Thang Nguyen 555

Cultures on Collision Course

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With some short-term relief work in Asia/Africa and long stint in Telecom, Thang also earned a B.A. at Pennsylvania State University. M.A. in Communication at Wheaton Graduate School, M.A. in Cross-Cultural Communication at Gordon-Conwell Seminary, Boston. In addition, he earned a CELTA – classes taken in Hanoi for cultural re-immersion.

  • The You

    It’s like Who is on First, or the Who.

    It’s you who is the Who.

    You need to get the bugs out to uncover the better version of yourself.

    Everything up to this point is payload: family advices (ill or good-will), the institutions (and college loan) and work places.

    Some of us found out the hard way: friends at work are not friends, and friends off work cannot work together.

    We cater to popular taste (Aviator sunglasses, and soon Google glasses) or the opposite (I dare you wear those tie-dyed 60’s T-shirts).

    I am half way through Fraction of the Whole. The Australian writer charges out of the gate with a daring debut, hilarious and deeply philosophical.

    Australian fascination with Ed Nelly. But he raises a great point: how can you stay the YOU, when pressure for conformity (credit card approval within 60 seconds, Macy cards etc…) from all directions mold you into a WE (a number).

    I realise a striking parallel: in Vietnam, they ask you to buy a lottery ticket every time you sit down (and be a target). In the US, they ask you to open a credit card account every time you step up to a cash register.

    Baby boomers had one thing right: they question the system to which they belong. The minute we turned off our brains, we might as well be dead.

    We are where we are today because many men and women before us questioned the status quo (yes, wireless can travel the distance and through walls).

    Yes, Voice can be delivered over IP. Yes, video as well.

    Yes, yes, yes. Don’t tell me No,no,no.

    I don’t want to be the YOU. I am the ME. With strength and weakness, with burden to bear, and blessings to bestow (you too).

    Please stay the YOU, the better version of YOU. You will see. When everyone does that, we have a better world, if not more interesting.

  • No rest for the weary

    Saigon currently is under a shield of grey. The weary, the worried put on ponchos, just to take them off. False alarm.

    Oh Come Ye O Faithful blasted out from neighboring homes.

    Christmas is in the air. but not for those who make a living hand-to-mouth, and there are a lot them. Maybe this year is the year they can go back home to the countryside.

    At rush hour, on CMTT, I spot one blonde girl in a taxi, engulfed by thousands of bikes, inching for any empty space.

    The Western lady and the common folks, both try to get somewhere. But they are worlds apart (albeit separated by only thin glass). Even American felt hemmed in on narrow streets of Paris

    let alone being in this tight a spot.

    It’s symbolic of today’s Vietnam. You may find I-phone 5 and I-pad here.  You can even spot a celebrity now and then. But from their standpoint, even when it moves fast, it still cannot catch up with ROW.

    With rising expectation we find more crime on the street. I heard two incidents where people yell “cuop” (thieves).  Scooters chasing scooters. Not sure who was who.

    But on cooler days like today, with Christmas in the air, I hope for some rest,for myself and for the weary. For those who sell lottery tickets, those peddlers, recyclers, those who wear cone hats or contact lens.

    We even have a blind singer who shouts “We will we will rock you“.  May he have some rest before tonight’s show.

    It’s been hot here, with almost two weeks of drought.  You can see it in people’s faces.  Just find a shade, a tree, a breeze, a fan or a A/C room.

    Don’t judge (until you experience it for yourself) why people start drinking cold beer around 3PM.  Or the girls, traditionally prefer lighter skin, only go out late evening.

    With low GDP, high temperature and young work force, the combination hast been far from perfect albeit promising. As a whole, Vietnam has one thing in its favor: the future. For now, the analog generation is giving way to the digital.

    And it’s the latter who shall rule. First online, then off. For now, the weary keeps selling lottery tickets, sweeping the streets by hand, and even starting a fire by charcoal. Just to earn those three meals a day is hard work.  Just so the young can play games online. Can learn English. And occasionally, ride a Wet-and-Wild at nearby theme parks.

    Life is good.  The population is happy.  What’s a credit card anyway? I got my change back given to me in two hands. I respect that. Keep at it. Don’t lose it.

  • Noel decoration

    In front of Eden mall, Saigon, Christmas ornaments are on display. People here love to come and take pictures. It’s a tradition.

    It’s their annual pilgrim, blending East and West (Noel decorationas prelude to Tet’s celebration).

    Sidewalks still uneven. Tourists still trip over loosed bricks.  Yet they keep coming.

    The other boulevard (Ham Nghi) with Old Market (Cho Cu) steps up to the plate, serving as a de facto alley to Le Loi, now upscaled.

    Ham Nghi see all the buses, the technical school and retail shops for the natives. Le Loi, tourists.

    The tale of two boulevards, born of the same period, but serving two different constituencies.

    If I were a backpacker, Saigon to me would be a maze of alleys, of cheap beer and beds, knock-off goods at Ben Thanh Market and pirated CD copies. Backpackers would go on day tours to Cu Chi and Mekong Delta. Then I would never know how the rest of Saigon live and love.

    A stone throw away, people hang out along the stinky canal (Nhieu Loc).

    Exercise crowd early morning, and beer crowd late afternoon.

    Both backpackers and natives could live on a few dollars a day. But the two shall never meet.

    Different expectations, different outcomes.

    One just passes through (taking in the smell and sensation), the other stays put (dropping off and picking kids up at school).

    Then somehow, the week before Noel and Tet, they both conjoin, in front of a Nativity display, those pine trees and ornaments, with empty boxes underneath, but more guarded than bank vaults.

    Then both tourists and natives would smile for the cameras.  Smile to record the worried faces (will next year be a better one).

    The Sad Hymn is played on air, and the line sticks in one’s head “Noel nam nao chung minh co nhau” (Last Christmas we were together, but not this year).

    I had a friend who died last year right after Christmas. I still remember that Noel was his last.

    Sad Hymn. He used to play in the lobby of the Hyatt, just around the corner from those bustling decoration. This year, some pianist is taking up that spot, that gig, to blanket the place with classy “ambience”. Outside, throngs of tourists and natives continue to burn gasoline, cruising by to see those flashing lights. And Sad Hymn is played again and again (just like Silent Night in the States), but no one pauses to remember an old friend.

    Funny how the same decoration could trigger different responses from people, regardless where they are from. We are all passing by year after year after circling the Colonial French Round-about in front of Eden Mall.

  • The Filipino Invasion

    You will find a bunch of Filipino bands around Saigon, from Hard Rock Cafe to Acoustic.

    When the British rock bands gained noteriety in America back in the 60’s, the phenomenon was coined The British Invasion.

    Now Vietnam is experiencing similar invasion by their neighbors.  They got the language (English), the look (still brown-skinned), and the connection (E2 in cross-cultural distance).

    Acceptance rates have been high.

    You will find in Saigon clusters of APEC (Japanese Alley, Korean district , backpackers district and Chinese district).  The Filipino bands just show up, when it’s their turn to play.

    Rap and rock.

    All with long key chains, tight jeans and wool caps.

    Some Western faces were there in the audience. Beer choices are also varied, from Tiger to Heineken, Corona to Coors.

    To see Saigon of the future, you need to tap into this crowd.

    Kids who first are in step with the beat from strange shores, then to eventually be resettled there (Ivy League even). It happened to me with “California Dreaming”. Now, a bunch of my classmates are living there.

    This Christmas will see a wave of Vietnamese from overseas back for a vacation.

    Fuel to the fire.

    Rock on.

    The irony is the Filipinos who taught ESL in the refugee camps back in the early 80’s, kept staying put, while their Vietnamese students (the audience in this case, which often had a feel of a “repeat after me” English class ), moved on to America, where the British Invasion once took place.

    For now, while the set last, nobody noticed if you were black or white.

    Music unites. Especially when singers stick their mikes to the audience during the refrain “I try so hard, and get so far, in the end, it doesn’t even matter”.

  • Romancing Saigon

    Good luck! Bit it’s better  for you to wait until the scorching heat subsides, before you have a chance.

    There are layers to Saigon, like you would peeling an onion.

    Cafe Sua Da prices fluctuate from one street corner to the next.

    On the main tourist strip, you still find Zippo lighters and even dog tags next to pirated copies of Vietnam War classics.

    In fact, you don’t need to visit the museum of war (atrocities) to turn the clock back. The whole city could be viewed as a museum of war. The battle of ideology 1963, battle of Tet 1968 all took place here . Just walk the streets, you can relive the intensity of those struggles. Yet, in danger, there are romances. People live faster lives (translated to shorter ones). Self-immolated monk wasn’t the only one who burned himself to nirvana. Privileged youth are fast-tracking there as well, a phenomenon familiar to US “urban youth” (whose life expectation has  been rumored to be just above the legal drinking age.) Here, it’s already an improvement as compared to back then when widows and orphans were common.

    A plane load of orphans took off and crashed just before the city itself “fell” to the hands of victors.

    Now, you find bars. reincarnated versions of what used to be night clubs, hang-out places for GI‘s and their unspent payrolls. Today, beers popped open. Conversation started, most of which like two ships passing in the night. And young backpackers, many of  whom with Lonely planet’s guide, searching frantically to geo-ID themselves.

    Oh well, drop those guides. Follow your instincts. Live a little. risk a little. Romance it. Don’t expect everything is set.

    But then, what do you expect. War time might be over, but it’s still a “war zone”.

    Can’t miss that tank on permanent display at Independent Palace.

    Yes, you will find romance, but the price is to drop your guards, your expectations and prejudices. Saigon and Vietnam always reward seekers. But serious inquirers only. And the down payment is stiff, once paid in blood during the conflict.

    And pain lingers on. Someone has to pay for reparation. It might as well be you. And you, and you. Sorry to pass on the virus which I myself have contracted while romancing Saigon.

  • Music was saved

    When Steve Jobs came up with his 99-cent song idea, he saved musicians from the curse of piracy.

    It’s all in the ether. But musicians get paid, however long the tail. Better than nothing at all.

    More people get to hear those beautifully written pieces. I walked by a coffee shop yesterday.

    On its walls displayed the AKAI tape decks. A by-gone era. We used to gather around it to listen to Steely Dan‘s DO IT AGAIN,  again and again (ironically, we followed the imperative i.e. Do it again) .

    Musicians like George Harrison was throwing a concert for Bangladesh, wearing white suit, with his  rendition of “My Sweet Lord“‘s I really want to see you Lo.

    Something about being together, globally and ecologically.

    That was before the internet. Or else, with today’s broadband, more would have joined in with near-zero latency.

    We live in an exiting age, with technology at our disposal. But do we see huge crowdfunding that does humanity proud?

    I know, I know. It’s all ad-hoc now.

    Think global, act local.

    OK. I am all for green weekend.

    And Electric Vehicle conversion, one car at a time.

    But in the grandeur scale, we need a hero. Be they from the entertainment or sports, politics or business.

    Something is broken. Perhaps the spirit of togetherness, of committing to a cause larger than ourselves.

    Like Jobs, I do hope some technologists can come up with apps or simple business proposition that saves the music and saves the day.

    Simple solution. Less than a dollar. And let music sing. Not when we can still spare a dollar for the brother. DO IT AGAIN.

    PLAY IT AGAIN. I really want to see you Lo.

  • Advent and Apocalypse

    Parents prepare gift-wrapping and children get wish list ready for Santa.

    Suicidal souls worry that this would be their last season, or else they would die by default on Dec 21 or 23 , Mayan calendar apocalypse.

    What would we like to do in these short weeks?

    Finish those novels to know their endings?

    Send an encouraging note to a child?

    Cheer up an old colleague who is looking for work?

    I would pray long and hard, with sincerity. By that I mean, for about a minute.

    All else devoted to pounding the pavement.

    Major historical shifts always involved men and women of conviction, who acted.

    Their sense of self, of destiny and of timing in lock step.

    In denying self, they found it.

    In going to war resisting Evil, they found peace.

    In the end, they face death with dignity and sense of fulfillment.

    I remember reading Jobs’ biography around this time last year.

    How stirring it was.  Learning about his eccentricity and obsession about product quality.

    Now everyone wants an I Phone 5.

    I am sure it’s on a lot of people’s wish list.

    Even with Apocalypse pending.

    It’s Advent season.

    Both Advent and Apocalypse draw us to our knees.

    To realise there are greater things than ourselves.

    And we share those hopes and fears with others.

    It’s the season of sharing, of gifting. This year, of hoping we can see Dec 24th and open those wrapped gifts.

  • Matchmaking

    In Vietnam, one of the first questions is What animal represents you? (12 symbols of the zodiac).

    Second question is, how come you are single. Find someone to alleviate your miserable state of being single (collective society).

    Third and logical conclusion: find someone, whose symbol matches yours, yin-yan, fire and ice, earth and sky etc…

    I found this mechanism an easy way out, as opposed to Vietnam Got Talent, where candidates are picked base on their merits.

    What do you expect? You are known to others as son or daughter of so and so.

    This reminds me of the Museum of Innocence which recounts a story of a character who fell in love with his distant cousin. No where can you find individualism collide more with social more. He managed to collect even her hair to be displayed later in what he called, the Museum of Innocence.

    I found a public comb hanging in the men’s restroom at an ACB bank branch here in Vietnam. Apparently, it’s common property, to be shared among the men.

    Part of my missing education, was that by the time I was supposed to reap the benefits of all that our country had to offer e.g. matchmaking system, shared mores, shared pot of luck (guests would pitch in to jumpstart a new family), I instead launched cold turkey ino the culture of sports at Penn State, of extreme competition although we always chanted “We Are”.

    The “We Are” in Vietnam is quite different from the “We Are” at Penn State.

    The latter nailed Coach JoePa to be the fall guy (while it’s Sandusky who was supposed to be nailed).

    I am not defending the former “We Are”, nor do I accuse the latter.

    But in Vietnam, for example, a rape which occured within the four walls, stays within the four walls.

    The victim would rather be dead than seeing her family be put to shame.

    So life goes on. What’s your animal symbol?

    Use that comb. Shake off  the past. Forget and move on.

    You will never find a public comb in Penn State lockers, where We Are is the chant.

    But you will find it here.

    and maybe, even a suitable other-half, if you can answer the first few questions by the matchmaker.

    Oh, by the way, these days, they also asked if you had own a house. A scooter was a given. Just as back then, they assumed you own some buffalos to tend the field.

    My sister has lived a hard but productive life. As symbolized by the animal represents her.

    Mine? you guess. It’s the monkey. Jumping from tree to tree , culture to culture and not commit completely to one set of beliefs. It’s boring for a monkey to sit under the shade of just one tree in a forest full of them. It would bore him to tears. Scratching that ich all day wondering if the next tree might be worth the leap. Who knows, I might find happiness at the next bend, next road less travel. And if not, the journey itself is the reward.

    What’s your animal symbol? or Avatar? You see, each culture has its own way to move beyond one self. To break out of what’s given, what’s restricted.

    May you find your match, off or online.

  • No pure love

    I am half way through In the Garden of Beasts by Erik Larson. The book was set in the time of Hitler as viewed by an American ambassador’s daughter.

    She seemed to have a grand time: dating all sorts of men , even of at opposite end of the political spectrum; shifting and evaluating them with a fine-tooth comb. What makes this book interesting is that while Evil was reincarnated in grandest scale , we follow this “naive” and novel socialite in her insulated circle. Will there be Love? Lust? or Liberty?

    I can’t wait to find out the rest.

    But then, like any work of fiction, we project ourselves onto it.

    Will my life end on a high note? or simply fizzle out? Will I be stopped at One-Stop center in America. To learn how write a resume, to wear a tie, to shake hand, and pretend to exude confidence.

    When Martha, our central character, met briefly with Hitler, she found him neither charming nor charismatic.

    Yet as we now know, he personified Evil numero Uno in modern history.

    Pure race vs chosen race. Let the game begin.

    I am not sure who is chosen by whom.

    I just know that besides those suitable criteria i.e. age, appearance and aptitude, female species negotiate within themselves to find suitors  before the age of 30. In Martha’s case, the married Russian KGB man was picked despite his previous marriage and hers as well.

    I must conclude: there is no pure love, just as Hitler and Asia cohorts found out the hard way about pure race.

    Sorry to bust the bubble.

    Sorry to face this cold hard fact.

    Sorry to lower the curtain on Romeo and Juliet.

    People compromise standards previously set for themselves when a certain deadline occurs. Then, they hang “Sold” signs.

    In a social auction, the deadline dictates who the highest bidder is at closing time.

    Once on the hook, we got the salesman’s treat (to yesterday’s prospect): too bad, today you are our customer. Go see Customer Service.

    Yet we still hum those tunes, of love and purity, of sacrifice to the highest ideal.

    We long for yesterday (selective past) and better tomorrow (dream on).

    People hurting people, which triggered a chain of downward spirals.

    Those who try hard to Pay Forward, to build up a reserve of good will, often find themselves cheated.

    They look foolish, defeated and rejected.

    The heart is the last place we can see and understand.

    In the Garden of Beasts, we find our Martha in tow within her circle of SS men, Russian men and US men. Will this beauty find pure love in the Garden of Beasts, whose propaganda extolled pure race?

    Will we? Or should I give up and look no longer to the blue sky.

    P.S. Martha ended up with a wealthy American widower with a liberal bent.

    A synthesis between Boris and her Dad’s Privilege club. But then, they end up living in exile, on the run, in an European country she found estranged.  The End.

  • Reflections of my life

    ” I am changing everything” …Like Holden Caulfield, catcher in the Rye.

    “Oh I don’t want to die..”. The future that I once fret is my current present.

    “All my sorrows”….were for nothing. They said 90% of our worries didn’t materialize.  Yet we keep worrying. Like a plague. Dec 21st or 23rd (Mayan Calendar).

    Just shop til we drop ( even right after 9/11).

    The world is, a bad place, a terrible place to live (lyrics).

    The hardest part is to face and live with one’s self.

    Tend not to those urges ( self-sabotage and self-destruction.)

    Who planted them there? Those seeds? So the Earth would be less populated?

    Take me back, to my own home (Lyrics).

    Those GI‘s who listened to this song from a transistor radio, deep in the thick jungle of Vietnam. Have they often reflected on that experience? The Amerasian children they left behind? The bodies and chemical agents?

    Who won that war? Or any war for that matter!

    Perhaps both sides have lost.

    Lives destroyed, and environment contaminated .

    Bombs and napalms have fallen here when “Reflections of My Life” was at the top of the chart.

    A generation of young people were forced to grow up really fast, to reflect on death and dying, to ask hard questions.

    All my crying (lyrics)

    It hurts to face separation, from neighbors and friends. The comfort zone.

    Gone forever. Like a movie reel that got torn at one of the splices.

    Tran Hung Dao, the Sea General, was back to sea (his imprint was on the then currency). Dust comes to dust.

    In Vietnam, it’s considered “luck” to run into a funeral, not a wedding.

    Yet, with Christmas season in tow, I saw 2 weddings this morning.

    It’s peace-time Vietnam. The Wedding Hall is named “FOREVER“.

    More optimistic in outlook now.

    Fewer funerals, more weddings.

    Less “reflections  of my life”, and more “accumulation of stuff”.

    One thing is missing here: Black Friday shopping. That was because, American landed here back in 1965, Pleiku and not Plymouth. Hence  there was no Macy’s Thanksgiving parade. No turkey dinner. Just another weekend of laundry, coffee and a rare treat from the band. You can guess what they played here.

    Yes, Reflections of My Life.  Take me to my own home (lyrics). Holden Caulfield got expelled from school. Not wanting to go back home just yet. Just ride the rail, the taxi, and anything that moves, with no particular stop in mind. The journey is the reward.