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Gotta run!

Yesterday, I woke up with a disturbing sensation in my belly. It appeared that the guy who cooked my dinner the previous night forgot to wash the feces off his thumb after he took a shit. I have forgiven him for that because well, shit happens. And unfortunately sometimes, it keeps happening and happening and happening. I'm tired of this shit, let me tell you. But one day, when the water runs dry, the dam will be rebuilt.

I've tried almost everything at this point. I got some Western meds at the pharmacy yesterday afternoon after telling everyone I had diarrhea. That was pleasant. The three girls smiled and asked for my phone number simultaneously. I told them I was busy that night, I had a date with John. And tonight, well I have a date with Loo. They'll have to wait in line, but I might be in there a while.

The Western meds, Imodium and Pepto Bismol, have not yet taken their effect. Usually, Imodium creates a fist out of your rectum and you're unable to shit for days. Pardon me for the unpleasantries, but it must be said. I can't tell you why. I'm happy that I'm not a tight asshole, just the same, normal one you've come to know and love over these years. And the Pepto, what the hell? Come on you guys...

Now, I'm taking this Dragon Elixir, a natural Vietnamese medicine that has also yet to take full effect. I dig its natural origins, but they mean nothing to me if they can't stop or at least slow the flow. Come on, dragons are supposed to be strong! I've also eaten nothing but bread and gatorade today. Isn't that supposed to be good?

I know bananas are supposed to be a natural remedy as well, but I hate bananas. I'd rather suffer the 'rhea. Oh, and I just rubbed some medicinal oil on my belly. That's supposed to have some kind of effect too, but I'm not sure what it does other than give me that warm, burning feeling. I might explode at any minute!

Well, at least it's not painful. I'm getting a kick out of telling people I have 'tieu chay' - it's much better than saying diarrhea. I hate that. But the problem is I have to go to work and well, having this issue presents some problems. So, I will double up the underwear again today just in case because you never know. You don't! I'll relish the freedom of the boxers again when my worries subside.

I'm now down to 80kg, which is 176 pounds. I think that's my lowest since high school. Probably mostly water. Don't worry about me, this will be reconciled soon I believe. And I'll gain back those kilos. Talk to you soon. Thanks for your concern.

Crazy folk

Maybe this will be my last blog ever. You never know. I don't have much to say these days, but this one is too good not to put fingers to keyboard. I was on my way to my Vietnamese class this morning when this girl began talking to me. She immediately wanted to befriend me, to teach me Vietnamese. This has happened before. More likely scenario is she wanted a chance to practice her English.

Here's the problem - it's not a fair trade. Everyone offers this exchange of languages. I mean a private English tutor in Vietnam will run you anywhere from $15-35 an hour. A private Vietnamese tutor? I have no idea, but a friend back-in-the-day offered to teach me for $2 an hour. And I know where to find a quality language instructor for $10 an hour.

It's not about the money or who's getting the better deal. I could care less as long as equal time was set aside for both parties. Cause I do want to learn Vietnamese - despite it's lack of utility on a global scale. But, remind me where I am again?

Anyway, here are the details from our corresponding text messaging bonanza:

When i know you are here to learn VNese. I was so happy. This is the first time i've done sth like this. Don't be afraid of me, please. Can you answer me back in VNese? Hihi.. Talk to me everything you want. I'm really a good teacher. You'll see. It'll not waste your time at all, Tyler. Nice to meet you.

I can't remember what I wrote. It was so long ago. About two and a half hours ago now. I said something like Hi, it was nice to meet u too. I'm not afraid of u, don't worry about that. First time u've done something like this? Haha, i'm not sure about that. Have a good day.

Hihi.. I did it so good, right? Haha.. Whatever.. I just want to make friend with you.. Hope to see you again soon, Tyler.

You have a lot of VNese friends, so you feel nothing. But you r the most special friend i've ever have. I don't know how i did it? What make me so brave? Now, i feel so excited so that i can't take an afternoon naps as usual. Hihi.. Very very nice to meet you, my friend Tyler.

I'm the most SPECIAL friend u have? Haha! Yeah, i think u are skilled at what u did... What about ur teacher, u have his number too? Hehe

No, David is a teacher, not a friend. I can ask him about the lessons but I can talk to him so much. He has a lot of students, so he has no time.

David advised me to get a friend like you. I was trying to think how, and then i met you. Thanks God for bring you to me.

But Tyler, what do you think about me? about my purposes? Why you ask me like that? You make me sad. If you don't want to be my friend, it's ok.

I don't know anything about u and ur purposes. U seem like a very nice person, but maybe a little too forward? I cannot respond to so many messages. Maybe we will be friends, i don't know. Don't be sad about what i ask u, i'm trying to figure u out. It's a little strange. And since i'm not religious, i wouldn't thank god or anyone, i'd say it was coincidence.

I'm sorry to disturb you. Maybe i was so eager and it made you think wrong about me. Carefulness is never unnecessary. Enjoy your time when you r in Vietnam.

Listen...did not disturb me. Makes me a little wary...who is this girl i'm thinking? U don't need to write me a novel for a text message, it's a little frightening. I don't mean to offend u, if something happens, it happens. Don't rush it so much

Yes, Tyler. Thanks for your advices. If i have a chance to meet you (or s.o who is a foreigner) again, i will start in a different way. Now, i have to get back to work. You can go to my bank at...whenever you want, except mornings. In the mornings i'm in VUS school. I AM not a bad girl.

Get angry

Today, we reviewed some emotions that the students learned last week. I asked if anyone could volunteer and "get angry." This kid did it so well, I had to take his picture. His enthusiasm was appreciated.

Đậu Hũ

This is what the tofu lady sells: đậu hũ. For about 3,000 dong you can get your hands on a cup of warm tofu, drizzled in a sweet gingery syrup, topped with coconut cream and infused with phytates. I usually hear her moaning away in the morning. Where is she now? Where is she when I really need her?

Alley cats

Click on image to be enlightened

Anh Buồn

Anh Buồn means "I'm sad." Why am I sad? Thanks for asking. I'm sad because lately I've had too much downtime. Too much time to reflect on my life. Clearly, I can quickly remedy this situation by working more and busying myself with random affairs, but that would be just brushing it under the rug.

I haven't felt this depressed since my early days in Vietnam. When I wondered if I should stay or go. Since then, I've been fairly busy with school, teaching and just hanging out with friends. And not worrying about too much because well, there wasn't a lot of time for that.

Now, this week, I'm changing my schedule. So, I have fewer classes for the time being. In addition to this, three friends have hit the high road and left Vietnam. One of them, my buddy Reuben from Australia, was my partner in crime on Monday nights. We'd go out after work and explore different restaurants and bars.

In the past, I found I really enjoyed my alone time. More recently, I am discovering I want to be around people. I still know, however, when I'm done, I'm done. I need to be removed from my immediate surroundings at once and be placed in bed or be allowed to vegetate in front of my computer.

So, what is my problem? Well, I don't have a lot of friends. Story of my life I think. I seem to know everyone, but am close friends with few. I don't know why this is. Either I am afraid to open up, am unwilling to open up or other people are at fault for those same reasons.

I certainly don't mind eating a meal by myself. Or having a beer by myself on occasion. But I find I do this far too frequently. I want to share more moments. Not every moment, I have to ease into it, but I certainly could stand to be a bit more social.

Loneliness is an interesting thing. It's up to the loner to change the situation I guess. And branch out and put yourself out on a limb. But in my old age, I find it even more difficult to find people whose company I enjoy. And so, more often that I should, I opt to be alone.

I'm also finding I'm tired of sleeping alone and showering alone and motorbiking alone. Time to find a blow up doll or at least a big pillow. Seriously though, I could use some company. I could use a mate from both sexes. I know life is meant to be shared and I'm tired of hogging all the covers.

It's official

Well, I am now the proud owner of a Vietnamese bằng lái xe. That means driver's license. It's an enormous piece of plastic to be carrying around in one's wallet. I'm just glad it's over because it took far too much effort on my part. Once I got started and invested both time and money, I had to see this through to the end. If I knew what I was getting into, I never would have bothered in the first place.

But now that I have it, I suppose I'm happy I went through all the rigmarole. Now, when I get into my next accident, I won't be automatically at fault just because I'm a foreigner and driving illegally. Not that that is the reason I got it. I don't really know why I got it. Just because I guess. Why not?

Traffic jelly

This evening, I experienced the worst traffic I have yet to experience here in Vietnam. It was ridiculous. Stop, go, stop, go, inhaling more exhaust than I'd inhale in a month back home. Going around the traffic circles was insane because every entrance was jammed full of people. As soon as a gap opened up in front of you, you HAD to lurch into it. Or you'd be left behind.

So after numerous lurches, a couple love taps on other people's fenders and rubbing my wheel all over someone else's, I finally made it to school in the spitting rain and lung-blackening fumes. It was fun though. Fun to run red lights with everyone else, fun to mutter what the fuck with everyone else and fun to just be a part of the madness.

People are insane here. It's just a fact of life. And you notice the insanity even more when everyone is jammed together like that. Like the guy who drove his 4-wheeled bicycle through a red light and made everyone else stop for him. When he made it through he turned around and laughed at his buddy who had intelligently stayed behind.

Or to see motorbikes coming at you in the wrong lane of traffic between you and a bus going in the right way. Just veer to the side. It's normal. But it was nice to see this lady stick out her tongue in slight recognition of the absurdity of it all as she tried to make her way to the appropriate lane. It made me realize that I'm not the only one out there who is shaking his head and laughing all the way to work.

I live next to a freeway

At first, I thought it was great to be tucked away down an alley somewhere in the middle of District 3 surrounded by throngs of locals. I suppose anywhere you go in this country you are going to be the midst of many. There is no escaping that and I'm not saying that is a bad thing. Just to clarify.

I have a nice balcony overlooking the alley below and I thought it would be nice to sit there on occasion and watch the action. Now, I realize this "alley" is actually a major artery connecting two busy streets and so it is often jammed with people in a hurry, also known as assholes.

I move over to the side to let the person coming at me pass me easily. But the dumb fuck behind me honks at me and goes instead. This has happened a lot already. A lot of dumb inconsiderate fucks. There is way too much horn blowing around here. They are used way too often.

I mean, seriously, imagine hearing one of these prepubescent squeaks of masculinity all the time. Well, at least I don't hear them from midnight to about six in the morning. But at six, the fun begins again as do the dogs and it's only wishful thinking that keeps me in bed until I rise.

I'm hoping I'll get used to it. Or maybe I'll start working in the mornings. What do you do if you can't beat 'em? You join 'em. I wish I could beat 'em though. With a stick. A long, hard, knobby stick with thorns at the end. Then I'd be laughing well into my dreams.

But the more likely scenario is this. Overrun with sleep deprivation in a state of delirium, I will jump off the balcony onto a honking motorist, a barking dog and a crying baby and put us all out of our misery. Or maybe I'll start wearing ear plugs again. Or I'll find some sleeping pills.

Fun with the webcam

The nose knows

Hey, I have a question for you. Do I have a big nose? Cause the other day in class, while playing change chairs, one of my students said "Change chairs if you have a long nose" and then he stared at me. Thanks buddy!

And then on this game show, the makeup lady said she needed to do something with my nose to tame it down a touch. Apparently, it was stealing all the attention. You say damn! I say, don't be jealous.

I'm going to be on TV

Coming soon to Vietnamese television: me looking like a fucking ass. Yeah, I signed up for it so I can't complain, but I will bitch about my day and the people associated with this stupid fucking game show. I would be less irritable if I had won the contest and felt that the judging wasn't biased and that the game wasn't seemingly rigged from the beginning.

Whatever, I'm just blowing off steam. I still won some money, 2 million dong to be precise, but in the moment I wanted to piss on that money and/or wipe my ass with it. But that would have been hugely disrespectful considering that most Vietnamese don't make that much money in a month. It is about $120. It wasn't so much the money, it was losing that gets me.

I don't feel like I lost. This show was all about embarrassing two foreigners willing to try and speak Vietnamese. I know I'm not good, but if I'm worse than this girl, put a fork in me, I'm done. It really deflates my confidence. Not only that, but I think the female judge that gave me the low score had it out for me. The bitch. I wish I could have stomped on her face.

I really am a poor loser. When all was said and done and they announced the winners, I couldn't even fake a smile. They gave us the statues, pictured here, and I almost snapped the fucking head off. I kind of wish I did even though I respect the handiwork involved to create the thing in the first place. It would have been a show of my utter lack of appreciation of being on the show.

They asked us for our comments on camera after the announcement of the winner. I could barely manage anything positive. Since the air was so full of bullshit, I added a little bit more, but with a straight face and stopped short of saying I had a mind-blowing experience. I can't wait to see myself on tv looking like a fucking idiot. It's too bad the viewers won't see all the clowns involved.

Yay, look at my fucking trophy! Yeah, I'm bitter.

Please Mr Policeman

Well, so much for the myth that the police don't bother with foreigners. Myths are meant to be dispelled anyway and now that I've dispelled this one, maybe I'll chill out a little. Maybe.

It was a long day. It was spitting with rain. It was about 9:15pm. I was anxious to get home and eat the street food that I had in plastic baggies hanging off the hooks of my motorbike.

I was on the home stretch and I was tired of sitting in second gear behind all these slow pokes. So, I gunned it from gear to gear in the lefthand lane designated for four-wheeled vehicles.

Then this guy with a baton blows his whistle and waves me to the side. Aww, shit. He points to the speedometer and writes 30USD on his palm. I laugh at his suggestion. And I pretend like I don't understand.

Although it is clear that he wants some money. Fortunately, I only had about 130,000 dong, or about $8, in my wallet. So I took out two 50,000 notes and showed him my near empty wallet.

He accepted the 100,000, waved me on and the eyes in the back of my head saw him put the money in his wallet. Tyler, slow down.

One month later

Well, here I am a month later after my accident. It's actually been five weeks, but who's counting? My leg has healed and almost everything is back to normal. There is only a small pain in my right thumb like it has been slightly jammed. Overall, I am happy with the way things have turned out.

Now, I have a nice manly pink scar on my leg. I'm actually trying to reduce its size and color by applying saffron root, which gives it a nice orange hue and makes it stand out even more now, but less later. We'll see about that. In the meantime, I'm driving a little slower and stopping to smell a few more flowers along the way.

Almost licensed

Today was my driver's test. I fortunately didn't have to take the written test. That would have been a disaster. Instead, I had my Oregon driver's license translated to Vietnamese and apparently that sufficed. But since I am only licensed to drive an automobile, I had to take the driver's test to be properly licensed to drive a motorbike, even though I've been driving one for the past five months.

I know how to drive a motorbike, despite already having had two accidents. I'm far more conscious than most of the people I see blindly entering roads with their whole family in tow. These instances still don't cease to amaze me as I mutter under my breath and swerve to avoid them nearly going under the wheel of a much larger vehicle or running into another family of four.

So, anyway, like I was saying, I'm pretty comfortable on the bike. But all of a sudden, I have to take this test in front of at least a 100 mostly Vietnamese onlookers and other test-takers. And it's blazing hot at only 9am and I'm starting to feel nervous. They have this whole track set up and you have to drive it staying within the lines and without putting your feet down.

I didn't put my feet down, but I lurched and wobbled around the figure eight in first gear, made it out of that sweating bullets, dropped it into a much more manageable second gear, gunned it through the straight away, made the tight turn into the left, right, left weaving section, made another tight turn and then semi-gunned it through a straight away with speed bumps. Done. Finished. Take that.

I didn't know if I passed cause my performance in the figure eight was a tad pathetic. But I did and I will be the proud owner of a new Vietnam Driver's License in 10 days time. To celebrate, I will buy a new helmet and a new wallet. A larger wallet is needed to properly accommodate the over-sized licenses they have here. Good thing the wallet I have now is in need of replacement.

Laundry

What?! I have to do my own laundry? Nobody told me...this is bullshit! Yes, for the first time in over nine months, I have done a load of laundry. And it was quite painless. And the clothes will be dry soon cause it is fucking hot, as usual. Unless it rains - that is always funny. Seeing all these faces popping out of windows to pull in the laundry before it gets just as wet as it was before.

It's actually a good thing I'm doing my own laundry, well I think. Now I can control what my clothes will smell like. The last place really overdid the floral essences. And the little tags they put on each item of clothing were quite annoying. I'd realize I hadn't found all of them when my armpit would begin to itch in the middle of class. But now I have to iron and that kind of sucks. Where's a girlfriend when you need one?

The new pad

This is the view from my balcony. Nothing glamorous, just overlooks an alley and my neighbor's laundry. I'm happy to have a balcony though. It makes my small living space more tolerable. And it sounds cool to say you have a balcony.
This is my bedroom. I'd say it's a little on the small side, but at least my new mattress doesn't sag in the middle. And there aren't any ants on my toothbrush. And I have a ceiling fan that doesn't squeak. And I have fast internet connection. And the air is not nearly as stifling as inside my old room.

I do kind of miss the prostitutes coming in and out of my old place. It added a little something. However, on the whole, I am more comfortable here and that's what matters. We have a housekeeper that comes three times a week, we can come and go as we please and we're more immersed into real Vietnamese living.

Farewell

Goodbye District 1. You were still enjoyable even til the day we parted ways. But this moment was inevitable. I longed to be away from you from the beginning. I will miss many things about you, but I promise I will visit, whether passing through or visiting one of my old haunts. I will see you soon.

Last Sunday, I finally made the move to District 3. It does border district 1, but I am a good 10 minute drive away from the area I know well. This is good. I need to experience new things. I will miss the view from my old guest house and the occasional sunset I was fortunate enough to see.

Thursday afternoon

It is 3:44pm on Thursday. I am sweaty and in need of a pee. I have to "teach" at 5:45 this evening until 9. This school is a joke and I'm tired of it. I'm a joke too since I work there. I can forsee this coming to an end.

I normally have two students in this speaking class and they can barely speak. Tonight, I have been foretold they will not be there. That's fine. I hope nobody else shows up. So I can sit there and do nothing. And get paid all the same.

My second class is just as terrible. I basically act as a moderator for in-class discussions. I always wonder what I'm doing there. I think I will drop these Tuesday and Thursday nightmares and move on. I will try to act on this desire tonight.

Then I will be left with two schools. And that is plenty as it is. And I can play with my schedule to maximize sanity retention. Because lately I haven't been good at that. And now, I will go take a nap and then a shower before heading off to "school".

Moving day is almost here!

I have been at my current abode for about two and a half months. Way longer than I originally anticipated. I was the one of all of my friends who said they wanted to get the hell out of district 1 and more off the beaten track, at least as far as foreigners are concerned. Yet here I still am. It hasn't been all that bad here. Quite comfortable actually, but I am ready to move on.

Next week is the week of weeks. I am moving into a 5-bedroom house and including myself, there will be five of us plus any significant others or prostitutes that the others may bring home. I will have my own bedroom, bathroom and balcony for a mere $130 a month not to mention use of the "kitchen" and "living room" downstairs and the rooftop terrace.

And we will have Internet, a washing machine and maid service. Very desirable amenitites in any new home. It is also quite centrally located, smack dab in the middle of the city, closer to one of my schools, farther from two of them, but closer to two other branches of one of the aforementioned farther schools and also closer to my Vietnamese lessons. In fact, within walking distance. A hop, skip and a jump away.

I will miss the view from my balcony where I presently reside. And watching the rain pour down from a ways away. I will miss the fruit lady. The omelet lady. The bubble tea ladies. The conical hat wearing girl who is always toiling away at her trusty sewing machine. I almost want to rip something just so she can overcharge me and put a little more dong in her pocket. But my guess is that she's honest.

There will be new folks in my new neighborhood. New noodle stands, new fruit ladies, new neighbors and new experiences. And I will be more settled, at least I hope, and less of a vagabond. I might actually unpack my suitcase. And I might get rid of some shit before I move to limit myself to only the essentials. Less than a week to go and I cannot wait. Get me outta here!

The big 200

This is my 200th post
And that is no boast

I have nothing to say
I'm just here today

I feel quite retarded
Somebody farted

Nothing will come
I feel quite dumb

Something is amiss
So I write stupid shit like this

You fool!

A few months ago, I bought a laptop. This heap of steaming shit sitting before me now. It came with free pirated software such as Windows Vista, Microsoft Office and Powerpoint. I thought, hey what a deal. And then, recently, somehow Microsoft recognized my Windows as not being genuine. I guess I shouldn't have been downloading those automatic updates. But they didn't tell me that, not that I would have understood if they did.

So, today, I went to get another copy of Windows. No, not a genuine copy. Why would I do that? I took it to this place and they copied all the important data before reinstalling the software. Only the fool didn't copy all the data! The bastard omitted the most important folder, my pictures, and now I am without an original from the last seven plus months. Since I didn't double check what data he had copied, I suppose I'm the real fool.

Love/Hate

Things I hate, in no particular order:
(this list could go on forever)

-The smell of sewage in my bedroom
-Ants on my toothbrush
-A bag of chom choms mostly infested with worms
-Someone cutting me off in the rain
-Smug teenagers
-My laptop
-The smell of fish sauce
-The smell of durian
-Slow internet connections
-Warm beer

Things I love:

-The wind in my face as I blast around on a motorbike
-Cute kids
-People who smile
-The ice cold watermelon I get almost every morning
-Bubble tea
-A well-deserved cold beer
-Exploring new places in Saigon
-Vegetarian curry at Ngoc Tho restaurant
-The sound of the rain (when it's warm out)
-Fresh coconuts, everywhere!
-Beautiful women, everywhere!
-Fast internet connections

The list goes on!

Headache

I have a headache. A minor one at that, but it's still there pressing the inner contents of my cranium against my skull. Or that's how it feels. I'm hoping this 7up and eggplant, tofu, onions and rice helps it go away. Or at least hope to have the pressure go somewhere else to alleviate the current symptoms. My belly can handle it.

I think it's come forth this evening as I embark one of my more difficult teaching weeks. 10 hours awaits me tomorrow. But it's not even that I am worried about. It's the new classes I have on Sunday morning and the prep work I have to do sometime between 11pm tomorrow and 8am the next morning so I don't look like an ass. And even if I don't look like one, feeling like one is all the same to me.

And after Sunday, normally it is a piece of cake. But I have taken on more hours at a another school. A test, if you will, to see if I like working during the day as opposed to the evenings. So, add 15 hours to a 25 hour work week and what the hell am I thinking? I hate 40 hour work weeks! Why did I do this!?

Hopefully it will only be one week. And if I like it, I can drop some of my evening hours and slowly move away from getting off work at 9pm and having dinner around 10. As much as it works for me now, I don't feel like doing this forever. And as much as I hate getting up for school in the morning, at least it's 9am and not 8. So, here we go. And as for the headache, please go as well!

The healing process

I've been really good about trying not to pick my scabs, but it's impossible. I need to cut my fingernails. Maybe that will help. But I cannot control everything. Like when I got my shorts caught on my scab prematurely lifting a significant portion of it away from my skin. Oww!

Ummm...for your viewing displeasure.

Learning vietnamese

I know I'm improving. It is a very slow process, but I can identify more words with each passing day. My pronunciation, on the other hand, is a different story.

The other day, I pulled into the gas station and asked for 80,000 dong. She stopped filling up at 50,000. Tám and năm do sound similar. So I said, no, tám mươi. But I missed the mark again because she filled me up to 100,000.

The frustration runs deep. Good times.

Wet

Wow, I had this amazing story about my experience driving in the flood last week, but it wasn't meant to be. My touchpad has a mind of its own and decided it didn't like what I wrote. And everything was instantly deleted before blogger had a chance to automatically save it. Ah well, fuck it. You just get the video. And I get to curse and lament my decision to choose this laptop in the first place. Sigh...

The BIG toe

It all began a week ago. I got a lot of dirt in my toenails after running around barefoot during ultimate frisbee. So, I dug it out. It was hard work. I believe I got too far under the nail. It started to swell and kind of hurt.

Then I decided to apply some pressure on the affected region. I sank the "scraper" from my nail clippers into the swollen mass and voilà! I was a happy man.

Then, the next day, I tried again and bam! The happiness keeps on coming. Eventually, it will go back to the same old boring big toe, but in the meantime I am enjoying its slow return to normalcy.

Wreckage #2

I am an idiot, pure and simple. I need to learn to slow down. And enjoy the ride. Where the hell am I going that I need to be driving fast all the time? The scenery is so much prettier when you stop to smell the roses instead of constantly seeking an opportunity to pass the guy in front of you.

My 2nd wreck in as many months. What, do I have a death wish? Absolutely not. I really hope I can learn from this. And learn to be patient. I am patiently waiting for the bill from the motorbike repair shop. I am cringing at the thought of wiping out my savings, but it will be what it will be.

At least I didn't break anything. Or anyone else. It was a collision of magnitude. We both went down. It was one in the morning. No police were involved. Just a lot of curious and generally helpful Vietnamese. I didn't even see the guy coming until I was on my way to the ground.

We were both fortunate. I know I took the light as soon as it turned green. My impatience got the best of me. But I also know he ran a red. But everyone here runs reds. Even I do. It's as common as public nose picking. The question is, did he have his lights on? The answer is it doesn't really matter.

Eye boogers

They're endless in Vietnam. I can't even keep track how many times I am wiping the most enormous, the dirtiest, the darkest, the slimiest eye boogers from my eyes every day. It just has to be done. Any time, any place. Wipe them on the bed sheets, on my clothes or any other convenient location.

The eyes are absolutely working overtime. I just learned that we have this "organ" called the plica semilunaris around our eyes. It secretes a sticky fluid that collects any debris that has made its way into your eyes. And this debris is surrounded by the boogers to prevent our corneas from being scratched.

If it weren't for the plica semilunaris, I'd be blind by now. My corneas would be scratched beyond recognition and I'd be a foreign beggar on the streets of Vietnam. All of a sudden, I'm grateful for the slime that makes its home in the far reaches of my eyes. Thank you my friend!

The Academy

I work for two schools. This is one of them. The American International Academy Center. I love their signs.

Working out

Yes, things are working out. But that's not what I was going to talk about. Today, I joined a gym. It cost me 2,280,000 VND for six months, which amounts to around $24 a month. A far cry better than a lot of the gyms around here charging $100 a month and catering primarily to the expat contingent. Of course, it's a far cry worse than the $10 a month I pay back home.

Today was my first workout in approximately eight months. I am weak and out of shape. Not that this was any news to me. But it's even more obvious now that I've gone to the gym and seen my small muscles barely take shape in the mirror when they were fully contracted. That is sad.

I almost felt like I could have been anywhere. Once inside this facility, I could have been back home for all I knew. I also reconfirmed the notion that I hate gyms and the feeling of going through the motions. But the post-workout bliss overrides the blasé feeling that consumes me during the majority of my time in any gym.

It's almost like meditation. I have to not think about anything and let my mind blur into this oneness to get me through the experience. Treadmills, for example, are awful and one of the least appealing contraptions to set foot on. A little better than the squat rack. So, in order to even make it for 20 minutes on said machine, I have to let my mind go far away and let my feet blur into the movement of the conveyer. And if I'm lucky, I'll wake up and it'll all be over.

English teachers

Just a quick post about English teachers. They run the gamut. From highly-qualified professional folk to highly-unqualified unprofessional folk. As you might imagine. Anyone just trying to get by to make their living. I figure I fall somewhere in the middle and I'm ok with that.

One guy I know, who I actually like, just got a job paying around $19 an hour. Since he is from South America, English is not his native language and he has a discernible accent. He can't be in higher demand than me, can he?

Anyway, he told me he had a room available in his house. I was intrigued because it was a proper place to live. And it was cheaper than my guest house. And I would be farther away from the masses of expats that make up District 1. I told him later I was definitely interested in checking it out this weekend.

He responded back with a text. He needed to check with his roommates.

Ok ill talk with this guys

This guys? Or the guys? As it turns out, I was only happy for a minute. The next morning he sent me a text stating that the aforementioned room had been taken. It was the way this second text was written that was more cause for concern.

Hi friend sorry but the other room its already took

Yes, well, the quality certainly varies. I just hope he's not teaching grammar. He's still a good guy, but let's just hope he's teaching the ABCs or 123s. I think he can manage that.

Classroom games

I did not have a strong repertoire of games to play with my classes. That was in the beginning. It was clear that just playing hangman and tic-tac-toe was not going to cut it. So, I asked other teachers and the students themselves what they liked to play. Then I asked them how to play them. I still don't know that many games, but my ability to make things entertaining has increased ten-fold.

Of course, there were games I just forgot about. Like charades, pictionary and bingo. Then I learned of others, like snake, stop the bus and hot seat. There is no point in telling you how to play these games or what they are about. Today I learned a variation on hangman that makes the game a hundred times more exciting, especially when played with kids.

Instead of just playing and having nobody ever die as per usual, one of the kids came up and put another kid's name on the board and drew an arrow to the noose. Everyone's energy picked up when they knew one of their own was on the line. And it was fun to try and draw the kid's likeness when the guesses were wrong. And to see the kid slither down in his chair and put his book over his head in despair. I enjoyed seeing him writhe in discomfort.

That's who I am I guess. A prick. Then, the aforementioned kid got his chance. He put the other kid's name on the board and started calling out X and Z and J amongst other seldomly used letters. He knew what it was all about. The other kid narrowly avoided being hanged and the kids got a kick out of either trying to save or trying to send their fellow student to their demise.

Finally, it was my turn. The kids put up some dashes up on the board and I played the fool guessing X and J and Y and Z and Q and G and whatever I could to generate the most body parts under the noose without actually getting X's for eyes. It was a good time and quite heartwarming to see these kids blatantly yelling me the answer not wanting to see their new teacher die.

Kim's Guest House

This is where I'm staying. It's down the alley, hem 13, off of Co Giang Street in district 1. It's between Co Giang and Co Bac. You know where to find me. And right now, I'm at a coffee shop within walking distance of my place. I'm normally teaching at this hour, but we had a big storm and the school had a power outage. Just as well because I really didn't want to get soaked.
This is the view from my front door looking out over my "balcony" - a lot of corrugated tin roofs. Or is it rooves. I know it's not, but it should be.
This is the view in the opposite direction. Out my back window. Pretty exciting stuff, I know. I actually like the views. I'm jealous of the roof top patios. For sure.
And finally, this is the view out front, but looking down at the small pagoda. Or is it a temple? Or just a shrine? I like when I can hear the gong or smell the incense because it seems to happen so infrequently.

Fruit of the dragon

This is dragon fruit. In case you've been wondering. You know you have.

Tai Pierce

I just learned something new. As you do from time to time. Most people's names in Vietnam mean something. This I already knew. A lot of people have the same name meaning flower, power, sunset, spring, or some other arguably cool thing to be named after.

Western folk, on the other hand, tend to be named after other people, who were so named because somebody liked the name, which never meant anything in the first place. Or maybe it did, but nobody knows anymore. Like me, for example. Tyler. Means nothing, but has a decent ring to it.

If it does mean something, please enlighten me. But not if it means 'dickface' or something like that. I'd rather not know. So, what did I recently discover? Well, the Vietnamese name Tai is the closest sounding to my name. I haven't actually met anyone with this name, but I will adopt it nonetheless.

It means 'ear'. You can see why I haven't met anyone with this name. Who wants to be named after an ear? But for me, it's appropriate. I mean, come on, Ear Pierce. Isn't that cool? Don't tell me you're not amused. Because if you're not, well, you just have no sense of humor.

Testing my patience #199

It is now Thursday morning, the day after "Testing my Patience #198" went down. I am still in Vung Tau and I have finally settled down after missing my dinner the night before. I am in a coffee shop on the hillside overlooking the ocean. It is a beautiful spot. I order a mango shake, but sans the milk. My friend translates my butchered Vietnamese into something intelligible and away we go.

The waiter comes back and says no mango. Ok, papaya I say. He comes back with a rather pale looking papaya shake, which I instantly recognize as dairy contamination. I take note of this and voice my concern. My friend asks for clarification. Yes, there is milk. What the fuck? Did I not just ask for no milk? Ok, mistakes are made. It's okay. Settle down. They'll make me a new one.

Only they didn't. They left that one on the table. Sorry man, we fucked up, but this one is on you, they seemed to be saying. I ordered an iced coffee and waited for them to take away the milk shake that was elevating my blood pressure. In the end, they finally took it away. It wasn't about the money. Because it was peanuts. It was and is about principle. If you fuck up, it's on you. That's the way it goes.

But not here. The bill came and there it was. I couldn't do anything, but suck it up and accept that things are different here in Vietnam. You can't expect things to be the same way as they are back home. I have to quickly accept that if I'm going to keep my cool. It's taking me some time. It's really hard to stay cool when it's so hot. And when you're right, but you're really wrong.

Testing my patience #198

Let me take you back a few days. It is Wednesday night. I am in Vung Tau. I am heading out to dinner alone. My friend did not enjoy dinner with me the night before so she opted to meet me after I finished. I think I smacked my gums when I ate. Or chewed with my mouth open. Or corrected her English too often. I think I was just an annoying bastard!

Anyway, I found this place close to the ocean. There were not many customers. I ordered my food and a beer and waited. And waited. And had another beer. And waited some more. My food typically comes out in five minutes. Mi xao chay, otherwise known as fried noodles and vegetables, is a cheap and easy dinner. And usually delicious. This place was taking their sweet time.

I finally asked about my order. Yeah, it's coming they gestured and they walked to the kitchen and put in my order. No, no, no! I'm not waiting if you haven't even started! I gestured for the bill and angrily walked away, already late in meeting my friend and no food down my gullet to comfort my soul. I did what I could to show my displeasure, such as not making eye contact on my departure and accelerating quickly into traffic.

Of course, I wasn't really mad at them. Well, I was, but more at not being able to properly communicate with them and place a proper order. Obviously at some point during my order - probably when I said 'no fish sauce' - they thought I changed my mind. In my mind I was thinking how can you be so stupid! but of course I realize in retrospect that shit happens. A lot of shit happens. Especially in a foreign country where you can't speak the language.

The bar scene

I am not a big bar fly because that is not my scene. But I do frequent them on occasion. A friend and I try to go to a new place every Monday night. A couple weeks ago we popped in to this place called Lili's. Some bar girls swarmed to us like flies on shit. Hmmm...what kind of bar is this? Not all bars have women like this. Sure, it's nice to have the attention, but at what cost?

Some places have women purely to get the male clientele to stick around. Others have side businesses. What was this place? One of the women brought out the place's business card, as pictured above. Oooooh, pretty colors, I thought. Yes, that's nice indeed. Fancy schmancy. Who is the graphic designer?

Then she proceeded to show me what other services the bar offered. As if I couldn't guess. I must say, it is pretty creative. Sure, maybe a little tacky, but you have to admit, you didn't see it coming, did you now? That wasn't enough to keep us around. I mean, the girls have to at least be attractive. I'm being an ass. I'm joking. We enjoyed our beers and left the girls in the same questionably pristine condition as when we arrived.

Driving around the seaside

On my first full day in Vung Tau, I drove up the hill to the big statue of Jesus. I climbed the hill, realized how out of shape I was and exclaimed "Jesus!" Still far better shape than most of the people making the pilgrimage, but I can't be proud of this. I can't compare with others, only myself. Once I was in the arms of Jesus, I felt at peace, both loved and in love. My life now has meaning. Then once I rehydrated, I realized I was in a state of delusion and I ran down the hill as quickly as possible.
I peeled out of the motorbike parking area and drove around the waterfront to take in the scenery Vung Tau had to offer. Apparently, they like their statues. This one was the Virgin Mary, I think. Another ginormous monolith looking out to the sea. For some reason, as I was driving by, I was singing "Mother Mary comfort me, speaking words of wisdom..." Only now, I realize I had it all wrong. It really goes "Mother Mary comes to me..." Whatever. Let it be.
They definitely liked their statues. All forms of religion seemed to be present. There was probably a statue of Allah on the other side of the hill, but I did not venture any further. I had my fill of these monstrosities. It was time to let the breeze fill my spirit and lift me away to my own special place. Wherever that is, I don't know, but sometimes I find it and that's good enough for me.

Phuc Thinh hotel

Please pronounce this in your best American accent. This is where you take your lover. Or something. This isn't that funny. Maybe? Oh, come on.

White boy on a motorbike

The sun is harsh over here. That much is clear. Knowing this, I prepared myself for my trip to Vung Tau. I worse a scarf around my face and a long sleeve shirt to protect my arms. I was not as smart as I thought. I left on my trip under the strongest heat of the day. Of course any exposed skin was going to get burned. Especially my pasty white skin.

I kind of realized as much during the ride, but didn't want to lose any ground to my fellow motorbikers. I was winning this race and was only going to stop to refuel. Typical me, never stopping to take in the scenery. But at the same time, trying to prevent unncessary exposure by just plodding along. So, I blasted full throttle at times, tears filling my eyes.

I made it in decent time. I really had no idea where I was going other than a general direction. But I can now say I have manipulated the highways of Vietnam. Or at least this one highway. And I learned it is necessary to wear pants when driving a motorbike for extended periods. And to apply some sunscreen on my hands. Or wear gloves if I can find any that fit...

Teacher Tiler

Cockroach

Why does that word make me shudder? I hate it. Makes me narrow my eyes and grit my teeth. A combination of two foul words in and of themselves. A cock. Fairly displeasing to think about. And a roach. Again, nothing pleasurable in that. Combine the two and you have yourself something really unpleasurable.

I had one of these little fuckers in my room last night. Only he wasn't little. Every time I tried to chase him down, he scurried away or flew straight at me. Made me scream like a baby. And run away with my arms flapping at my sides. Eventually, my feelings of compassion for living creatures gave way to my desire for a restful night of sleep.

I only wanted to stun the guy with a little whip action from my bathroom mat. It is what I want to believe what happened. It may be true after all. But I think I maimed the guy. Or gal. And he or she laid in submission writhing in pain. Then I scooped "it" up, because I turned he or she into an object, and threw "it" out the window. Out of sight, out of mind. It's what we do.

Sore throat

I am sick. It all started on my day off this past Wednesday. A tickle in my throat. The initial manifestation of something more serious. I hate tickles in my throat. Harbingers of future distress, they are. I don't think I've ever used that word. I mean, why would I ever use the word distress? Well, except when I have diarrhea. It's fortunately been a while.

Anyway, back to me. Bring back the spotlight. I'm not finished yet. I went home early on Wednesday night. And Thursday. And Friday too. And last night was an early nighter as well. And I can forsee the future. Tonight is no different. But it's alright. It's kind of nice not to wake someone up to bring my motorbike inside. And it's also nice to see the morning goings on. My favorite time of day, when I'm up for it.

I think I'm on the up and up. We'll see tomorrow. I'm drinking lots of water. And hot beverages. And gargling with salt water. And slowly dissolving mentholated tablets in my mouth to soothe the inflammation in the derriere of my throat. And I'm actually napping. Trying to nip this one in the bud. Because it's awful difficult to teach with a swollen throat. Be gone already!

Am I just a picky bastard?

Or does this tailor just suck? I went to them in the beginning because they were open late. It was near midnight and I needed a dress shirt for my class in the morning. To my amazement, they actually had one on the rack that fit me. I negotiated the price because that is what I do. And because it was a little dirty and was missing a button that was easily replaced.

Then the occasion presented itself again. I went in one late evening and bought the pink one off the rack. I didn't want pink, but the salesgirl said it looked nice and that's all it took. A lie. And I was sold. And of course, this shirt was negotiated for as well. It's hard when I'm used to buying my clothes at Ross Dress for Less and REI's major clearance sales.

I decided to get some shirts tailored. Some shirts that would truly fit me. Problem is I can't decide on anything for the life of me. Especially when there are rows upon rows of fabric. That doesn't look like a shirt! I just cannot envision it unless it is in fact an article of clothing. So I toss and turn and crinkle my face and narrow my eyes and eventually come to a decision. One that is still easily overturned in my head.

My first two shirts were really nice. They only messed up one thing. The length. Kind of an important thing. They would ideally be a few centimeters longer so they don't come untucked as often as they do. But they fit good and at $10 a pop, the price was right.

I went back for some more. Same as before, but longer. They jacked them up. They forgot to add the additional length. And my choice of fabrics was somewhat regrettable. These people were upset they screwed up the shirts. Blame was placed here and there and I thought I might see ladies brawl. But I calmed them down before any hair was pulled. They redid the shirts and they came out ok. I still look at them and cringe a little.

Recently, I was in need of some trousers. It's hard to find anything that fits that is pre-made. Well, aside from some nasty, pleated khakis that I had regrettably purchased a while back. I was willing to pay a lot more for something I actually liked. So, after checking around a little and feeling the vibe of various tailor shops, I went back to the old standby.

It was just easier. They already knew I was a picky bastard. But it was hard nonetheless to show my face in this place again. I said during the measurements, that I didn't want them tight. I don't want them chaffing my quads. They turned out as tight as my other pairs. Exactly what I didn't want! So, to my dismay, I had to have them redo them. They are now resting comfortably in my closet. But again, I am questioning my choice of fabric. I am starting to dislike going to the tailor. If only Vietnamese people came in my size!

A trip to the tailor

I just went to the tailor. This old guy remembered me from my last visit when I had some pants altered into shorts. His prices were higher than I wanted to pay, but I kept hearing you get what you pay for in my head. I envisioned a higher quality of pant than I was used to so I contemplated longer than usual. Which means I was there for too long.

He ended up talking to me about the beautiful women here in Vietnam. And he mentioned his younger girlfriend. Then he started tinkering with his phone and I realized he had something to show me. It was a video of his girlfriend. Naked. 16 years old. Lying on the bed. Covering her face. And he was proud. I decided to take my contemplation elsewhere.

To be a kid again

It's like clockwork. Plus or minus ten minutes. It's almost guaranteed that the heaviest rains of my life will fall around 5pm. You'd think I'd learn from this. Instead, I watch the skies darken and ponder what to do with the rest of my afternoon. Should I get my errands done? Or should I tinker with my new toys? I have a new phone and new speakers for my laptop. Adult toys I guess.

I procrastinated too long. I am in until the rains cease to fall. And who knows how long that will last. If I turn down Mr. Cash then I get to hear the kids playing in the rain. And I get to hear the rain too. Both enjoyable sights and sounds. To be a kid again. I'd take some of it, but leave a lot of it behind. Is it ok to try and have the best of both worlds?

I just want to play and be a kid and never grow up. To laugh and not let the little things bother me. Of course they do though. But then I want to enjoy the adult side of life too. But what exactly does that mean? I mean, if it means get a career, then I take it back. On the other hand, if it means occasionally partaking in the consumption of mind-stupefying beverages and pleasures of the flesh, then that's what I'm talking about.

Out of gas

Last night, on my way home from work, I ran out of gas. I was borderline empty when I left for work so it was no surprise when my motorbike started sputtering. I had just cut through a gas station a minute prior to the onset of the laborious breathing. I was reminded then of my need for fuel, but figured I'd make it to the next spot down the road. I was wrong.

At the next red light, the engine gave me nothing. I was being passed by honking cars on my left and motorbikes on my right as I pushed myself through the intersection whilst remaining seated. Then I made my way for the curb. I barely had time to think through my options when a man, reclining on his motorbike, started motioning me to push my bike. Yes, yes, I thought. I will push it to the next gas station.

No, no, that's not what he meant. He came over and proceeded to gesture to me that he was going to push me with his foot to the next gas station. Genius, I thought! That's why I always see someone's leg up on someone else's motorbike. Either they're low on gas or out of it. My new best friend put up his leg and down the road we went.

The first gas station was under construction. Or something. No gas was available. Onward ho! Honking we went down Nguyen Dinh Chieu. I was laughing all the way. Well, inwardly laughing. The next gas station was closed as well. Something strange was in the air. This guy new his way around. We continued past Cach Mang Thang 8 and turned right somewhere and there it was. An open gas station. I rolled in.

Obviously the guy wanted money. And he was definitely going to get it. I immediately grabbed my wallet and handed him 50,000. It was graciously accepted. I filled up my tank, started up the engine and was off again into the starry night. Well, I'm sure there were stars somewhere. I went off with a smile and a slightly lighter wallet, but far richer indeed.

I got beer stuck between my teeth

It is Saturday night in Saigon. 10:22pm. I am lounging on my bed that sags heavily in the middle. I am out of gas. It has been raining since about 2:30 this afternoon. And because of said rain, there is a puddle on the floor in my room. I'm not overly concerned.

I feel quite abnormal today and I can't explain it. I feel like I'm on drugs and I really don't like it. Like a bad trip, if I could guess what a bad trip was like. It all started after I consumed the 7up and the bucket of sugared popcorn.

I knew it was a bad combination. I was going to be all hyped up for work. However, it seemed to have the reverse effect. I was exhausted. After a couple of near misses on the motorbike, I arrived at work and could not stop wiping the boogers from my eyes.

Yes, there is a lot of crap in the air, which creates the most enormous eye boogers the eye has ever seen. The eyes are working overtime and wearing glasses only seems to cause more problems. The debris bounces off my face, gets trapped behind my glasses and then ricochets back into my eyes.

After my first two classes of the afternoon, I find myself fading slowly. My eyes will not stay open and I am wiping slime from them every 15 minutes. Something is amiss. I go get an iced coffee and some Mentos. On my way back, a gang of Vietnamese men force me to chug a beer.

This does not help things. I feel better, but even more wiped out. Then I drink my coffee and eat my Mentos. I think I have overdosed on sugar. Then I "teach" my class - perhaps the worst performance in my short-lived career. It doesn't help when the computer won't start and when it does, the DVD won't play.

Now, I'm back at home, too exhausted to attend a friend's housewarming party. Instead, I've consumed a couple Tigers, some peanuts and some vegetable chips. I think I was trying to balance out my sugar intake with the appropriate amount of salt.

And oh how that shortening, monosodium glutamate and other shit I'd normally never consume tastes good. Mentos? Come on, I haven't eaten those since 1983. 7up? I stopped drinking soda in 1995. Chips? I really don't partake in such activities. Beer? Same same. Ok, obviously that last one is a complete and utter lie.

What I'm saying is that I haven't got a clue what I'm actually babbling on about. All I know is that my eyes are about to seal themselves shut and I wish I had some air conditioning. And maybe that I didn't have to wake up for class in the morning. But it is what it is. And it is all good. Good night.

How to ride a motorbike

The most frequent advice I hear on how to best drive in this city is "drive slowly." It's probably in the top three. I'd have to say "pay attention" is number one. Followed by "expect the unexpected." Cause if you don't pay attention and you drive slowly, you're still going to get dinged. And if you don't expect the unexpected you're in for one hell of a surprise.

Clearly my number one fault is driving too fast. I wouldn't say I'm speeding just perhaps going too fast for the speed of traffic. Throwing off the flow. But I'm certainly not the only guilty party. It does, however, create a nuisance for some folks, who clearly don't know how to drive, but have adjusted to the frenzied "fuck the rules" style of driving here in Vietnam.

Two weeks ago today, I got in my first wreck. I am fine and dandy. Last week, this guy got clipped just ahead of me and I saw the wreck unfold before my eyes. I stopped and watched the guy writhe on the road before the clipper came back to tell the clippee why it was his fault. I couldn't do much and felt like I was the person at fault so I just took off.

Two days ago, a friend of mine went down. He said he was going too fast. The guy he hit got up and took off. My friend fortunately got up, collected a few random bits from his motorbike and made his way to the side of the road. Nobody else stopped. They just veered around and/or gawked from the side of the street.

Last night, as I was making a left turn with the rest of Ho Chi Minh City, the girl in front of me got clipped by a taxi. She wasn't going that fast, but fell off her bike to the right and I nearly ran over her hand. Fortunately, my bionic vision saw that this was going to happen and I crammed on the brakes and narrowly missed her hand.

Then I assisted in picking up her bike all the while staying on my own. Bionic strength, I guess. Or maybe it was the two other guys. Again, I felt like I was at fault for helping and because I couldn't say anything. Well, I could have said "I'm sorry" but it wasn't my fault so I didn't.

Good times. Accidents happen. Shit happens. You combine the amount of motorbikes in this city with the number of reckless drivers, bad drivers, women drivers and increasing number of automobiles and well, I'm kind of surprised I'm not seeing more carnage. Fortunately for me, I haven't actually seen blood and guts.

I was just kidding about the women drivers. It's usually some punk ass male swerving in and out of traffic. And it's that same guy who gets a nose in front of you and then swerves into your spot. And that's the truth. Pay attention. Expect the unexpected. And drive slowly. If you combine the three, they basically say drive safely.

-Written on Tuesday, July 1

Friday night

My Friday night is just another night. I work from 6-9pm. I have my most hated class from 6-7:20pm, a 20 minute break and then my most loved class from 7:40-9pm. Then I typically go home and change into more casual attire and go grab a late dinner. Tonight, I am having an Indian curry and orange juice. The curry is too hot so I have decided to continue writing.

My early class is in a large classroom and I have 24 students. They are stupid. Actually, I don't really know. They are just teenagers. And really obnoxious ones at that. I don't even like trying anymore. They talk over me. Most of them completely disinterested in learning English. Or so it appears that way. Tonight, I told them that teaching them English was like trying to feed a dead person dinner. Impossible.

So, I left them a little early with no goodbye and barely a glance in their direction. Got downstairs, fumed a little and went for a short walk in the rain. Then I regrouped and regained my almost-always-nearly-lost composure and taught my next group of students. They are at a lower level, but clearly more advanced. And respectful. And fun. And quiet. And want to learn. And they balance out the lows from earlier in the evening.

And then I hope on my motorbike and fly home as quickly as possible. And here I sit, enjoying my curry and orange juice and pondering how quickly this night is going to be over. It definitely won't be a late one because I teach at 8am on Saturday. Fortunately, I teach kids and they are mostly fantastic examples of how we should be leading our lives. Enjoying and living in the moment. Experiencing the here and now. Or so I like to think.

Random #111

Written the other day on my balcony (as if you cared)

There seems to be a huge storm brewing in whatever direction I'm facing. I love the storms. I just hope I'm not caught in the downpour like I was last night. It was still fun, but probably only so because I was ready for it. Driving to work wearing flip flops and my pants rolled up to my knees with the rain hurtling towards the ground at a ferocious speed. It was tough trying to keep the raingear covering as much of my body as possible and trying to squint through the raindrops and fog covering my glasses.

I don't really care what happens. If it rains, it rains. I get wet, I teach wet. No big deal. It would just make class more interesting. So, here I lollygag around drunk on a Thai curry and jackfruit, wiling away the hours before I must go and teach. Not a bad way to spend the afternoon if I don't say so myself. It is rather hot, but when in the south of Vietnam, you can't really expect much else. Praying for a gentle breeze.

Day #19

Oh yeah, yesterday I finally had a day off. My first day off in twenty days. I can't complain much about working only three hours a day, but having no work at all makes a world of difference. Having nothing to prepare for, absolutely nothing to worry about for an entire day was a fantastic experience and I forgot how much I missed the feeling. Now, I will have that feeling at least once a week.

I canceled my Wednesday evening class last week. I will miss some of those kids, but am happy to say goodbye to some of the others. Schmucks. When I canceled my class, the scheduler asked if I could possibly teach if she couldn't find a substitute. No. I can't. I won't. I got my schedule last Friday and took a passing glance and it appeared that I had the day off.

Then this Wednesday rolls around and I'm getting phone calls and texts about my whereabouts. Why? Apparently I didn't look at the schedule that thoroughly. But I wasn't about to ruin my day and go teach the same class I had said my goodbyes to the week before. So, after much begging and pleading on the part of the scheduler, she finally gave in, told me she hated me (in jest) and ultimately hung up the phone.

I felt bad, but I had plans. And I gave them a week's notice. And I wanted a life and I was having one and wasn't about to give it up. It was too good of a bike ride for someone to throw a stick in my spokes. I just wouldn't have it. And now, I feel relatively sane again and am making plans for my next day off already. I can't wait. Always working for the weekend.

Nice people

Vietnam is full of nice people. So, when I pulled up to the traffic light and this guy smiled at me, I thought nothing of it. Just another nice person. He kept smiling. Then he said, "I love you." I laughed it off and said "You love me?" eagerly waiting for the light to turn green.

He repeated his declaration of love. I smiled uneasily and watched as he repeatedly gestured with his tongue against the inside of his cheek. I tasted vomit when I heard the smacking sound of his gums. He said something about my hotel, but I was already up, up and away before he even got the words out.

Hotmail

Fuck you hotmail. Right now, I hate you. I don't have time for your mood swings. Last time I was online, you were fucking me around. And again, today, two days later, you decide to be "temporarily unavailable." I really don't have time for this shit. If this happens again, I'm going to have to start seeing other people. You're not making yourself available to me as much as I'd like and there are plenty of fish in the sea if you know what I'm talking about. Can you say Gmail?