and respect. These are lessons I wish I had more of -- or paid more attention to -- when I was a kid.
Friday, August 12, 2016
Eyes closed; bureaucrats; The Beatles
We took Joanna to a local photo shop to get her passport picture taken. But Joanna refused to wake up and open her eyes. No open eyes, no passport photo. We put ice on her feet and face to get her to wake up. She whined a little, but didn't open her eyes. I held her upside down, and she opened her eyes. But she closed them and went back to sleep the moment I held her right-side up. Amazing. Joanna slept through everything we tried, so we returned home. As soon as we got home, Joanna opened her eyes and stayed awake. Phuong snapped a quality photo with her phone and Phuong's mom took the phone to the photo shop. And got the wrong-sized pictures printed. They printed 1x2 for a Vietnamese passport. The U.S. passport size is 2x2. We paid extra for the correct size. That's typical. Everything related to documents, records and bureaucrats here has been, well, difficult and challenging.
We almost had Joanna's birth certificate last Tuesday, but there were a few problems. My name became Michael John Millman and Joanna became a boy and my U.S. zip code was close but not quite. And my street name was wrong. These were "copied" from a document we gave them. But the bureaucrat argued that my name was Millman John Michael on my passport so it should be blah blah blah. I won't even dignify that argument with an insult or explanation. The birth certificate was to be retyped Wednesday. When you haves tons of bureaucracy, you're going to have tons of mistakes. Guaranteed.
For example, we went back to the house of b-crats Wednesday to get the new birth certificate, but Phuong and her dad were told the person who fixes mistakes and retypes documents had to leave town. This same crap happened with our marriage license. So just like our marriage license, we have to wait another week to get a document that was promised to us but not delivered on the day it was promised. What did I say about bureaucracy?
I've lived here a little more than 3-and-a-half years, and I had my first street vendor donut last week. It was loaded with caramelized sugar and it was flat out good. There's a catch: This is the first time I've ever seen street donuts like these and odds are I won't see them again. I'll remain optimistic, try not to be Mr. Complain, and look for the donut lady from now on. But four other trips on the same street at the same time this week produced no donut lady ... or donuts. I did buy a sweet, greasy bread that wasn't bad, but it wasn't a donut, either.
Phuong's family had a wonderful get-together to celebrate Joanna's one-month birthday. We had a huge lunch of Vietnamese food, including lots of great chicken. A very nice gathering. Joanna slept through much of the lunch. She's relaxed ... what can I say?
There has been a reincarnation of The Beatles in our house, especially late at night. After my last class of the evening followed by dinner, Joanna will eat and get ready for bed. That's where The Beatles come in. I'll hold my daughter and dance to songs from Abbey Road, and after three or four songs, Golden Slumbers usually fill her eyes. I know she's too young to distinguish different groups and types and music, but she honest-to-god seems to relax to The Beatles. If Abbey Road doesn't do the trick, we'll keep on dancing through The White Album and finish with the song Good Night, which has become a household favorite. Phuong is even mildly impressed with how dancing to The Beatles seems to relax Joanna.
By the way, I'm one of those guys who still likes both The Beatles and The Rolling Stones. I don't have a favorite, although I'm a little partial to the Stones these days because they're still having children. I can relate
The folks on my walk are nicer and nicer to me. I buy a 6,000 dong raincoat each day from a shop owner who always points to the sky -- and laughs -- when she sees me. I get my 20,000 dong coffee that's awesome. I smile and chat with the Hu tieu girls. Some days I'll get duck, a real treat here. I shake hands with the car wash guys, who used to shout at me through my headphones. In a few months, Joanna will join me on the walk, making it even better.
I only taught one class a day this week, so life is pretty relaxed. My school has hired a bunch of younger types -- in their mid-20s, I would guess. An old White/Gray Monkey isn't a hot commodity here -- where the emphasis is on youth and good-looks -- but I still really enjoy the students, and I hope they tolerate me. I love teaching and I want to continue doing it indefinitely. We'll see what the future brings.
We almost had Joanna's birth certificate last Tuesday, but there were a few problems. My name became Michael John Millman and Joanna became a boy and my U.S. zip code was close but not quite. And my street name was wrong. These were "copied" from a document we gave them. But the bureaucrat argued that my name was Millman John Michael on my passport so it should be blah blah blah. I won't even dignify that argument with an insult or explanation. The birth certificate was to be retyped Wednesday. When you haves tons of bureaucracy, you're going to have tons of mistakes. Guaranteed.
For example, we went back to the house of b-crats Wednesday to get the new birth certificate, but Phuong and her dad were told the person who fixes mistakes and retypes documents had to leave town. This same crap happened with our marriage license. So just like our marriage license, we have to wait another week to get a document that was promised to us but not delivered on the day it was promised. What did I say about bureaucracy?
I've lived here a little more than 3-and-a-half years, and I had my first street vendor donut last week. It was loaded with caramelized sugar and it was flat out good. There's a catch: This is the first time I've ever seen street donuts like these and odds are I won't see them again. I'll remain optimistic, try not to be Mr. Complain, and look for the donut lady from now on. But four other trips on the same street at the same time this week produced no donut lady ... or donuts. I did buy a sweet, greasy bread that wasn't bad, but it wasn't a donut, either.
Phuong's family had a wonderful get-together to celebrate Joanna's one-month birthday. We had a huge lunch of Vietnamese food, including lots of great chicken. A very nice gathering. Joanna slept through much of the lunch. She's relaxed ... what can I say?
There has been a reincarnation of The Beatles in our house, especially late at night. After my last class of the evening followed by dinner, Joanna will eat and get ready for bed. That's where The Beatles come in. I'll hold my daughter and dance to songs from Abbey Road, and after three or four songs, Golden Slumbers usually fill her eyes. I know she's too young to distinguish different groups and types and music, but she honest-to-god seems to relax to The Beatles. If Abbey Road doesn't do the trick, we'll keep on dancing through The White Album and finish with the song Good Night, which has become a household favorite. Phuong is even mildly impressed with how dancing to The Beatles seems to relax Joanna.
By the way, I'm one of those guys who still likes both The Beatles and The Rolling Stones. I don't have a favorite, although I'm a little partial to the Stones these days because they're still having children. I can relate
The folks on my walk are nicer and nicer to me. I buy a 6,000 dong raincoat each day from a shop owner who always points to the sky -- and laughs -- when she sees me. I get my 20,000 dong coffee that's awesome. I smile and chat with the Hu tieu girls. Some days I'll get duck, a real treat here. I shake hands with the car wash guys, who used to shout at me through my headphones. In a few months, Joanna will join me on the walk, making it even better.
I only taught one class a day this week, so life is pretty relaxed. My school has hired a bunch of younger types -- in their mid-20s, I would guess. An old White/Gray Monkey isn't a hot commodity here -- where the emphasis is on youth and good-looks -- but I still really enjoy the students, and I hope they tolerate me. I love teaching and I want to continue doing it indefinitely. We'll see what the future brings.
Saturday, August 6, 2016
A walk on the not so wild side.
My daily walk through Bien Hoa, in addition to being good for my health, has become a great social outlet for me. My wife encourages the walk and my tai chi, which is just another reason I love her so much. I've met some nice coffee shop owners, waiters and waitresses on the walk. I've discovered a family restaurant near my coffee shop where the family grills chicken and pork in honey sauce. They're quite nice and their chicken and pork are delicious. I've met a family of five ladies -- mom and her daughters -- who make Hu Tui (or Tieu in the north), a noodles, pork, sprouts, onions and broth concoction that comes with really hot peppers. One of the girls speaks OK English and was showing me pictures of her American "friend", who's a doctor. I show them pictures of my wife and daughter and we try to chat in a combination of Vietnamese and English. Two of the daughters are twins and lament their freckles, telling me local men don't find them attractive. They're just fine, believe me. I bought a cool spatula in this little shop where they also train chefs in Korean cooking. I've gone to a couple of businesses where the prices seem to rise for the White Monkey. Instead of a discount, I qualify for the White Monkey miscount. Whatever. Vietnam calls itself a Capitalist Communist country, or something like that, so I sample the burgeoning free enterprise and shop where I want.
We made another trip to Ho Chi Minh City last week to complete paperwork to obtain our daughter Joanna's birth certificate, which we need with a bunch of other documents -- like our passports, marriage license, divorce decrees, social security card, driver's license, and my social security benefits statement from the U.S. government -- to apply for her U.S. citizenship. All the documents must be double-secret certified. Should be a snap, right? I have to prove I lived five consecutive years in the U.S. to get her application process going. That's why the social security document is so crucial. It proves I worked a lot of consecutive years in the U.S. Amazingly, the U.S. tracked me down in Bien Hoa at our house and gave me the exact document I needed when we apply for our daughter's citizenship. If only the folks here would get their act together and stop trying to frustrate the White Monkey, and allow me to do the best for my daughter.
Joanna will need a passport because I hope to take her and Phuong to the U.S. in November for Thanksgiving and Dec. 12, the world holiday and celebration that is my birthday. I joke, of course, because once you get passed a certain age -- for me it was 21 -- birthdays don't mean too much. But now that I'm in my 60s, birthdays are a little weird. They remind me of my mortality. No matter because paperwork, embassies and government officials will be the death of me anyway, since I apparently have nine lives on the motorbike. Phoung and I are hoping and praying we can come to the U.S. together for a month.
On a sad note, my big, black, mean, ornery cat named Kitty (like all my cats), that my friend Ron took care of for me, apparently died. Ron is one of the great people on planet Earth. He's smart, kind, generous to a fault, funny as hell, and great company. The exact opposite of my cat. Maybe that's why they hit it off.
My daughter Jessica, who is one of the brightest and most genuine women in the world, turns 33 on Aug. 8. And no matter how old she is, Jessica will always be my little girl. I know she might not want to read this sort of stuff, but I have so many wonderful memories of her growing up (the Bee Hive trail in Maine) and becoming an adult (a hard-fought college degree). I know I'm preoccupied these days with my newborn Joanna in Vietnam, as I should be, but Jessica was my first child and she's No. 1 for a reason. Sounds corny, but I love all my kids the same, regardless of past history, dramas, disappointments and triumphs. Jessica, Caroline, Jack, Alec and Joanna all bring something special to my life. I'm a natural cynic, and my sincere and always cheerful wife Phuong has nicknamed me "Mr. Complain," but I've been really fortunate and blessed to have such wonderful children. And I continue to be blessed.
We made another trip to Ho Chi Minh City last week to complete paperwork to obtain our daughter Joanna's birth certificate, which we need with a bunch of other documents -- like our passports, marriage license, divorce decrees, social security card, driver's license, and my social security benefits statement from the U.S. government -- to apply for her U.S. citizenship. All the documents must be double-secret certified. Should be a snap, right? I have to prove I lived five consecutive years in the U.S. to get her application process going. That's why the social security document is so crucial. It proves I worked a lot of consecutive years in the U.S. Amazingly, the U.S. tracked me down in Bien Hoa at our house and gave me the exact document I needed when we apply for our daughter's citizenship. If only the folks here would get their act together and stop trying to frustrate the White Monkey, and allow me to do the best for my daughter.
Joanna will need a passport because I hope to take her and Phuong to the U.S. in November for Thanksgiving and Dec. 12, the world holiday and celebration that is my birthday. I joke, of course, because once you get passed a certain age -- for me it was 21 -- birthdays don't mean too much. But now that I'm in my 60s, birthdays are a little weird. They remind me of my mortality. No matter because paperwork, embassies and government officials will be the death of me anyway, since I apparently have nine lives on the motorbike. Phoung and I are hoping and praying we can come to the U.S. together for a month.
On a sad note, my big, black, mean, ornery cat named Kitty (like all my cats), that my friend Ron took care of for me, apparently died. Ron is one of the great people on planet Earth. He's smart, kind, generous to a fault, funny as hell, and great company. The exact opposite of my cat. Maybe that's why they hit it off.
My daughter Jessica, who is one of the brightest and most genuine women in the world, turns 33 on Aug. 8. And no matter how old she is, Jessica will always be my little girl. I know she might not want to read this sort of stuff, but I have so many wonderful memories of her growing up (the Bee Hive trail in Maine) and becoming an adult (a hard-fought college degree). I know I'm preoccupied these days with my newborn Joanna in Vietnam, as I should be, but Jessica was my first child and she's No. 1 for a reason. Sounds corny, but I love all my kids the same, regardless of past history, dramas, disappointments and triumphs. Jessica, Caroline, Jack, Alec and Joanna all bring something special to my life. I'm a natural cynic, and my sincere and always cheerful wife Phuong has nicknamed me "Mr. Complain," but I've been really fortunate and blessed to have such wonderful children. And I continue to be blessed.
Saturday, July 30, 2016
New friends, Russian readers, Joanna turns 21
We celebrated our daughter's 21st birthday -- that's 21 days -- with several breastfeedings, intermittent sleep and a short trip outside. Joanna seemed to enjoy all of the festivities, especially the breastfeedings. But I'll say this about my daughter: She's very social. When we put her down to sleep in her crib and we leave the room, she'll start crying almost immediately. I'll return, pick her up, and put her down on the couch with mom and dad, and she'll go to sleep right away while Phuong and I watch CNN. It seems she wants to know people are nearby so she can relax and sleep. Maybe she'll be a people person. I'm the opposite. I scream when people are nearby. For the most part, I like being alone (except when I can be with Phuong and Joanna).
I may be less social than everyone else, but I've got lots of new friends in Bien Hoa these days, thanks to my daily walks through the city. All of the coffee shop waitresses, scrap collectors, lottery ticket sellers, security guards and street vendors have become the White Monkey's best buddies. Everybody needs friends, right?
The guy who sleeps in the park now wakes up and says hi to me, with a big smile, when I pass by. Welcome to my world. You're all invited, if you can get away.
Phuong, Joanna and I got away this past Thursday for a trip to Ho Chi Minh City. We had to go to the U.S. Embassy and get papers stamped -- and then go to a worthless agency about a mile away to get verification that those same papers were stamped at the U.S. Embassy -- so we can apply for Joanna's birth certificate in Bien Hoa. When we eventually get our daughter's birth certificate, then we can return to the U.S. Embassy in HCMC to apply for Joanna's U.S. citizenship. Other trips for her passport and social security card come later. I don't care. I'll get her U.S. citizenship no matter what -- regardless of the hassle, bureaucracy, inconvenience, money and bull$%&! Phuong supports me on this and has been an invaluable help. And Joanna charmed the bureaucrats so we had our initial document mailed to us. I think Joanna is great-luck charm.
Phuong is getting stronger every day, and she's started walking up and down the stairs a little. She did the wash and cooked dinner yesterday, and I couldn't be happier. No, I'm not happy because I can become lazy again. I'm happy because my incredible wife is getting her life back little by little. Phuong is so happy and so proud of Joanna. And now she's feeling good physically. It's wonderful to see and be a part of.
Joanna scored a trifecta Thursday and Friday: She pooped all over my legs, all over Phuong's arm, and all over Phuong's mom's dress. In every instance, she had a little poop first to lull all of us into a false sense of security, then came back with a big blast a couple of minutes later to catch us off-guard. Hilarious.
On my daily walk I wear headphones and blast my music. I've mentioned this before. This week as I walked past a car wash (I know. A car wash of all things... in Vietnam), one of the washers started repeatedly shouting "HELLO!" next to my head. He was being a smart-ass for his car wash buddies. I ignored him, waited, turned around, tip toed behind him and screamed HELLO in his ear as he walked away. The startled car washer jumped three feet in the air. He turned around and laughed and I laughed. I have another new buddy.
I have a deal at my massage parlor. Only this little girl named Chi gets to rub the White Monkey's head and shoulders. There's nothing sensual about this massage. Chi grinds on my shoulders and, as a result, a persistent pain in my right shoulder has gone away. I sleep on my right side, so I think that's the culprit. That, and the fact I'm an old White Monkey. Chi has fixed the shoulder, but she hasn't made me any younger. Actually, that's Phuong's job.
I exceeded 20,000 hits on my blog and I'm close to 21,000 already thanks to a surge in Russian readers. By the way, I don't agree with banning Russian athletes from the Olympics (because a lot of Russians read my blog). I also think that Barrack Obama is a great president, Hillary Clinton will be fine as president, and that Donald Trump is a conceited and scary guy. I saw him speak in person in Bakersfield and his favorite word was "I". Sorry, not sure how I got on these topics.
Finally, again and again I thank everyone for their "likes" and kind comments on Facebook and in emails directed toward my beautiful daughter. She would thank you herself, but she's breastfeeding at the moment.
I may be less social than everyone else, but I've got lots of new friends in Bien Hoa these days, thanks to my daily walks through the city. All of the coffee shop waitresses, scrap collectors, lottery ticket sellers, security guards and street vendors have become the White Monkey's best buddies. Everybody needs friends, right?
The guy who sleeps in the park now wakes up and says hi to me, with a big smile, when I pass by. Welcome to my world. You're all invited, if you can get away.
Phuong, Joanna and I got away this past Thursday for a trip to Ho Chi Minh City. We had to go to the U.S. Embassy and get papers stamped -- and then go to a worthless agency about a mile away to get verification that those same papers were stamped at the U.S. Embassy -- so we can apply for Joanna's birth certificate in Bien Hoa. When we eventually get our daughter's birth certificate, then we can return to the U.S. Embassy in HCMC to apply for Joanna's U.S. citizenship. Other trips for her passport and social security card come later. I don't care. I'll get her U.S. citizenship no matter what -- regardless of the hassle, bureaucracy, inconvenience, money and bull$%&! Phuong supports me on this and has been an invaluable help. And Joanna charmed the bureaucrats so we had our initial document mailed to us. I think Joanna is great-luck charm.
Phuong is getting stronger every day, and she's started walking up and down the stairs a little. She did the wash and cooked dinner yesterday, and I couldn't be happier. No, I'm not happy because I can become lazy again. I'm happy because my incredible wife is getting her life back little by little. Phuong is so happy and so proud of Joanna. And now she's feeling good physically. It's wonderful to see and be a part of.
Joanna scored a trifecta Thursday and Friday: She pooped all over my legs, all over Phuong's arm, and all over Phuong's mom's dress. In every instance, she had a little poop first to lull all of us into a false sense of security, then came back with a big blast a couple of minutes later to catch us off-guard. Hilarious.
On my daily walk I wear headphones and blast my music. I've mentioned this before. This week as I walked past a car wash (I know. A car wash of all things... in Vietnam), one of the washers started repeatedly shouting "HELLO!" next to my head. He was being a smart-ass for his car wash buddies. I ignored him, waited, turned around, tip toed behind him and screamed HELLO in his ear as he walked away. The startled car washer jumped three feet in the air. He turned around and laughed and I laughed. I have another new buddy.
I have a deal at my massage parlor. Only this little girl named Chi gets to rub the White Monkey's head and shoulders. There's nothing sensual about this massage. Chi grinds on my shoulders and, as a result, a persistent pain in my right shoulder has gone away. I sleep on my right side, so I think that's the culprit. That, and the fact I'm an old White Monkey. Chi has fixed the shoulder, but she hasn't made me any younger. Actually, that's Phuong's job.
I exceeded 20,000 hits on my blog and I'm close to 21,000 already thanks to a surge in Russian readers. By the way, I don't agree with banning Russian athletes from the Olympics (because a lot of Russians read my blog). I also think that Barrack Obama is a great president, Hillary Clinton will be fine as president, and that Donald Trump is a conceited and scary guy. I saw him speak in person in Bakersfield and his favorite word was "I". Sorry, not sure how I got on these topics.
Finally, again and again I thank everyone for their "likes" and kind comments on Facebook and in emails directed toward my beautiful daughter. She would thank you herself, but she's breastfeeding at the moment.
Sunday, July 24, 2016
The joys of fatherhood at 61
Being the 61-year-old father of a half American, half Vietnamese, beautiful newborn girl is both exhilarating and exhausting.
The exhilaration comes from seeing Joanna pucker her lips and stick out her tongue to breastfeed. Or it comes from watching her sleep and kick off every blanket and towel she's wrapped in. Yesterday, she grabbed her own hair so hard she started crying, and she wouldn't let go. I had to literally pry her fingers open to make her let go of her hair. Phuong was concerned and wanted to put gloves on Joanna , but I laughed and kept watching my daughter. I say no gloves or hat at this stage -- two weeks old -- because she spends almost all of her time in our second-floor bedroom with her mom. Joanna loves her daily bath, and she has already kicked off her little belly button cord somehow. She loves to kick and stretch, and thankfully all signs point to a normal and very healthy baby girl. I think back to my first two daughters and remember how fantastic it was seeing them grow, learn, and develop into wonderful women.
Now for the slightly exhausting parts of my new life. First of all, I'm 61. Just the thought makes me tired. And there's the lack of sleep caused by Joanna's demand for mom's milk. But this is to be expected. As for me not getting enough sleep, so what. I'll sleep when I die. I've returned to work, which is a little tiring, but almost all of the students have been extremely cool about the new addition to our family. Because Phuong had a C-section, her mobility is quite limited. This means I do all the cooking, laundry and cleaning. I'm in a good rhythm with all the chores, and I really enjoy cooking, although I sweat a lot in Vietnam's god-awful heat. But I've gotten creative with fish and pork and cooking with beer, as well as making different smoothies and ice drinks. The part that's most difficult about the cooking and chores is the stairs. The Vietnamese may be the stare masters, but I'm the real stair master. I estimate I go up and down our three flights of stairs about 12 to 15 times a day. Our washing machine is on the third floor. So is the printer for my school work. When I carry food to Phuong on the second floor, I inevitably forget something crucial, like chopsticks or a fork ... or the main course. But I'm excited to go up the stairs because I know I'll see Phuong and my daughter. I hate going down the stairs because it hurts my ankles and usually means I have to do the dishes. But maybe my fitness will improve a little.
Speaking of fitness, I still do my daily walk, and I've expanded it a little so I can buy milk from a store near my coffee shop. The park I often write about has gotten a little seedy -- no shock there. A guy was in the park training his chicken for chicken fighting; another guy sleeps there every day; and a group of guys play cards there daily. Now, I do my chi at home when there's time.
The great news, after Joanna, is that I'm still not smoking. I haven't had a cigarette in more than four months and I have no desire to start smoking again. Well, maybe when I'm 70.
The exhilaration comes from seeing Joanna pucker her lips and stick out her tongue to breastfeed. Or it comes from watching her sleep and kick off every blanket and towel she's wrapped in. Yesterday, she grabbed her own hair so hard she started crying, and she wouldn't let go. I had to literally pry her fingers open to make her let go of her hair. Phuong was concerned and wanted to put gloves on Joanna , but I laughed and kept watching my daughter. I say no gloves or hat at this stage -- two weeks old -- because she spends almost all of her time in our second-floor bedroom with her mom. Joanna loves her daily bath, and she has already kicked off her little belly button cord somehow. She loves to kick and stretch, and thankfully all signs point to a normal and very healthy baby girl. I think back to my first two daughters and remember how fantastic it was seeing them grow, learn, and develop into wonderful women.
Now for the slightly exhausting parts of my new life. First of all, I'm 61. Just the thought makes me tired. And there's the lack of sleep caused by Joanna's demand for mom's milk. But this is to be expected. As for me not getting enough sleep, so what. I'll sleep when I die. I've returned to work, which is a little tiring, but almost all of the students have been extremely cool about the new addition to our family. Because Phuong had a C-section, her mobility is quite limited. This means I do all the cooking, laundry and cleaning. I'm in a good rhythm with all the chores, and I really enjoy cooking, although I sweat a lot in Vietnam's god-awful heat. But I've gotten creative with fish and pork and cooking with beer, as well as making different smoothies and ice drinks. The part that's most difficult about the cooking and chores is the stairs. The Vietnamese may be the stare masters, but I'm the real stair master. I estimate I go up and down our three flights of stairs about 12 to 15 times a day. Our washing machine is on the third floor. So is the printer for my school work. When I carry food to Phuong on the second floor, I inevitably forget something crucial, like chopsticks or a fork ... or the main course. But I'm excited to go up the stairs because I know I'll see Phuong and my daughter. I hate going down the stairs because it hurts my ankles and usually means I have to do the dishes. But maybe my fitness will improve a little.
Speaking of fitness, I still do my daily walk, and I've expanded it a little so I can buy milk from a store near my coffee shop. The park I often write about has gotten a little seedy -- no shock there. A guy was in the park training his chicken for chicken fighting; another guy sleeps there every day; and a group of guys play cards there daily. Now, I do my chi at home when there's time.
The great news, after Joanna, is that I'm still not smoking. I haven't had a cigarette in more than four months and I have no desire to start smoking again. Well, maybe when I'm 70.
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