Three Dimensions

It was only a matter of time before Thanh and I discovered that we’re both degenerate card addicts. A couple weeks ago, we sat down and taught each other a few of our favorites only to realize that one of his was essentially a more complicated and analytical version of one of mine. If No Limit Hold’em is chess, Chinese Poker is chessboxin’ (for my gangster audience) or three-dimensional chess (for everyone else). When I was in Vegas last November, I saw Minh Ly (coincidentally Vietnamese) and Eli Elezra playing this crazy game with “a billion” cards in the high limit section of the Bellagio poker room. At the time, I figured the game involved more betting and higher stakes than any of poker’s more conventional forms. But then I reasoned that my analysis was based on cultural biases about Vietnamese and decided that Chinese Poker was probably nothing more than a fancy term used by upper-echelon poker pros to differentiate themselves from average idiots like Adam Kol, Mike Horn and me.

Well, turns out I was right the first time; Chinese Poker, unlike the Chinese country, is the greatest game ever created. Thanh and I usually play right before bed (it’s unethical to take sentences out of context and put them on Facebook and/or AIM), and lately, I’ve been on a hot streak. I figure it’s only a matter of time before he breaks one of my arms while I’m sleeping. Until then, however, I prefer to put myself in harm’s way elsewhere, mostly notably on the backs of this city’s million-or-so motorbike drivers (Xe Om in Vietnamese). It’s on these brief adventures that I conjure up all the nonsense you see every time you log onto my blog – and here’s the latest:

I didn’t lead off with an anecdote about Chinese Poker just because I’m a degenerate – well, maybe I am… and maybe I did, but there’s a point: the only thing comparable to the flow of traffic in Saigon is three-dimensional chess; it sounds and looks really cool, nobody understands what’s going on (not even the players), and one wrong move might end you (sotto voce). But in the end, everything works out (and even looks brilliant). Some of the phrases I’ve come up with while riding around: “an orchestra of cacophonous horns”, “a strange traffic equilibrium”, “incentives and instincts”.

As I was walking out of the Vietnamese Language School, just before catching a ride home with my favorite Xe Om, I turned on my iPod and looked for a song that matched both my mood and the mid-day atmosphere. “Award Tour” by A Tribe Called Quest; worth a try, right? I rode home in complete and total ecstasy. It made me realize how much I love the different phases of my day in Vietnam: shadowy mornings with coffee from my beloved Lam and Sam, afternoons in coffee shops listening to businessmen moving billions of dollars; evenings with friends at fancy, underpriced restaurants; nights at bars throwing back beers I wouldn’t be able to drink in the states. I also started to think about something a Japanese businessman told me a few days ago. He was complaining that Vietnamese workers refuse to think for themselves; “they’ll do everything I say… but nothing more!” It’s funny how a trait that was once bred, lauded, and replicated is now generating complaints from the people responsible for driving Vietnamese growth (foreign investors). More on that later. For now, time to play tennis with Thanh and down some Pho Tai (Pho with beef brisket). Thanks for the read!