Motorbikes and Playing Chicken

Riding a motorbike through the city is to play a game of chicken every time you come to an intersection. Really. Bikes just shoot out from everywhere and they will cut you off...if you let them. At first I was constantly slowing down or swerving in order to avoid them. After a while I got tired of just giving in so I tried to just ignore them and keep going. It was unnerving at first but I soon realized that it really is just a game of chicken. So screw it. Now they avoid me. Except yesterday.

Well, this one bike came a bit too close and I just responded with a big "F**k You!" He almost hit me! So the guy turns and follows me, gets ahead of me, glares, and give me the finger. He stays in front of me glaring and flipping. He is big for a Vietnamese but still no threat. So, feeling my testosterone pumping, I'm like, bring it on shorty. He eventually sped off. And I realized how stupid I was acting. It's that alpha male thing. I never have that experience any more. I shouldn't have yelled out the swear word, that was letting the other guy know that I was scared. And that doesn't work in the game of chicken.

In other news, my neighbors continue to move more and more into my kitchen. I prepare a salad for lunch and have to blast the speakers to hear NPR over their conversations on my steps. As the picture show, they are literally in my kitchen now. It's kind of funny. I don't really mind the company, but I've never invited them in, they just sit there.

My sink and countertop are just to the left out of the photo.

I often sit on my bed an practice the guitar. Here are a couple of photos of what I see while playing.

And last but not least, the school halloween party:

Buying A Motorbike

I've been renting a piece of junk for a motorbike since I got here for $50 a month. Brad suggested that I buy a new, low-end Chinese-built bike for about $350. That sounded like a good plan. Then I figured I could buy a Honda basic bike new for $700.  So that got me off shopping.

Before I knew it I was pretty much craving a Honda Air Blade, top of the line, cool as all hell. A babe magnet, as I was teaching my students. (We spent a class discussing what kind of bike I should buy. The Air Blade won out.)

A new Air Blade costs about $2200. This is the Lexis of motorbikes. You are definitely well-off if you can afford one in Vietnam. I decided to buy one because that is about half the cost of my scooter in America which I only use about 2 months a year. This one will get plenty of action.

So, credit card in hand I went to the Honda dealership, found the bike I wanted, asked the price, and gave them my credit card (there was a Visa sign on the wall) and was told they don't take credit cards. Okay, I'll go get cash. No, that won't work either, I'm a foreigner, foreigners can't own a bike.

I had heard that. Ex-pats have to put the bike in a Vietnamese person's name. Preferably someone they trust. So I drove to my lawyer's office to ask what my options were. And I was going to ask her assistant to come and help me make a purchase. Turns out the lawyer was selling her Air Blade (it was black and she wants a new yellow one). After going back and forth we settled on $1700. She would take care of all the paperwork, give me a bill of sale in case I was stopped by the police, and register the bike for me.

Anyway, two days later and 17 ATM withdrawals I had the bike. It's sweet. And my lawyer went straight to the Honda dealer with my cash and bought her new one. I've gotten lots of compliments since I've been driving mine around. I did have one problem that shows what an idiot I am and how funny our brains work. When I was given the bike I looked at the gas gauge and it read full. How nice of her to do that. To my dismay, after riding around the gauge never moved. Okay, it's broken I'll have it fixed. I still figured the tank had been full when she gave it to me. Two days later I run out of gas. When I fill the tank, the needle goes all the way over to the other side. That's when I realize that the needle didn't read full, the F was an E, she gave it to me on empty! How stupid can I be? Clear as day there was that E staring me in the face. Come to think of it, there really isn't much difference between an E and an F. I'm dumb but not all that dumb.

A Trip to the Hospital

No, I didn't get hurt. I had to take a physical to get my work permit. The lawyer who I hired sent me with her assistant to the hospital. For $100 you get the VIP treatment, which means you don't wait for anything. No lines. For an hour and a half we ran from one room to the next. I had my heart monitored, my chest x-rayed, my hearing and teeth checked (dental examine consisted of my opening my mouth and she looking inside), a urine analysis, and a couple of other things I'm not really sure what they were. All in all it was painless.

Yes, the doctor at the end said I had some protein in my urine and I should keep an eye on it. But I chalk that up to being dehydrated at the time because I had gone for my 5 mile run and not been allowed to drink water before the examination. Then again, maybe I have diabetes. If I do, given my diet and exercise routine, it would be a miracle and I'd take that as a sign that God wants me home. I would never ever take any pills. Just kill me first.

I've got three classes a week that I'm getting paid to teach and 8 classes I volunteer.  I plan to do 50-50. Lan who owns the language school that I teach at (with Mike from America) asked me if I would be willing to teach at Pacific Ocean University (last year they asked me, but did nothing, so I was going to say no), they were willing to pay me. I said in that case I would. It really doesn't matter, it's only $10 or $12 an hour. I just like doing it.

My neighbors continue to make themselves home at my house. They gather at my steps in larger groups now as you can see from the photo. Frequently I will be making something in the kitchen and the pop in. I've eaten dinner at their restaurant now a couple of times, so. It's nice.

Next on my agenda is to buy a motor bike.

These Are My Front Steps

I love my neighbors. I must because someone is usually sleeping on my front steps whenever I come home. Actually, they aren't my neighbors, they work at the restaurant next door. Mostly it's the afternoon when they are sleeping, taking naps because they work from 9am till 9pm. I also hear them chatting away in front of my door while I'm upstairs working on my computer. The only time I'm not happy is when they completely block my way in. The other night I came home around 9 and the guy in the photo was passed out drunk. I told the women that the next time it happens I'm putting him in the street.