A Trip to the Doctor

Ahhh – the teacher’s first cold of the new school year.  I always hope to stave it off as long as possible, but it does usually hit before the end of October.  I was quite surprised when I headed to bed one night before the 15^th feeling incredibly achy in my joints.  It went on for 2 days.  Could I be getting an early flu already, I thought.  Within two days it was clearly a chest cold.

What a situation!  The constant presence of air conditioners means breathing that sort of air, while being outside means breathing that polluted air (8.6 million people here and well over half of them have a motorbike).  To NOT have the air conditioner on, well, that’s like living in a sauna.  Do I really buy 3 fans?

I drank lots of water.  I put the all-purpose Tiger Balm on my chest (staining my precious nightgown – precious because wearing the same pajamas every night for 3 months makes a new nightgown very precious).  I slept with my chest and head elevated.  I refrained from working out, getting as much rest as I could.  I went to bed early.

After 10 days, I went to the doctor.  I went online to request an appointment.  I could probably call, but it is so easy to just fill it out, send it in (with a specific time request, in my case, Saturday morning).  Within 24 hours I had a confirmation of an appointment.  There is a “western style” hospital/doctor “less-than-100,000-dong” taxi ride away.  It is a multi-building, multi-level place.  I went a few weeks ago to see a dermatologist (monitoring the spots that seem to suddenly appear, and always seem to end up being “age spots”).  I had my patient card, so was able to proceed to the 

Pulmonary section on the 3^rd floor.  No matter what you are there for, once you are checked in, a nurse weighs you and checks your height (I grew 3 cms at the dermatologist office, but only 1 cm at the Pulmonologists office).  She also takes my temperature and blood pressure.  Everything normal.  I saw the doctor, who spoke broken English, but he listened to my chest (which is what I wanted) and sent me to get a chest x-ray (which I wanted if he felt it was needed).

Off to another part of the hospital.  Check-in (they knew I was coming).  Sit down.  Get out book.  My name is called.  Stand up.  Technician looks at me.  Looks at my chart.  Bursts out laughing.  “You are not Korean.”  I will provide people with plenty of laughter with my last name and my looks in this country.  

I was sent to the nicest hospital changing room I ever experienced.  It had lockers with keys for my clothes.  The gown I had to put on was easy to figure out, just slip it on over my head.  No need for embarrassment about whether the opening goes in the front or the back.  X-ray done, I headed back to the doctor.  

The waiting area had filled up considerably, but I didn’t get 2 pages read before I was called back.  Sometimes I wonder if being a foreigner means you automatically get to go first.  Prognosis: Acute bronchitis.  He said the weather would exacerbate it here.  Weather?  I remember the weather of northern Europe giving me problems with bronchial issues – but this heat and humidity?

I waited over an hour for the prescription to be printed.  The receptionist came twice to apologize for the delay – problems with the computer.  Eventually I was called to the cashier’s desk, given my prescription, x-ray, receipts and told that insurance covered everything.  I was told to go to the ground floor to get my prescription.

There, I had to take a number.  I couldn’t take the priority number, I had to take the regular number.  It was a wait of 15 numbers, PLUS the priority ones (so much for that foreigner theory).  I got to the desk, gave my paperwork over, he produced a basket with all my medicines and proceeded to tell me what to do with each.  Antibiotics for the infection, anti-inflammatory for the inflammation, and cough syrup – don’t drive after you take the cough syrup.  Insurance covered everything.

I walked away with a big envelope of papers, a bag of medicine, and didn’t have to pay anything.  I looked at the receipt and discovered the antibiotics cost more than the chest x-ray (imported drugs). 

Here I am, one week later, certainly not as sick as I was then, but still with that tickle in the chest that makes one cough.  I was able to convince the landlord to get the air conditioners serviced, so now I’ve got a bit cleaner air to breath at home.  I wore one of those respiratory masks while I waited for the bus this week.  I think I just have to see what adjustments my body makes.

But hey, what about that insurance coverage?  I can’t tell you how much it costs me per month, because it doesn’t seem to be deducted from my pay.  It must be some good coverage though.  I have a colleague whose husband spent 30 days in ICU last month.  It didn’t cost a thing.

(Sorry no photos - but I hope you can imagine the motorbike parking lot at the hospital)

There are bills to pay

The local currency is known as dong.  Today’s exchange rate is 23,320 dong to 1 U.S. dollar.  There are no coins in Vietnam.  All forms of official currency are paper.  The smallest bill I’ve seen is 200 dong (0.0086 cents) not even worth a penny.  They won’t take them on the bus.  They will accept 500 notes, but not 200 notes.  The largest bill I’ve seen is 500,000 dong (about $21.50).  An easy conversion (as described by a Math teacher), take off four zeros and divide by two. 

Thus, our monthly rent of 15,300,000 dong would be (take off 4 zeros, divide by 2) $765.  Hmmm, too high.  Rent is closer to $650.   Note to self: formula doesn’t work as well with higher numbers.

So what do monthly expenses look like?   Rent, electricity, water, gas, internet, drinking water, management fee, phone.  August wasn’t a good example because it included part of July charges on most bills.  Now, as the end of the month approaches, most things are on a cycle I can interpret.

The management fee for the apartment is 1,158,300 dong (about $50).  I don’t know exactly what this covers, but I do know maintenance came this week to fix a broken window, the locks on the sliding doors, and drill holes to hang all our photos.  This appears to be part of the service.  We do have a security guard at the front door to the complex.  Someone cleans the marble hallways daily.  There is a garbage collection point on each floor, that never appears to be overflowing.  The empty boxes from last week’s shipment were flattened, left outside the apartment door and disappeared.  We have 4 working elevators.  The use of the pool is free.  I am alright paying $50 for all that.

Water in the apartment – remember, only the bathroom has hot water.  The monthly bill for that appears to be 82,915 dong.  That is $3.50.  I guess I don’t need to try to shorten my showers to save money.  I wonder what that one bath I took will cost me.

Gas – the two burners are the only items in the house that use gas.  It seemed like a real feat in Ankara when the gas canister did not have to be replaced the entire time I lived there.  Thus, I wasn’t at all surprised when a replacement gas canister was needed in the first month here.  Karma.  Unable to figure out exactly what number to call, I took a photo of the canister and went to the security guard at the front desk.  He called the gas company and a new canister was delivered (and hooked up) in less than an hour.  It appears to be about 20 liters of gas (about 5 gallons) and cost 397,000 dong ($17.00).  It could last 6 months or more, perhaps a year.  It all depends on how much cooking is done.

Internet – I’m still trying to figure this one out.  All I know is a guy rings the bell, says, “Internet.”  I pay him money, he gives me a receipt.  We have internet.  This is 302,000 dong ($13.00).  Hmmm – I wonder if that includes some kind of cable fee that isn't being used.

Phone – we both have cell phones.  One of us only turns HIS on when he wants to make a call.  The other one went with a 3G package in order to have internet use when away from the apartment and without wifi.  In places like, uh, the bus (love that bus app).  This is another bill I’m trying to figure out.  There was the initial charge for a SIM card.  I can’t remember that one – maybe 100,000 dong.  I reached the end of my first month of usage and went to put more money on my account.  This was quite an adventure.  I know I can buy the codes at the local convenience store, but I evidently was saying the wrong thing.  They wouldn’t sell me anything, despite the 200,000 dong in my hand.  A colleague who lives in the building came to help me.  I got a piece of paper with a series of numbers on it.  She knew which ones to enter … and I had another month of coverage.  As I recall, it is about 80,000 dong for the 3G plan (that I don’t come close to using).  That is less then $3.50.  Every person in Vietnam has at least 1.2 cell phones, so there is pretty good coverage.  My theory is they didn’t get the phone infrastructure up before cell phones took over.

Drinking water – I am trying to increase my water intake to avoid the inevitable swelling in this heat and humidity, so an 18-liter bottle is emptied about every 4-5 days.  Thus, every 10 days, water needs to be resupplied.  One phone call, one hour later, two bottles of water delivered to the door, 95,000 dong ($4).  Drink more water.  In addition to straight drinking water, it is also used for ice cubes and making tea – but not boiling eggs or rice.

Yes, I have been saving the big one for the end.  Electricity.  You know what uses electricity?  The air conditioner.  So far, it is a rare occasion to be in the apartment without the air conditioning running.  Those gorgeous cooling afternoon monsoons don’t really bring the temperature down THAT much.  At least, not on the 7^th floor.  The first full month of electricity was 1,805,042 dong ($ 77.00).  Hey, at least it wasn’t over 2,000,000.  Perhaps as “winter” sets in, it will cool off, and I won’t want air conditioning all the time.  One can always hope.  I admit, I do prefer sleeping with a light blanket than waking up dripping in sweat, feeling like I’m in a sauna (don’t laugh, it happened once last week when I went to bed and forgot to turn on the AC).

So, all in all, a relatively cheap cost of living.  It is also well within our housing allowance.

 

Health care costs?  That’s a different blog post.

Our stuff is here! Our stuff is here!

In the world of international teaching, one of the highlights of starting at a new school is the arrival of one’s shipment, or as it would be known in the U.S., the arrival of the movers.  

I was skyping with our daughter yesterday morning, when the doorbell rang, knowing it was our shipment, she excitedly told me, “go, go.”  Eight minutes later, the movers left and we were alone with our boxes.  A bit like Christmas is the best way to describe it.  I know what is in all those boxes, but opening, unwrapping, and seeing them - it brings such joy.

It was just over 15 years ago that we sold our house in Newcastle and moved to Moscow.  It was an adventure, emptying the house we’d lived in for 6 years.  It was a great garage sale experience.  Everything was either $5, $1, or 25 cents (it meant even the soon-to-be First Grader could give change).  The second day of the sale, everything was 25 cents AND buy one get two free.  We made $300 at that garage sale (and it gave the kids $150 each to spend at the Lego Store in Moscow).  We put a number of things in storage, including the car (because the only available storage units were big enough for a car).  It was a move that involved over 150 boxes being put in a container on a truck that drove to Denver, where the container was put on a train to San Francisco.  It was then transferred to a ship that went through the Panama Canal and ended up in Hamburg, Germany.  There, it was loaded on a truck that drove to Moscow.  Yes, everything arrived safely, apart from the glass lid of one very large container that held ALL the cookie cutters.

Thus, I was thrilled, in June, when the shipment that left our apartment in Ankara was 15 boxes, which was half of what we’d brought to Ankara.  All 15 of those boxes arrived at our apartment in HCMC yesterday.  Nothing was broken or missing.  As would be expected of empty nesters of our generation, we should be downsizing.  I’d say we’re doing pretty well.  Shoot, even the storage unit is smaller now (availability of a smaller unit and getting rid of the car enabled this). 

It was over 3 months of “living out of a suitcase.”  That’s right – for 3 months, we’ve been wearing (most of) the same clothes.  We have been to a tailor here to get some extra pants made to see us through.  Neither of our sizes are readily available here, but tailors are relatively cheap.  I was most happy with alternative night clothes, and getting dressed to go to work on Monday will be a joy – so many choices.

As can be imagined, we have to prioritize the things that go “on the ship” and the things that stay with us.  We even prioritize what goes in carry-on vs. checked bags.  Then, when the shipment arrives and we unwrap things, there’s a moment of “why did I let that go on the boat?” as well as, “ahh, it arrived safely.” 

I try to keep my teaching things to no more than 2 boxes – and a lot of that is books.  At this school, I will have to complete paperwork before I take any of my personal things to work.   I’ve reduced the cookbook collection to only 2 (Pinterest is my source for new recipes now).  The collection of sewing/quilting/needlework books has slowly dwindled as well.  S2 sorts his ties into ones that go into carry-on (ones that our daughter made for him or he wore to something special, like our wedding or his mother’s funeral) and ones that go on the ship.  I take my jewelry with me, but send my collection of jewelry boxes on the ship.  Our daughter’s original art work travels in checked baggage (and has already been framed here).  All medical records, banking records, tax records go in carry-on.  The hat the children wore as toddlers and the pair of socks they both wore when there were born goes in carry-on. 

With each move, I tend to declare that I will NOT be moving this much fabric the NEXT time.  I had three major quilting projects that I finished in the final months of Ankara, which certainly contributed to my fabric reduction, but, I did quite sneakily argue for the use of my fabric stash as packing this time.  There it was yesterday, surrounding S2’s bike trainer (his hobby vs. my hobby). 

This move was the first to the tropics.  My team leader had prepared me for the wardrobe transition of such a climate.  She pointed out while she never wore socks, she did need some cold weather clothes for traveling.  I tried to adjust for that but unpacking the lone pair of jeans and the three sweaters yesterday seemed odd, let alone the leather jacket, winter hat and gloves.  I have to remind myself that I could end up NOT in the tropics for conferences or accreditation visits. 

I left Ankara with 3 pairs of shoes, picked up 3 new pairs over the summer, but mainly use the same 3 pair here, but unpacking 8 pairs of shoes yesterday was a “why did I pack this?” moment.  I can’t imagine wearing tights or nylons here, consequently some of those shoes will never get worn unless I go somewhere else.

A surprising pleasure this time was the arrival of the mugs we’ve deemed appropriate to travel by ship.  We’ve been without cups with handles, which makes having hot drinks a challenge.  Why buy new ones when we had some coming?  So that cup of tea this morning was exceptionally fun.

A new part of this experience, was sending photos to the kids via WhatsApp as I unwrapped treasures.  They humored me through it all – the iPod dock (we can hear our music now), the measuring cups (that we’ve had since before they were born), the jar of shells they gave me for my 47th birthday (from the coast of Italy), and the collection of Beanie Baby Birthday Bears.  I pointed out we need a Septembear to represent our new daughter-in-law.

The Bus

We had our first visitors this week.

     

That's a baby gecko, scared to even move, on the left.  On the right, a mantis I saw on the balcony, whose every movement was watched by 4 VERY adult geckos.

Our regular Saturday morning outings rely on the public bus.  There is a stop right in front of our apartment complex, making it quite easy to utilize the incredibly, reasonably priced (30 cents) air-conditioned services.  The route goes directly to what is commonly known as the city center, or more accurately, District 1.  From there, a plethora of buses can take one nearly everywhere, or at least, wherever we’ve needed to go.

  

It is quite easy to use the public bus.  I merely wave at the bus as it approaches.  The driver pulls over to the side of the road, motorbikes weave around it, and the driver opens one of two doors, expecting me to jump on as quickly as possible, as he prefers not to come to a complete stop.  Depending on how far over the driver has brought the bus, I may have to weave in and out of motorbikes passing on the right side of the bus.  The attendant, who collects the money and passes out the tickets, often points to the seat I should sit in.  My age seems to provide me with this service, although it might also be because of my status as a foreigner.

Some buses have an incessant recorded chatter, presumably announcing stops.  Others have complete silence.  There is a button to press to indicate I want to get off at the next stop, but I always seem to be the only one who uses it.  The attendant seems to know when people want off and announces to the driver to pull over at the next stop.  At times, it seems like as soon as I press the button, the driver pulls over to let me off.  I suspect they are trying to be helpful, thinking I don’t know what I’m doing.

The front most seats require one to step up to the driver’s raised area.  Everyone always takes their shoes off when they sit in those seats.  I suspect it has something to do with how close one is stepping to the driver, whose work area would then have dirt or mud on it.  Or it could be that it is harder to clean that part of the bus, and thus, shoes come off.  Yesterday, we stepped up to take front seats, removing our shoes before we did so.  It was as if the driver thought we were movie stars.  He was so ecstatic.  He clapped, gave us a thumbs up, gave us both a piece of candy, and seemed to sing our praises for several minutes.

I use an incredibly helpful bus App to orient and navigate our public bus excursions.  I was dutifully watching it as we rode this bus into District 5, so I would know when to indicate we wanted off.  I seemed to take the driver by surprise when I tapped him on the shoulder to indicate we wanted off.   There seemed to be some hesitancy at letting us off in this neighborhood, but he agreed, and was happy to return my wave when I indicated we were safely on the sidewalk.  We were less than 20 meters from our destination, the place we sought to service S2’s hearing aids. 

I got on a bus by myself yesterday, as I went in search of a specific sewing machine store.  I seemed to cause quite a fuss as I heard a lot of chatter, followed by silence, and a middle-age woman gently tapped me on the shoulder.   “Do you need any help?” she proudly asked.  I wondered if the people on the bus were concerned about me.  I was alone.  It was starting to get dark.  It was pouring down rain.  I have no idea of the ultimate destination of the bus, I just knew it went by the shop I wanted to go to.  I assured her I was fine, there was a shop I wanted to go to.  Once I indicated I wanted off, it seemed like the whole bus was going to make it happen.

The buses are a great venue for seeing things.

Yesterday I saw a motorbike piled high with pillows (30 or 40?) weave in front of the bus.  Another time there was a motorbike loaded with 40 flats of eggs.  I saw a store with the name “Gun Shop” and the sign in the window advertising their product – “Condoms.”  You can imagine my surprise the day I saw the Saigon Harley Davidson outlet.  Shoot, from the bus you can see store-bicycles!

People take a lot of different things on a bus as well.  You are subject to buying an additional ticket if you have a large suitcase.  Once I saw what appeared to be a woman's whole store of cheap, plastic toys with her.  Yesterday, I saw a spare tire being transported.  It wasn't a motorbike spare tire, it was a full-fledged, shoot-that-could-be-to-an-earth-mover spare tire.  When a second bus had one the same size, I figured it might be the spare tire to the bus.

Other highlights from yesterday:

The gathering place of those who like to show off their songbirds.

The seafood section of the open air market - 

We went to the used bicycle street in search of bicycles.  I'm not sure why these chickens felt compelled to gather under the bikes.

Uh-oh ... used book store

Yes, I think they are making some sort of industrial size sink.

It is possible to buy a bicycle and transport it home via motorbike.

We were on the book street when the rain started.  Before 10 drops were heard hitting the overhead canvas, the plastic sheeting was being pulled out to cover the book displays.

I am still learning and enjoying so much.  And ... work is going very well (in case you were interested).

This and That ....

I just wanted to document a few things ...

Yes, I do live in a Communist country.

And we do have things like expensive cars, and we need things like, uh, car umbrellas.

And a number of multi-nationals are present ...

  

That is Durian flavored blizzards at Dairy Queen (durian has been described as eating strawberries and cream in an outhouse).  Those are Dunkin' Donuts donut holes.  And yes, those are M&Ms and Hershey's kisses that are in sealed cases - so no one will shop lift them.

But, we have our local side as well:

The water delivery motorbike

The restaurant on a motorbike

I was caught in the afternoon monsoon rain yesterday.  So I took some photos to document it.

First, from the bus, I saw this shop accounting for the expected rain.

This was taken just before 4 PM.  Note the headlights on! And the lack of light coming from the sky.

In general, the show must go on, whether it is deliveries,

Or trying to get to grandma's (how many legs do you see on that motorbike?)

Or, if you are going to make a right turn at the light and traffic is backed up ... just use the sidewalk to get to that corner ...

And, or course, the street vendors have to take shelter ...

I stayed under the awning for at least 15 minutes before I ventured out to meet the friend who was doing the same thing across the street.  Once it "let up" or, before the "lake" at the curbside got bigger, I went to join her.  We waited another 15 minutes in the marble counter top shop before heading to the restaurant (Indian) we were going to for dinner.

I had to take one last shot at the corner.

We have a holiday tomorrow - no school.  It is Independence Day - 70 years of Independence!!!  Prompting me to wonder, who were they gaining independence from 70 years ago?