Cracking the Uncrackable

Wait, wait - you're reading this? Harry Potter came out 5 hours ago, and you have the nerve, the unadulterated moxy, to put it down and explore my hapless musings on a country I don't understand? You've chosen to read the unending babblings of a stranger in a strange land? Wow - thanks! If you're looking for something deeply moving and inspirational, please read my good friend Dave's latest post - I'll try to provide a lighthearted alternative (my mission in life, as it were).

Alright, I've mastered the universe and I don't feel at all modest - why should I, when after days of pouring my heart and soul into Chile... I've finally rediscovered my stroke! Last night, continuing with our tradition of degeneracy, Thanh and I went to Carmen, Saigon's multi-story billiards palace, to shoot a couple racks of 9-ball. Carmen, like everything in Vietnam (and also like the girl with whom it shares a name), is awesome; a reasonable fee buys access to any of 50-or-so tables, including carom, three-cushion, and snooker (and of course tournament-sized pocket billiards), top-notch cues, AND... a friendly 20something to rack whichever game you'd like (9-ball, 8-ball, straight, crazy Vietnamese ones that don't have English names, etc.). This time, ours was especially friendly - a 22 year old named Cam Yen.

"So where's the lighthearted alternative? I've been reading for like 2 minutes and all you've told me is that you're a degenerate, which I already knew, that Carmen's awesome, which everyone knows, and that girls rack your balls, which I could've figured out myself!"
-You

Yes, yes - here it comes: Sometimes, I'm really on top of my game - my Vietnamese game, that is - but last night was not one of those times. For some reason, despite 4 hard weeks of training, the only phrase I felt confident fully articulating was "Gioi qua!" which means "Very good!" So, every time I pocketed a ball, I celebrated by proudly declaring, "Gioi qua!" (pronounced yo-eh-qua!). She held it in as long as she could, but by rack 8, Cam Yen couldn't stifle her laughter any longer. It came rushing out like a stream of soda from a pressurized can. Endless, endless laughter, resonating through the second story of Carmen, igniting a wave of laughter that somehow hit all the other female employees - who suddenly couldn't help but notice the silly White boy who was trying to speak Vietnamese. Then I started to think about what I was saying - "Very good!" after every shot. "Yeah," I thought. "If I heard someone yelling 'Very good!' over and over again, I'd probably laugh hysterically too. Did this realization stop me from doing it? Umm... NOPE! Fortunately, as the crowd of 2osomething Vietnamese women continued to mount, my game picked up to a point where I was running racks like Michael Johnson.

Man, that felt good. But seriously, and here's where those of you looking for a funny distraction can get off (and read something lighter - I recommend The Economist), it's terribly frustrating only being able to speak a tiny bit (mot chut) of Vietnamese. I'll elaborate later - Dave and I are gonna go enjoy some pho tai at Pho 24. Thanks for the read!