When it Rains...

My life is about to get a great deal busier.

One of my classes was canceled last Monday and I was left with only 14 teaching hours a week - enough to survive but not much fun, and of course it left me with far too much time on my hands.

Within the last three days, however, I've been given three new classes for a total of 26 hours a week, plus I've signed up for an intensive two-month Vietnamese course, which meets for ten hours a week,

So, from 14 to 36 working hours. Should be fun.

I Beg to Differ

Some time ago I posted about the persistence of the shoe-shiners and postcard-sellers on the street. I have to say, their pluck and determination gets old very quickly.

You can't patronize them even if you want to, because it's never just one peddler. Get your shoes shined and within seconds there will be about a dozen more people all asking for your money; two or three more shoe-shiners, some kids selling gum, an old lady selling postcards, two more people selling wallets and sunglasses, another person selling books, someone selling bottles of water or hollowed-out coconuts, and who knows what else...

That doesn't even count the constant entreaties from motorbike drivers, cyclo drivers, and straight-up beggars.

But the women with babies are the worst. Not because of the emotional blackmail, but because most of them are fake! The babies - and sometimes the young children hawkers too - are controlled by an evil criminal syndicate which forces them to work and then takes all their money, so you're not doing them much good in any case.

Facing a desperate crowd like that, you can't blame them for wanting help - but you really resent them, because there's simply no end to it, and no matter what you do they'll still be back.

Against All Odds

The profusion of art for sale here in Vietnam is something of a surprise for me. Although there are very few art galleries and even fewer art museums, the streets are practically overflowing with paintings, sculpture, and lacquerware for sale. Most of these are cheap reproductions of Western classic paintings (I already have my copy of Gustav Klimt's 'The Kiss') such as Matisse, Dali, and Botero(?).

But the best thing about the art scene here is that it's remarkably affordable to have your photos, pictures from a book etc. turned into an oil painting. Walking along Bui Vien (part of the main tourist area) I found myself facing this:

I asked the artist (who happened to be the owner) if that piece had been commissioned by anyone. He shook his head, and said he couldn't remember where the source material had come from.

As it happens, the only official Jewish organization in this city that I'm aware of (Chabad) is three blocks away on Le Loi. The Jews denied all involvement. Stay tuned.

Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch....

I know I'm a bit late on this story, but...

Sarah Palin's unmarried teenage daughter is pregnant.

I guess that abstinence-only education really worked, huh? Of course we can't talk about it because it's a 'family matter' and an 'issue of privacy'. Funny, I thought the whole pro-life no sex education thing was premised on the idea that privacy was a myth created by liberals to hide their own depravity.

Let me tell you, if Barack Obama had an unmarried pregnant teenage daughter you can bet we'd be hearing aabout it 24/7. His political ambitions would be over. I guess the rules are different for one side of the aisle.

The Opera Curse Continues

One of the more serious disappointments from my time in Buenos Aires was that the Teatro Colon was under construction, forcing me to go to the smaller Coliseo - or out to La Plata - to get my opera fix.

The situation in Saigon, however, seems much more dire:



This pinkish French confection used to house the National Legislature, but after the RVN government collapsed it reverted to being a musical venue and was given the uninspiring name of the Municipal Theater.

For my entire time here, however, it's been closed and undergoing repairs. The doors are open but the interior is blocked off, with cobwebs and a dusty notice board advertising long-past concerts.

One can't expect too much in terms of live classical music in most third-world countries, but sheesh, throw me a bone here.