Travels with Hat

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For those of you who have met my dad, you will notice that he lives pretty much full time in his own head. He talks to himself, tells jokes to himself, laughs at his own jokes. We love him for it because we never have to entertain him, he entertains himself and, inadvertently, us. Once in a while, he lets us in on the conversation and it's a little like falling down the rabbit hole.

The adventure began when we met my parents and my brother, Raymond, in Hanoi. We were touring the city and went to a house in the Old Quarter that had been restored and turned into a museum. While we were wandering about, a woman dashed to the back of the museum and yelled something in Vietnamese. My Vietnamese is limited to ordering food at a restaurant but from her body language, she was urgently trying to stop my dad from doing something. Turns out that he needed to go to the bathroom and thought the recreated 18th century Vietnamese bathroom was the public toilet. He pretty much had his fly open when the woman stopped him from defiling a museum exhibit.

Yeah, he's the one who will sit on a chair in the Getty without knowing it's an antique Louis XIII daybed or something. We have to constantly watch out for him because he wanders off and gets into all sorts of trouble. It's like herding cats.

Then, we went to Halong Bay. As we were walking along the boardwalk, my dad looks over at these two really large rocks jutting out of the beach and remarks casually, like he's talking about the weather, "those two rocks look just like the ones in Malaysia where I tossed my two grenades."

What?

Raymond and I both do a little double take.

I ask him whether he had activated them. He said no, he didn't know when/whether they ever exploded. He brought them with him when we stole out of Vietnam...just in case...and then was afraid to turn them over to the Malaysians at the refugee camp.

I declined to ask whether he intended that the Viet Cong never take us alive.

So, if you are ever on a beach in Southern Peninsular Malaysia, keep away from the rocks!

Recently, he's taken to tooting his own horn. Literally.

He bought himself this little horn made out of a hollowed out branch for $1. If he wants a salesperson to hurry up or if he wants to get our attention, he blows it. It comes out sounding like a giant fart.

I told him that when (not if) he gets lost, he should keep blowing the horn until we can find him.

It's lojack, Vietnam-style.

As it happens, my dad (Peter) shares similiar tendancies (of the "road to nowhere", "fields burning out of control" fame). They both talk to themselves, live inside their own worlds and are dangerous with money!! So, we've decided that our youngest siblings, Martina and Raymond, in following with Asian tradition will escort our respective fathers around the world. We'll give each of them their own little horns.

Around the World with Hat and Pat.

Now THAT will be an entertaining blog. Good luck guys

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Comments

[Betina(Mar.s Mom]

wow
Love your stories.!!