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| Bánh mì ốp la - favorite breakfast of lazy vegetarians. |
A few days ago, I was sitting on my motorbike watching the old cà phê đá man beat his ice sack with a wooden paddle*. Another old man, dapper in a grey three piece suit with gold-striped tie, sauntered over and began petting the fender like it was a Golden Retriever. He peppered me with the usual battery of 'where you from', 'what your job' questions in surprisingly good English. Then he grinned slyly and leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, 'How much you pay coffee?' I shrugged and told him 10,000 VND (in Vietnamese, no less - numbers are my sole area of competency with this language). I was feeling quite proud of myself until he laughed, slapped me on the back, and exclaimed, 'My friend, no good! Vietnam people 8,000 đồng!'
Sheeeeit.
*This is how you get crushed ice without a fridge.
It hurt to learn that my smiling, avuncular coffee man has been gouging me happily for months. But I still go back every morning, even though our relationship has suffered a little setback. It's still better than Starbucks. I'm proud of this reaction, which helps me distinguish myself from the backpackers who would rather drown a bag full of kittens than pay an extra nickel for coffee.
~
On the other hand, my reactions to traffic have slowly but steadily grown much less magnanimous. At first, I found a certain glee in navigating the savage avenues of Saigon. Every unscathed ride to work was a cause for celebration. I was quite proud of my ability to move seamlessly amongst the mad swirl of cars, trucks, and motorbikes without losing my limbs or sanity. Lately, however, the thrill is most definitely gone.
I have mastered the contemptuous no-look flipoff in response to taxis honking. When pajama clad old women smugly wave their arms to clear space for a left-hand turn, I accelerate instead of slowing down. If an oblivious high school student decides to cross the street without looking (though its not just teenagers who are guilty of this), he is discouraged with an aggressive horn blast and serious engine revving.
I'm decidedly less proud of this reaction. As habits go, road-rage is perhaps the least useful for a Saigon expat's short-and-long-term health. Resisting the urge to clothesline the masked and hooded wrong-way drivers on 3 Tháng 2 has probably cost me most of my 70s. And every roundabout is basically a full coronary waiting to happen.
When I catch myself having these angry thoughts, I'm amazed at how quickly and sneakily they appear. If I'm not careful, I can spend half the ride entertaining Tarantino-esque revenge fantasies against the guy who cut me off while blabbering into his phone. The only saving grace is that these feelings usually dissipate as soon as I hop off the bike.
Because there's no carry-over to the rest of my life, I haven't been proactive about working on taming this particular dragon. There doesn't seem to be any urgency to mellow out. Which is, I'm pretty sure, the exact approach you SHOULDN'T take with issues like this.
I brought this up to my friend Kelsey when we Skyped last week. After listening to my half-assed rationalizations, she proceeded to annihilate my argument: 'If things get a little bit shittier every day, you probably wouldn't notice any day-to-day changes. But after a while life would be a lot shittier and you wouldn't even realize how it happened.' There was no clever response to that.
She was right to warn against feeding the pet peeves and minor irritations that slowly blossom into bitterness and cynicism, two traits especially obnoxious in expats. Nobody likes to listen to the guy who finds fault in everything, unless you're a devotee of FOX/CNN/MSNBC/etc. In fairness, road-rage is really the only issue I have in Vietnam; with this sole (though sizable) exception, I am stupidly in love with this country. Still, it doesn't hurt to be on guard. Watched pots never boil over and get you deported.
~
After two years in Korea, I was ready to go. I found 99% of all public behavior incredibly annoying. This made every subway ride, grocery trip and workout an ordeal that would warm Larry David's bitter, shriveled heart. With such negative and disproportionate reactions to basically everything, my time was obviously up.
Once out of Korea, I realized how much of that negativity was due to my inability to manage a difficult workplace situation (i.e. a really shitty job). And it was disappointing to understand how much I'd left on the table due to petty sourness. I'd not only cut off my nose but shaved my eyebrows and sharpened my teeth just to piss off Face a little bit.
I think I'll do better in Vietnam. Time is a great teacher, even if it does kill all its pupils. Negative reactions to certain stimuli might be inevitable, but after the knee-jerk we can reclaim our balance Acquiring this kind of emotional/mental resiliency is way tougher and messier than The Alchemist suggests, but I can't think of a more useful skill to learn.
~
Life is too awesome to be pissy all the time.
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