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.

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.

We have a baby girl: Joanna Pham Millman

The process was difficult. Phuong shared a bed with another pregnant woman. They were in a room with 38 other pregnant women and their families. Phuong's cervix didn't dilate in time despite a painful process to prepare her for a natural delivery. When doctors couldn't force the cervix open after her water broke, a caesarean section was performed.
Despite the difficulties and challenges, the end result was perfect. Phuong is OK and we have a healthy baby girl. Joanna Pham Millman was delivered at 6:20 p.m. on July 9. I found out by watching a TV screen, where new births would pop up and list mom, mom's age, baby's weight, time of birth, and baby's sex.
I wanted a girl and I got my wish. I have two daughters in the United States -- Jessica and Caroline -- and they're both talented, successful, kind and caring young women. I know Joanna will be the same.
Fathers aren't a big part of the birthing process in Vietnam. Phuong's mother was the primary caretaker, and I was asked -- make that told -- to leave the room when Phuong was being examined or cleaned. Nobody I had contact with could speak any significant English, including Phuong's mom. We checked in Thursday and the baby was delivered on Saturday evening. I never spoke or had any meaningful exchanges with a doctor or nurse the entire time. I saw Phuong for about 20 minutes Saturday morning before she was carted away. I never spoke with her or saw her through the decision-making (on the c-section) or birthing process.  I got to see the baby for five minutes about two hours after she was delivered, and then I was told to sign a paper and come back later. I got to bond with Joanna and see my wife the next day. The hospital wasn't overly friendly, but it's crazy busy because of its reputation for prenatal care. For me, Joanna and Phuong are beautiful and special, so I couldn't be happier.
Phuong is doing quite well, considering she had a major surgery (36 percent of births in Vietnam are by c-section, according to NBCNews.com). Phuong and Joanna have begun breastfeeding, and that provides its own challenges and frustrations. But I know Phuong and Joanna will persevere.
Nurses, family and friends say Joanna looks like me. Well, she can have some of my features, but I sure hope she doesn't LOOK LIKE ME. Babies change so much that it's hard for me to tell who they resemble. Health and happiness will mean a hell of a lot more than looks as Joanna gets older. I would prefer that she looks more like Phuong than the White Monkey, but again, as long as she's happy and healthy, life is wonderful.
Phuong says we now have a little diamond in our life. I already had a big diamond in my life with Phuong. I feel like a very rich man these days, and it has nothing to do with money.
I got to spend a little time in Ho Chi Minh City, and I didn't like it.  There are way too many motorbikes, way too many food stands on the sidewalks that force you to walk in the street and almost get hit by the way too many motorbikes, and way too many shady characters everywhere. I walked up to a coffee shop in the morning and before I could get inside a girl came striding toward me saying "No, no, no!" and giving me that god-forsaken hand wave in the face. As I walked away I saw that the coffee shop also had a "massage" parlor in the back and was packed with men, who I'm guessing were johns waiting for their tricks. One of the "johns" stared at me like he wanted to kill me. I don't think he's a real coffee lover.
One place I loved in HCMC was a French bakery next to our hospital. Tous les Jours had tremendous fresh baked pastries and a pretty good cappuccino. I went there two or three times a day.  Their smoothie machine was broken, but I haven't found a working smoothie machine in Vietnam yet. The staff at Tous les Jours did speak a little English, and were very friendly.  I highly recommend it.
Finally, I want to thank everyone who congratulated Phuong, Joanna and I on Facebook or by email. I'm happy to bring Joanna into a world that has so many kind and thoughtful people. Thanks again, everyone.

Baby deadline; tardy students; lotto ripoff

The doctor in Ho Chi Minh City gave Phuong a July 7 deadline for our baby. In other words, if Phuong doesn't go into labor before then, doctors will take steps on July 7 to induce labor and deliver our baby.  The baby weighs close to 8 pounds so the doctor doesn't think waiting much longer is a good idea. Phuong is calm and practical about everything. I'm a mess. I'm tense when I teach (sorry, kids), and wherever I go I wait for a phone call from Phuong. Of course, she doesn't call, so I'm even more tense and more of a mess.
Let's talk about something else ...
My students, who I really respect and enjoy, have taken tardiness to a whole new level, and it's not cool. I have anywhere from 10 to 16 students per class, and lately no more than two students show up on time for any of my classes. I wouldn't care so much -- they're wasting their time and money, not mine -- but the students stroll or strut or scurry into the room 5 to 10 to 15 to 20 minutes late, make a big deal of apologizing to me and interrupting my lesson, and finally sit down to talk with friends at an unacceptable volume level.  Sometimes, I stop teaching and tell the late chatterboxes that it's rude to talk when someone else is talking. So I suggest they share whatever they were blabbing with the class and I'll shut my pie hole to show respect to them.  I even offer to go home and let them teach the class since they love talking in front of the group. You see, the thing that really upsets me is that the late catwalk, followed by disrespectful chatting, happens around four times per class.  So if I teach 10 classes a week, I have to put up with 40 catwalks/chatwalks a week. Not cool. I had to deal with the same thing in Peru. But Peruvian students have been exposed to more English and American culture than students here so they knew to enter the room quietly when they were late. But Vietnamese students are very bright and willing to learn, so I'm sure they'll eventually learn to either show up on time for my classes or shut their pie holes when they enter my classroom late. After all, the two or sometimes three students who show up on time deserve to get a full 90-minute lesson from the White Monkey.  I may not be the greatest teacher, but I prepare (my wife will vouch for this) and try to do my best for the students.
Word on the street travels quickly in Bien Hoa, and that's not great news for me. I have been buying lotto tickets lately for Phuong, and the sellers must have spread the word because when I get coffee at my favorite cafe on a busy street corner, I deal with a parade of ticket sellers every day. I relented one day, and a woman stole 10,000 dong from me. How? Well, tickets are 10,000 dong each (about 50 cents) and I gave her 20,000. She basically refused to give me change after I took one ticket, so I told her to go home and keep the money to avoid a big scene. I'm sure she would have started arguing and I've learned after three motorbike accidents that I'm always wrong in Vietnam, even when I'm right. The lotto woman doesn't speak English, of course, but she understands theft in any language. My fault for engaging her in the first place. But many business people here don't think long-term. They would rather steal 50 cents from you today than keep you as steady customer for years to come. Maybe it's a "now  culture" thing and I just don't understand. Even some Vietnamese agree with me on this point, but they're more willing to accept this philosophy than I am. I really shouldn't care. I can just take my business to the folks who treat the White Monkey with respect.

Still waiting, Amway, sad kid

Phuong jokes that our baby is waiting for Wimbledon to really get under way before it's born. Right now, our baby is sticking with Phuong. Doctors extended the due date from July 4 to July 6, but I don't put much stock in their predictions. We'll just wait -- and as the Vietnamese say, waiting is happiness. (If waiting is happiness here, why does everybody cut in line?) Wimbledon started Monday, so I expect to see our baby real soon. I think of Phuong all the time and I want her to have the best experience possible delivering our baby.
My walk to and from my new favorite coffee shop has become a circuitous and complicated journey through Bien Hoa. All to avoid motorbikes on the sidewalks. But it's not really working. I go through the park, down a couple of alleys, along the railroad tracks, down on a side street, and on the main road for a short while. I'm not on the main road much because of the bikes, but I still manage to almost get hit a couple of times a day. I'm OK, though, because I've learned the art of defensive walking. Unbelievable! But this isn't a pedestrian-friendly town. In the White Monkey's view, there's a class system here: Car drivers think they are gods, motorbike riders are heroes, bicycle riders are mere mortals, and pedestrians either sell lottery tickets, or can't afford a car, motorbike or bicycle.
All that said, most people along my zig-zaging route recognize the crazy, singing, cane-carrying White Monkey. And they're very nice. Lots of smiles and nods from the locals make the walk pleasant, despite the motorbikes. I wear big headphones and listen to music when I walk -- I've gone through about five pairs of headphones this year -- so I don't have to tell people my name or where I'm from.
Part of my routine includes a stop at Hancook, a new Korean restaurant on the main street near the language center where I teach. The kim chi is very good, and there's a quality mushroom soup as well. In fact, all the food I've had there is good. Needless to say, I'm burned out on Vietnamese food, and I'm not that crazy about it in the first place, other than the chicken. Obviously, Phuong has slowed down a little on her cooking, I often work 5 p.m. to 9 p.m., so we cobble together meals from the Korean restaurant, a little home cooking, and Phuong's mom. We're eating well.
It's interesting, but the folks we've encountered who work for Amway here think they're super hot stuff. Really. They mock products not sold by Amway and warn that you're making a big mistake by buying whatever the hell you buy that's not Amway. Some Amway folks down the street had a huge party that closed part of  the street and included live music -- to celebrate their daughter's first birthday. Overall, our neighbors are OK. The ones that are weird, and that's just about all of them, keep to themselves. Our next-door neighbors have a six-year-old boy who screams and cries, and I mean screams and cries, about four hours a day. We'll hear him screaming and kicking the walls or whatever at 10:30 at night. God, I hope our kid isn't like this. I feel bad for the little boy. He seems bored in addition to unhappy, but Phuong and I have almost no interaction with this creepy family.
I'll see kids riding bikes alongside cars and motorbikes, and playing in the streets, but I'd like to see more parks and playgrounds here for kids and families to gather. It's a different culture from what I'm used to, and really, I have to remind myself of that quite often. I'm like everyone else: I think I know what's best for the world and everybody in it, and that my ideas are not only the best, but the only ones that matter. Maybe I should get a job with Amway.

No baby, trash hoagie, lipstick craze

The big news with our baby is no news … yet.  Phuong is huge and she gets an occasional contraction. But no signs of honest-to-God labor. The due date remains July 4, but doctors don’t expect the baby to wait that long.  Of course we’re anxious, hoping and praying for a safe delivery and healthy baby. No choice but to keep waiting.

I altered my walk route because motorbikes kept hitting me when I walked on the sidewalk. I was going to get into a fight and clobber somebody – or get clobbered – if I stayed the course on the sidewalk. Sad, but that’s how it is.  So now I walk along the railroad tracks. It’s trashy, but there’s a little bit more nature and green. There’s still a motorbike or two on the paths next to the tracks, but not like the sidewalks, where people suddenly pull in and park their motorbikes to patronize the shops.

 The other day during my walk, I saw something that shook me up. There was a man  ahead of me squatting next to the tracks and it looked like he was rummaging through some stuff. You see people looking for recyclables this way all the time. But when I got next to him I saw that he was filling a loaf of bread with discarded food that had been sitting next to the tracks. He was making a kind of trash hoagie that I assume he was going to eat.  It smelled rancid. Maybe I’m wrong, but countries like the United States and England seem to do a better job of hiding and segregating their poverty. In countries like Peru, Bolivia and Vietnam, the poverty is more visible, and is readily seen alongside the well-to-do.

It’s a fashion statement that’s blowin’ up in Bien Hoa. Young girls all over town, from ages 12 to 30, are wearing red lipstick. You betcha. Lipstick has come to Dong Nai province in Vietnam. I noticed my coffee shop girls wearing it. Staffers where I work are now wearing it. So are students. I even see random lottery girls and food stand girls wearing lipstick. This fashion “craze” has taken off in the past month or so. The girls aren’t shy with application. They’re still learning, I think. Personally, I’m not enamored with lipstick. In my opinion, Vietnamese girls are pretty and don’t need this kind of embellishment, but it’s not like I have a voice or say in the matter. People will do as they please, and if slopping red wax around your mouth makes you happy, then go for it. I wanted to get some pictures, but I couldn’t figure out how to get close-ups and not look perverted at the same time. I’ll work on it when I can.

I had more to write, but the internet is brutally slow so the blog stops here.

Park is the place for White Monkey

I spend more time in the park near our house because it's relatively clean (compared to the city) and there aren't many motorbikes, although an occasional duckface will race his motorbike on the park's concrete paths to get somewhere really important, like a coffee shop or video gaming room. I can do tai chi in the park, though, and passersby don't seem to really care. It reminds me of Hong Kong. The Vietnamese stare at me less in the park when I do tai chi than when I walk on the sidewalk to my new, favorite coffee shop. In the park, there are wedding photo shoots, which are rather pleasant, a few birds in the trees, and lots of butterflies. All of this is serenaded by unseen cicadas. The litter is minimal, and the park workers always smile or nod at me. All in all, a good scene. The canal near the park can smell sometimes, but since it's rainy season the water gets flushed out, so to speak. I'm mystified by the guys who fish in the canal. I don't think you can catch anything there except a serious skin rash. When I went to the park at dusk, I saw lots of birds zipping around the trees and canal while I worked out. Phuong was with me and said no big deal, they're bats.
An old friend Eric suggested I walk myself back to health after my two motorbike accidents. And he's absolutely right. Actually, I've been a walker for some time. I'm completely recovered from the motorbike accidents thanks to Phuong's massages with Chinese oil, walking, tai chi, and not smoking. Yes, I'm closing in on three months without a puff. Smashing your ribs and lungs on concrete is a drastic method for quitting, and I don't really recommend it, but whatever works.
Sadly, my walk is not a pleasant experience. A motorbike rider banged into my back (the fourth time this has happened) as I walked on the sidewalk near this craphole market next to the train tracks. No damage to me, but I was popped pretty good and stumbled a bit. The rider's reaction? He laughed at me. I approached this fishface with my cane in hand, ready to swat his ugly pug into next week. I showed restraint, however, and merely screamed curse words at him so loudly that the losers who work in the market gawked at me even more than usual. The guy rode away -- on the sidewalk. Three days later, I smacked a girl's bike with my new cane when she was about to hit me as I crossed the street with a pregnant lady (in a crosswalk). Really. The girl didn't make eye contact with me when I asked her "What's up, apeface?"
Speaking of pregnant ladies, my beautiful and lovely wife Phuong looks ready to give birth any moment. Phuong is incredible: 9 months pregnant and she's still cheerful and beautiful. The baby keeps moving, but it's obvious there isn't a lot of room for the baby to maneuver. We'll see elbows and knees and feet and hands move across Phuong's BIG belly.  And when I curse, which I do on occasion, Phuong tries to cover the baby's ears by putting her fingers on her stomach. You'd have to see it, but it's cute and quite funny.
The rainy season has cooled things off ever so slightly -- it's 92 or 93 every day instead of 97 or 98. But the humidity is brutal. I went into the staff room at my school and a Vietnamese staffer was tutoring a little Vietnamese girl.  I go in there to get my attendance folder for class and organize any papers I have for class. The Vietnamese staffer had the air conditioner on 32 degrees celcius, which is 89.6 degrees farenheit. That's warm in any culture. I prepared for class in the hallway, where it was probably a brisk 85. I understand it's all genetics, physical stature and such, and the heat doesn't bother these folks as much as the White Monkey.  But when a 210-pound White Monkey is wearing dress clothes and a tie and teaching in an 88- or 90-degree classroom, life becomes a sweaty mess. I don't do my best work. A student wearing a micro-miniskirt asked me why I was sweating in the 89-degree classroom when I was teaching. I responded: "Because I'm wearing clothes, I guess."
I included a few pictures of bikes cutting into oncoming traffic or riding against the grain to make a turn. Signals aren't necessary when riders pull this stunt. It's really shocking I've had accidents here, isn't it?
I've got some great kids and teen classes these days. For whatever reason, I relate to these guys. Maybe it's because they're young and their minds are open to new ideas, new ways of thinking, and new points of view. They get over their shyness pretty quickly and will try to speak English in class. I love that. Youth is great.