Vandalism

Yesterday, Diep called me at work to tell me that someone had cut the thread in the seat lining of our motorbike. We both know that someone in the compound did this because, firstly, the bike is only a few months old and it is impossible that the seat ripped from wear and tear; and secondly, because we just rode the bike the day before and there was no rip.

We live in a gated community with guards that are supposed to watch the grounds and our vehicles 24/7. It is unfortunate that this is the second incident of vandalism and that in both incidents my primary suspicions lie squarely on the security guards. I have seen them sitting on our bikes and moving the mirrors around and I know they get bored in the middle of the night. I haven't figured out what it is about Diep or myself that makes them want to vandalize our things, but it is getting old.

The first incident, someone took the oil cap off and placed tiny rocks into the crankcase. I know it happened in the compound because the bike was brand new and we didn't have a tag for it yet. We were waiting for the tag when I rode the bike inside the compound and noticed the noise. Fortunately, the bike was under warranty and the mechanics fixed it free of charge. I also notified the management of our apartment complex to let him know he had a problem with at least one of his security guards.

So here I am just a couple of months later with a rip in my bike seat. When I reported it, the customer care representative listened with concern and has since agreed to pay for repair, but the security manager who was present tried to say the rip could have come from anywhere. I shut him down quickly. I know for a fact that the tear happened inside our compound and I am fed up with these lame excuses and everyone's inability to take responsibility.

Yes, in retrospect I was a monster. I felt like an ugly American... and, in fact, I have often let things go in the past for fear of appearing like an ugly American. But, after thinking about it, I see arguments here all the time. Arguments by the Vietnamese with Vietnamese for transgressions far less important than my bike seat.

Diep was happy I stood up for us. I was happy that she was happy, but I would much rather people just stay off my bike when I park it in the parking area. Life would be so much simpler.

Diep Couldn't sleep...

Diep couldn't sleep last night. This is not unusual, she often can't sleep and it usually has something to do with me. When I am away for work in some faraway place she lies in bed wondering what I am doing, who I am with and what nonsense I am up to. This is clearly a dilusional mind. In fact, I rarely go out when I am out of town and even when I do, I make sure I am a good boy... whatever that means.

Regardless of Diep's previous insomnia episodes, last night was not my fault. Or at least I don't think it was. I was in bed and trying to get some sleep, but she was bumping around downstairs. When curiosity finally got the best of me, I got out of bed and stumbled down the stairs. She was opening and closing cabinets, pushing around kitchen appliances, and generally making a good racket.

Turns out, she was on a roach hunt. Roaches are ubiquitous in Vietnam, as in most other parts of the world. Even Mobile had a goodly number of wood roaches scurrying around the house at any given time when we lived there. These were cockroaches, though, and Diep hates them... hates all roaches. She blames it on the apartment complex for not properly spraying for pests, but I see it as somewhat unavoidable, especially given that we live so close to the big West Lake.

So, Raid in hand, Diep had at it until the better part of 11pm and, at some point unbeknownst to me, slipped into bed. She had promised to play tennis with me this morning but claimed a headache. This was no surprise given the amount of Raid she was spraying in an enclosed area.

She conducted cleanup operations this morning. Clearing the battlefield of half-dead and fully dead roaches. The battle is over, but the war still rages on.