The Time I Almost Died: Two weeks ago we had a new driver taking us from the ferry terminal in Vung Tao to the site office. I was riding with a coworker in the backseat of the car. He was sitting behind the driver and I was sitting behind the passenger seat. As I've mentioned once or twice traffic here is chaotic, but chaotic in a way that is generally predictable. Plus after more than 18 months of fighting it every day, my nerves have been hardened from the hundreds of close calls I see and experience every week. As we turned onto a new road, the driver, my coworker and me, were greeted by a small box truck passing a dump truck on a two lane road. So the small box truck was coming towards us in the same lane. This is not unusual behavior for trucks here. The problem was that the box truck wasn't making much progress in its endeavor to pass the dump truck. We slowed down as the distance between the box truck and us decreased. Soon we were stopped in the road as the box truck flashed its lights and honked at us, still unable to overtake the dump truck. My coworker began to inch closer towards me, so that he would at least be on the non-direct-impact side of the vehicle. He was almost in my lap when the box truck was finally able to overtake the dump truck and swerve back into the correct lane. The truck missed our immobile car by less than a six inches and was travelling at least 70km and hour. Our vehicle shook in the air currents created by the passing car. We all removed our hearts from our throats, reswallowed our breakfasts and continued on our way.
The Time I Was Lucky To Not Die From Exposure: The following weekend I participated in a charity bicycle ride from my house to Ho Tram, a 130km distance. I did it for the kids. We have to think about them. Anyway, I was having a fine time riding with a group of friendly riders. We'd covered about 60km of the ride when I got a flat tire. I shouted to the group, but I guess no one could hear me over the wind in their ears and lively banter because they sped off into the distance and out of sight. I stood alone and grumbling on the side of the road and changed the tube. As I worked with a curious Vietnamese man watching my every move* I considered getting in a taxi and going home. The thought of doing the second half of the ride alone was not appealing. Plus it was hot. Like incredibly hot. It's funny how you don't particularly notice the heat when you're moving on a bicycle, but the moment you stop, the sweat starts pouring. I had just about decided to pack my bike into a taxi and head home in air conditioned comfort when I remembered that my wallet, along with $300 or so, ID and credit cards was bouncing in the back of a support vehicle somewhere on the road to the final destination. With the tire fixed, I remounted my bicycle and slogged onward. It's a lot harder to ride quickly when you are alone. There's no one around to talk with and help you forget about the suffering your legs are enduring. This does not happen when you ride alone. If you are suffering you simply conduct an internal Socratic dialogue between your rational mind and your suffering body. I was ensconced in this dialogue while passing through Ba Ria, about 30km from my destination when I heard a pop from my rear wheel. I slowed to a stop and prayed I hadn't punctured again, as I only had brought one spare tube and one spare CO2 canister for my pump. The tire didn't appear to be deflating. I thanked a nameless, faceless deity and continued my journey. But as I pressed onward, I noticed the bike was growing increasingly difficult to control. The back end seemed to be fishtailing, which is a tell-tale sign of a flat. The tire wasn't flat, but it was slowly, painstakingly deflating and I was powerless to stop it. The sun was climbing ever higher in the sky and temperatures threatened to cross 100 degrees. I slowed my roll down to under 20km/hr to keep the bike under control. At 5km to go I couldn't go any faster than 15km/hr. With 3km to go I decided I had to walk. I walked about 100m until two guys on mountain bikes approached me from behind. One of them had a pump, but Murphy's Law of Bike Pumps states, "Whenever you are desperate for a pump and someone appears with one, it will be for the wrong valve type." His pump was type Schraeder, and therefore useless for me. He was nice enough to pedal and chat with me as I wrestled my bike over the last 3km. The tire finally gave out about 200m from the end of the ride and I walked the bike the rest of the way. I was lucky. The ride destination is in the boonies, far from help and on a road that has very little traffic. I had about two swallows of water left in my bottles when I arrived.
*He was downright amazed that I had everything with me to fix the problem. He was especially enthralled with my pump which is is smaller than my thumb.
Things You Can't Unsee: Many evenings spent in Vung Tao go like this:
- Arrive at hotel, change clothes.
- Meet in hotel parking lot for dinner
- Go to dinner
- TatVeg returns to the hotel to sleep while "single" coworkers go out to girly bars for "drinks."
#4 happened recently and I left my coworkers on the curb outside the restaurant and took a taxi alone back to the hotel. When I got in the car the next morning I found my Coworker in a giggly mood. As we bounced along in the car he whipped out his phone and showed me a series of photos that went something like this (bear in mind that I am viewing only minutes after finishing breakfast at seven in the morning.):
- Our 64-year old colleague being attacked by girls who appear to be less than one third his age. He is smiling and mugging for the camera
- 64-YOC stands rooted in the same spot, only this time with no shirt on. #S
waggy* - 64-YOC stands rooted in the same spot, only this time wearing only boxer briefs. Navy Blue if you must know. (It's seared into my brain....)
- 64-YOC stands rooted in the same spot completely naked. The butt cheeks, my friend, are blowing in the wind. At this point his facial expression could be described as "the drunk version of the 1000-yard stare."
- 64-YOC, still naked with his saggy ass in plain view of the camera motorboating a young lady seated on the bar while a crowd of cheering people observe. The Horror, The Horror
* That's me being all hip and Twitter-riffic even though I haven't tweeted in months** and have never used a hashtag.
**Thanks for not following me... jerks
When I regained the ability to speak I said, "I guess he better be nice to you from now on." My coworker turned to me and got very serious. We then had the following exchange.
Him: "Yeah, I already told him we are getting separate tabs at the bar from now on"
Me: "Why is that?"
Him: "Because our tab was eighteen million* and he only had four million with him. I had to pay for the rest."
Me: "And you guys wonder why I never come out with you.... I think I might actually die if I ran up a $900 bar tab in Vietnam"
*VND 18,000,000 = US$900. I can't actually explain to you how it is possible to have a $900 bar tab in Vietnam. To lend a little perspective on that amount of money consider the following. On my birthday in 2011, we bought drinks and snacks for a dozen people all night and our tab was VND3,000,000, or $150. Our tab included at least 20 glasses of wine, dozens of cocktails and more than 30 beers, plus pizza and other munchies for all. This was three guys in one evening. It would be incredible if it wasn't so awful.
Death by Fried Rice: There are only three places to eat near the site where I work every week: a beach restaurant (known as The Beach), Sanctuary, and a local resort called Ven Ven. I normally vote to go to Sanctuary even though it is three times more expensive than the other two places simply because there is only so much rice and morning glory one TatVeg can consume in any given week. Recently, however, I discovered that Ven Ven has some mighty tasty Garlic Fried Rice, so it is back on the green light list for site lunching. The first time I ordered the GFR it came on a tiny plate. It was like a side order of rice, not enough for a meal. So yesterday when we went back I asked for two orders of GFR. A plate came with a portion of rice that appeared to be double the size of what I'd gotten on the previous visit. The TatVeg was pleased. Then, to my surprise, another equally large plate of GFR arrived at our table. Now instead of twice the original portion, I had been given four times what I actually required. I did my best, but could only eat about 1-1/4 plates of GFR. The rest went in the trash I'm sorry to say. Now I have no idea what to order next time...
Capturing A Unicorn:
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| You'll have to enlarge the photo to see it, but sitting on the dash of that car is the long sought Hennessey Cannon. You thought I forgot didn't you? And yes, I was driving the motorbike when I snapped the photo. |
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| And the same week I managed to capture the long sought after Pineapple Air Freshener. Can you see it? It's right there in the little triangle window above the air conditioning vent. This one had lost most of it's pineappl-i-ness from sitting in the sun all the time I'm sorry to report. |
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