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.
Thursday, June 11, 2015
Sunday, May 24, 2015
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 13, 2015
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.
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.
Saturday, May 2, 2015
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.
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.
Monday, April 6, 2015
Blood on the street
Our neighborhood has been a little gritty lately. I woke up the other morning and Phuong's mom had poured sand across the sidewalk and street in front of our house. Apparently, there was a "domestic dispute" that got physical, with blood spilled in the street and on our sidewalk. Mom wanted to cover the blood. Why the combatants, rumored to be husband and wife, decided to bleed near our house is a mystery to me. Again, I don't understand. Honestly, I have no other details and don't really care. The White Monkey has his own problems. Later in the week, a guy on a motorbike ran into a 3-year-old girl on the street near our house, causing scrapes and scratches but no major damage. I was told the driver wasn't going very fast, and the little girl was running free in the street, until she got clocked. All is OK. A couple of days later, a guy who was rumored to have been consuming alcohol ran into a telephone-type pole in our 'hood. I was told he went to the hospital here, which I don't recommend unless you're unconscious. I've been there -- unconscious in Bien Hoa and in the hospital. Unconscious is OK but the hospital is iffy. Things have been quiet the past few days, so I'll hope for the best and expect the worst.
I have a suggestion for Vietnam in general and Bien Hoa in particular: Don't use so much plastic. All the little shops put everything in plastic bags. A pack of cigarettes. A box of cookies. Chips. Soda. Everything goes in a plastic bag. When Phuong and I take our nightly walk when I'm not teaching a late class, we see a lot of plastic bags and trash in the street. It seems unnecessary. Another suggestion: Don't let people burn their trash, especially old tires. There's nothing like riding the bike to work and going through a cloud of smoke created by burning rubber. The air in Bien Hoa is nothing to breathe heavily about even without the burning trash -- it's only slightly better than the air in Bakersfield. Recycling is slowly catching on here, but there's still a lot of work and educating to do. And the trash problem isn't just in Vietnam, by the way. It's everywhere I've been. Disappointing.
It's been nasty hot lately, which means temperatures here have been seasonal. It's in the mid-90s every day with humidity about 65 to 75 percent. I think that's why my cuts take so long to heal. I know that's why I have my souvenir (heat rash). I'm very grateful to Dr. Hyde in Yellow Springs for the prescription cream I have for the heat rash. All clear.
Phuong and I are really looking forward to our trip to Hong Kong in a few weeks. It should be fascinating and fun, and it means another stamp in Phuong's passport. Hopefully, that will make a difference when she applies again for a visa to the U.S. I have to go back home for eye work soon, and she really wants to be with me -- and meet my family and friends, see my house, and check out the vibe in Yellow Springs. We're very hopeful she gets approved this time.
When I check the numbers on my blog, I can see what countries my readers are from. I don't have a lot of readers, but the mix of countries is interesting. I was a little surprised to see readers from Kenya, Lebanon, Ukraine, Russia, Cyprus and Egypt. One week I had readers from six of the seven continents. No one in Antarctica reads my blog. I guess the folks there aren't bored enough. I get a few hits from Peru, which I still miss.
Nothing else exciting to report. Actually, none of this crap was exciting, but it's the best I could come up with. Classes are OK and Phuong and I are very, very happy with our life together. She beat me 6-3 in tennis last week and we tied 5-5 a couple of times. And I still love her.
I have a suggestion for Vietnam in general and Bien Hoa in particular: Don't use so much plastic. All the little shops put everything in plastic bags. A pack of cigarettes. A box of cookies. Chips. Soda. Everything goes in a plastic bag. When Phuong and I take our nightly walk when I'm not teaching a late class, we see a lot of plastic bags and trash in the street. It seems unnecessary. Another suggestion: Don't let people burn their trash, especially old tires. There's nothing like riding the bike to work and going through a cloud of smoke created by burning rubber. The air in Bien Hoa is nothing to breathe heavily about even without the burning trash -- it's only slightly better than the air in Bakersfield. Recycling is slowly catching on here, but there's still a lot of work and educating to do. And the trash problem isn't just in Vietnam, by the way. It's everywhere I've been. Disappointing.
It's been nasty hot lately, which means temperatures here have been seasonal. It's in the mid-90s every day with humidity about 65 to 75 percent. I think that's why my cuts take so long to heal. I know that's why I have my souvenir (heat rash). I'm very grateful to Dr. Hyde in Yellow Springs for the prescription cream I have for the heat rash. All clear.
Phuong and I are really looking forward to our trip to Hong Kong in a few weeks. It should be fascinating and fun, and it means another stamp in Phuong's passport. Hopefully, that will make a difference when she applies again for a visa to the U.S. I have to go back home for eye work soon, and she really wants to be with me -- and meet my family and friends, see my house, and check out the vibe in Yellow Springs. We're very hopeful she gets approved this time.
When I check the numbers on my blog, I can see what countries my readers are from. I don't have a lot of readers, but the mix of countries is interesting. I was a little surprised to see readers from Kenya, Lebanon, Ukraine, Russia, Cyprus and Egypt. One week I had readers from six of the seven continents. No one in Antarctica reads my blog. I guess the folks there aren't bored enough. I get a few hits from Peru, which I still miss.
Nothing else exciting to report. Actually, none of this crap was exciting, but it's the best I could come up with. Classes are OK and Phuong and I are very, very happy with our life together. She beat me 6-3 in tennis last week and we tied 5-5 a couple of times. And I still love her.
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
We have 2 motorbike accidents in one day
Phuong and I were involved in two motorbike accidents this past Tuesday. I was the driver, and of course, Phuong was the passenger. I am pleased to report neither of us were seriously injured and that neither accident was my fault. Both incidents occurred at traffic lights.
The first one happened after our morning tennis. We were going to get our post-match coffee to celebrate my courageous and hard-fought victory. We were stopping at a red light when a man with a woman on the back shot past me and tried to cut me off so he could be ahead of me rather than alongside of me at the light. Since there was only about a foot of space between my bike and some teenager's bike in front of me, the man's bike hit my front tire. The woman's unattractive legs took the brunt of the bump, and she glared at me. I told her in flawless, snarky English that her driver caused the little mishap, and that the White Monkey was innocent until proven guilty. She thought for a moment and seemed to agree, hitting the driver on the back. He laughed and shrugged at me. Off we went.
The second accident was more serious and could have been worse. A few hours later we were going to the supermarket. We were stopped at a red light and we were first in line. The light turned green, I started to go, and then some douchebag comes out of nowhere on the right and hits us. It's really weird because there was no reason for him to be heading in this direction. I suspect he was drunk -- after all, it was almost noon. Anyway, he knocked my bike over on top of me. Phuong brilliantly and instinctively rolled on the road and avoided any injury. I banged up my left arm and left knee (oh god, I hope my tennis game is OK) and my left mirror was knocked off. Very minor stuff. And the offending driver never stopped. He looked back at us on the ground and drove off. No one made a move to stop him as he got away. I'm told that's not done in Vietnam. In fact, the other bike riders acted pissed off that we were in their way and slowing down traffic as we got up off the ground. The attitude here seems to be (and the locals tell me this): Take care of yourself and screw the other guy. I see it on the bikes, in the stores, in coffee shop lines, everywhere. This country has been through a lot, so I sort of understand, even though everyone tells me: You don't understand. Honestly, the accidents didn't bother me as much as the people's attitudes about them. But I'm just a white monkey.
Phuong and I love our morning tennis, but the guys who play after us come while we're still on the court make a spectacle of themselves. They try to talk with Phuong during our matches. One guy circles the court while we're playing, swinging his arms like he's swinging a racket. Others talk really loud. Some eat and talk with their mouths full. After one of our matches, I put my open tea on a sink next to the court because there was nowhere else to put it. Immediately, one of the guys goes to the sink and starts spitting his mucous-filled saliva next to my tea. Shockingly, I left the tea there. Actually, some of the guys are wonderful so it's no big deal. But when I'm distracted, my tennis game slips. It's not good to begin with, so the commotion makes matters even worse. Whatever.
One more piece of cheerful news. It's 95 degrees every day, so my heat rash/souvenir has returned. I prepared this time, however, and brought medicine from the U.S.
Phuong and I are very happy together ... well, I'm very happy, and we're planning a trip to Hong Kong next month. School is OK, so other than psychotic motorbike drivers, of which there are many, and wacko tennis players, of which there are a few, life is wonderful. I can thank Phuong for that.
The first one happened after our morning tennis. We were going to get our post-match coffee to celebrate my courageous and hard-fought victory. We were stopping at a red light when a man with a woman on the back shot past me and tried to cut me off so he could be ahead of me rather than alongside of me at the light. Since there was only about a foot of space between my bike and some teenager's bike in front of me, the man's bike hit my front tire. The woman's unattractive legs took the brunt of the bump, and she glared at me. I told her in flawless, snarky English that her driver caused the little mishap, and that the White Monkey was innocent until proven guilty. She thought for a moment and seemed to agree, hitting the driver on the back. He laughed and shrugged at me. Off we went.
The second accident was more serious and could have been worse. A few hours later we were going to the supermarket. We were stopped at a red light and we were first in line. The light turned green, I started to go, and then some douchebag comes out of nowhere on the right and hits us. It's really weird because there was no reason for him to be heading in this direction. I suspect he was drunk -- after all, it was almost noon. Anyway, he knocked my bike over on top of me. Phuong brilliantly and instinctively rolled on the road and avoided any injury. I banged up my left arm and left knee (oh god, I hope my tennis game is OK) and my left mirror was knocked off. Very minor stuff. And the offending driver never stopped. He looked back at us on the ground and drove off. No one made a move to stop him as he got away. I'm told that's not done in Vietnam. In fact, the other bike riders acted pissed off that we were in their way and slowing down traffic as we got up off the ground. The attitude here seems to be (and the locals tell me this): Take care of yourself and screw the other guy. I see it on the bikes, in the stores, in coffee shop lines, everywhere. This country has been through a lot, so I sort of understand, even though everyone tells me: You don't understand. Honestly, the accidents didn't bother me as much as the people's attitudes about them. But I'm just a white monkey.
Phuong and I love our morning tennis, but the guys who play after us come while we're still on the court make a spectacle of themselves. They try to talk with Phuong during our matches. One guy circles the court while we're playing, swinging his arms like he's swinging a racket. Others talk really loud. Some eat and talk with their mouths full. After one of our matches, I put my open tea on a sink next to the court because there was nowhere else to put it. Immediately, one of the guys goes to the sink and starts spitting his mucous-filled saliva next to my tea. Shockingly, I left the tea there. Actually, some of the guys are wonderful so it's no big deal. But when I'm distracted, my tennis game slips. It's not good to begin with, so the commotion makes matters even worse. Whatever.
One more piece of cheerful news. It's 95 degrees every day, so my heat rash/souvenir has returned. I prepared this time, however, and brought medicine from the U.S.
Phuong and I are very happy together ... well, I'm very happy, and we're planning a trip to Hong Kong next month. School is OK, so other than psychotic motorbike drivers, of which there are many, and wacko tennis players, of which there are a few, life is wonderful. I can thank Phuong for that.
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Karaoke in your face (and ears)
Karaoke is HUGE here. Enormous. In fact, people in our neighborhood have
karaoke connected to their TVs and extremely loud sound systems. That
means you get the treat of hearing these guys, and it's mostly men sitting on the floor in their homes by themselves, singing Vietnamese classics that
can be heard for miles around until 10 at night. And if that's not enough, there are
coffee shops nearby where the singing can be heard over even greater
distances until 11. And there are karaoke studios (I guess that's what you'd call them) all over town. Wonderful. All Vietnamese believe they can sing very well ... and
every man believes he is a great lover. You decide what's true. Actually, the words to the hymns at mass are shown on TV screens all over the church, so karaoke is in our souls here as well.
Sunday church is always a wild ride. We go Sunday at 6:30 p.m. because I have to teach 3 to 5 p.m., so traffic is intense. Even more intense is the jockeying for parking behind the church. Bikes zip past you to get the "better" parking space and bikes cut in front of you as you're about to pull into a space. A guy almost broadsided (he came within inches) a girl last Sunday as she was turning right to park her bike. I had stopped because she was turning to park, and the guy passed me on the right and just missed her. He was holding a small child, by the way. We were 15 minutes early for the service at that time, so I didn't understand any of it. But then again, as the Vietnamese always tell me: You don't understand.
I do understand that the mix of more cars and boatloads of bikes isn't a particularly good one. The car drivers think they're still on a bike, so they cut in front, pull out, and lay on the horn. The bike riders say some curse words, some of which I've learned, at the car drivers. The car drivers can't hear over their horns. Since no one pays attention to traffic laws, it's quite dangerous and getting more so.
Back to mass. Our service is performed by a priest who has bad eyes. I think he has prescription sunglasses, which he wears during the service. I'm sympathetic because my eyes have issues as well. The alter boys come up and I think they whisper the words he's supposed to say. He plugs along and gets the job done. I like him, but I don't understand much of what he says.
One of the truly nice spots in Bien Hoa is Lido coffee shop not far from our house. Phuong and I usually go there after our 7 a.m. tennis. Lido is next to the Dong Nai River, so there's always a breeze. Boats go by, giving you something to look at, and half the time the people in the boats yell "hello." Sadly, all this is changing. Houses are being built between Lido and the river. Tons of dirt was (were?) brought in, shrinking the river's width and obscuring the wonderful view of the river. Heavy equipment has begun construction of the houses. Besides losing the nice view, it's noisy as hell. The one positive: Lido's coffee rocks whether you can see the river or not.
We had nice weather for about three weeks, but those days are gone. It's so hot, the students aren't complaining any more about air conditioning making it a chilly 89 degrees in the classroom. They just put on jackets when it gets below 90.
I've always enjoyed the students here, and now they're even more enjoyable since they've come back to school from the Tet holiday. Not sure why, but I'm not complaining. Maybe it's their new year's resolution not to make teacher John's life difficult. I approve.
Sunday church is always a wild ride. We go Sunday at 6:30 p.m. because I have to teach 3 to 5 p.m., so traffic is intense. Even more intense is the jockeying for parking behind the church. Bikes zip past you to get the "better" parking space and bikes cut in front of you as you're about to pull into a space. A guy almost broadsided (he came within inches) a girl last Sunday as she was turning right to park her bike. I had stopped because she was turning to park, and the guy passed me on the right and just missed her. He was holding a small child, by the way. We were 15 minutes early for the service at that time, so I didn't understand any of it. But then again, as the Vietnamese always tell me: You don't understand.
I do understand that the mix of more cars and boatloads of bikes isn't a particularly good one. The car drivers think they're still on a bike, so they cut in front, pull out, and lay on the horn. The bike riders say some curse words, some of which I've learned, at the car drivers. The car drivers can't hear over their horns. Since no one pays attention to traffic laws, it's quite dangerous and getting more so.
Back to mass. Our service is performed by a priest who has bad eyes. I think he has prescription sunglasses, which he wears during the service. I'm sympathetic because my eyes have issues as well. The alter boys come up and I think they whisper the words he's supposed to say. He plugs along and gets the job done. I like him, but I don't understand much of what he says.
One of the truly nice spots in Bien Hoa is Lido coffee shop not far from our house. Phuong and I usually go there after our 7 a.m. tennis. Lido is next to the Dong Nai River, so there's always a breeze. Boats go by, giving you something to look at, and half the time the people in the boats yell "hello." Sadly, all this is changing. Houses are being built between Lido and the river. Tons of dirt was (were?) brought in, shrinking the river's width and obscuring the wonderful view of the river. Heavy equipment has begun construction of the houses. Besides losing the nice view, it's noisy as hell. The one positive: Lido's coffee rocks whether you can see the river or not.
We had nice weather for about three weeks, but those days are gone. It's so hot, the students aren't complaining any more about air conditioning making it a chilly 89 degrees in the classroom. They just put on jackets when it gets below 90.
I've always enjoyed the students here, and now they're even more enjoyable since they've come back to school from the Tet holiday. Not sure why, but I'm not complaining. Maybe it's their new year's resolution not to make teacher John's life difficult. I approve.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)