Tag: Asia

Cancer and Career

At Van’s Cafe Ho Chi Minh City, if you stayed til the end of their second set of music, you would no longer hear Truc Vy doing her closing songs. She performed her set last week for the last time. Despite her late-stage throat cancer, she gave her best with composure and courage. I did not know that at the time. Just noticed how much of that vocal grace could come out from so little of a body. Now I understood.

Cancer-causing death also took  my friend, an accomplished pianist, two years ago.

And last week, it started to put down the name of its next victim.

There is a new singer in that slot now at Van’s Unforgettable.

The show must go on, like life itself.

But how many would pause to remember  someone, frail and fragile, now under traditional treatment in the country side.

They say when someone sings, he/she opens up his/her soul to you.

Like at the Voice final last night. 4 finalists. Only one winner. But we saw four raw souls on display.

To the watching eyes of million.

Truc Vy perhaps won’t go down as a late great Rock singer in the Hall of Fame.

But her dignity and demonstration of the human spirit actually propels her to the top, however short a time.

In her end, her beginning.

Diva she is not.

But Death is not her enemy either. She seems to embrace it like a part of life, in this case, quite fleeting.

It lends new meaning  to each day, each note, and each number she performs.

Now I know where that inner strength was from. From her months of wrestling with the invisible enemy within her.

Like my friend before her who smiled more than I did when we  met for the last time.

And who gave me more advice and care than I could him.

Why does it take that much for someone to wake up, to be more humanized and appreciative of life!

For me, I notice someone’s absence more than their presence. Call it delay reaction.

But in looking back to my now deceased parents, whose DNA definitely stay on in me,  I learn one thing: their time with me when their lives and mine intersected, was a gift. I opened that gift and used it. It’s a one-time thing. Unrepeatable and fully appreciated only by looking back. “Your children live through you”, like a line in the last stanza of Paul Anka‘s Papa.

Life is such a trip that no one seems to get out alive. But while at it, we make the best of that gift, including the gift of music. In Truc Vy’s case, it’s her performance on stage, with voice riding over the loud instruments and clatter of toasting, to reign supreme in a class of its own. No, Truc Vy wasn’t a participant nor winner of the Voice last night. She was perhaps at home, in the countryside, viewing it  on live TV. But at Van’s Cafe, she will always be missed, especially when it’s time for the last set.

A set is not a set without Truc Vy. Please come back to me….in Casablanca or at the Cafe.

 

Goodbye Saigon, pt II

Another friend flew out for Thanksgiving.

There is no such a thing here in Saigon: oven-roasted turkey, croton and mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce , yam and apple pie.

Mouth-watering!  children running around and old folks reminiscing the good old days.

Yes, his destination has a few hallmarks of the American Dream.

Here in old Saigon, the only thing that changes is new names on old streets and schools (no longer segregation, so it came with a shock as I rode pass the old all-girl Gia Long High to see the new mix of male and female students)

My friend likes the quote from T.S. Eliot (In my end, my beginning).

He knows the Earth is round, and that at the end of his short stay in Saigon is the beginning of his trans-continental journey to America and Europe.

Before meeting him, I carry water and chop wood.

After meeting him, I carry water and chop wood.

But he left a vacuum hard to fill. Just like our mutual friend, before him (see Goodbye Saigon).

They have sons and daughter to attend to, paper work to sign and friends to play catch up with.

None of us gives up on Saigon. We all think the place deserves a make-over, a second chance (as if it needed our help and opinion).

Rated as most competitive in the nation, Saigon is quite poised to soar and regain its former glory (Pearl of the Orient).

Skyline and sea harbor, street signs and shops, all compete for clientele. Back-packers have a hard time configuring  their Google-map routes. But everyone here knows or are supposed to know where they are going.

Young work force pour over the key board, while street vendors peddle their wares (walking Wal-Mart).

When my friend was here, we used to sit at one of the ronde’s, French round-about, to feel and feed on the energy of bustling traffic.

Afterwards, we would retire to his quiet alley just a few feet away to recuperate. It’s exhausting and exhilarating at the same time to live the night life in Saigon. More bikes take up the space a few moments ago reserved for buses.

Years ago, they stopped allowing tow-trucks to come through before mid-night. So on this Thanksgiving eve, there is no Black Friday here in Saigon. Only window shopping and online shopping. Tourists find it refreshing to stroll the old boulevard, to discover names like Majestic, Continental hotels etc…

Time seems to freeze-frame here. And we took advantage of this to “re-enter” our past (as if it’s ever possible).

American pop songs overheard from retail shops can lure you back to a time when you were first in love or discover love.

Don’t give up on us, baby.

On the other side of the trans-Pacific flight, my friend perhaps is checking out his luggage, going through custom, with the reflexive greeting “Welcome home, mr Ngo”. I like America. When being addressed by Mr so and so, you know it’s official and that you have paid your taxes and your due.

Consumer confidence is returning with rising home prices in the Bay Areas. I hope it spills over across the pond. After all, Fukushima tsunami waves got tossed all the way to San Francisco bay. Why not this time around, with rising economic waters from the West. When my friend returns, he’ll know once again, his next stay in Vietnam would just like T.S. Elliot puts it, “in my end, my beginning”. No way around the inter-dependence and inter-connectedness of our 21st-century living.

Risks and Rewards

As the saying goes, you’ve got to enter the lion’s den to get the lion. No pain no gain.

Taking risks is not something for everyone. After all, we have all the safety measures built-in to our system: from seat-belts to “frisk-machines”.

Yet, in business as in life, risk is part of life, just like death itself.

Risk is associated with fear. When consumer’s sentiment is said to be “healthy”, it means people are more willing to borrow and invest. In short, to spend.

When it is low, it means greed is suppressed by fear.

Spint has just completed its purchase of Clearwire.

It has been a long ordeal.

Back in 1999-2000, these enormous acquisitions would involve much more risks, yet much less time.

(Ebert, number 4 Worldcom purchased number 2 MCI by stocks).

It was a wild ride.

Then the dot.com burst.

The key here is spectrum.

We move very fast on the ground (wireline) and in the air (wireless).

ICT on steroid.

With strong appetite for risks, which requires strong stomach as well.

No risks, no rewards.

In Asia, we got Singapore, India which showed strong leaderships, capable of risk-taking (social engineering and IT, respectively).

Before 1997 Asian crisis, these countries were looked upon as Miracles.

Leadership is lonely at the top.

Unintended consequences and the urge to take the path of least resistance will undo any bold moves.

If a leader has chosen all the safe paths since college (taking courses that would ensure an A, and a career that was well paid with least sacrifice), then the result would be leadership who is risk-advert.

Play politics.

Becoming all things to all men.

Catering to the whim and wishes of the majority to win votes.

That’s their rewards: popularity and being well-liked.

But risk takers have a different play book. Not foolish risk, but calculated one.

Gut-checking. With a lump in the throat. Screw it, let’s do it.

Those who take risks also face fear just like anyone else.

But went ahead and made the call anyway.

It’s called judgment and maturity.

It’s called, for the lack of a better word, Execute.

And it’s an art, with lots of practice and pain-taking efforts.

Not without consequences, among which unpopularity.

No risks, no progress (think of the Challenger).

Think of Marconi and his wintry towers.

Think of all-solar crosscountry flight (Amelia Earhart would be proud).

Think of Hoover Dam.

And millions of inventors and risk-takers who lost their shirts. And in the case of the owner of Segway, his life.

No risks, no rewards.

People w/ Purpose

When I read about a young girl who designed flip-flops and got picked up by Macy’s, I thought that was awesome.

My daughter thought the girl in White House Down was also.

Built-in and born with. That recognition of greatness, valor and something grander than one’s self.

We might not end up being one, but we can recognize it when we see it.

Self-actualization.

United Flight 93 passengers had not thought of themselves as heroes or martyrs.

But they have become in our history book.

People with purpose.

Not cogs in the machine.

But inventors of one.

The market is the most democratic place. People vote with their own pocket-book.

Those who don’t make it pass the Valley of Death, won’t be around.

Survival of the fittest.

ROI. COD. Billions of transaction daily.

See that need, pin it down. Think up a solution. Implement and Evaluate.

Out of the gene pool emerge People with Purpose.

Design a flip flop (after all, in the summer or in Asia, they are shoes).

Flag twirling? An extra curriculum? Use it when needed.

The inventor of the mouse (for computer program which was called CAT) has died.

He saw the coming of the computer age.

Jobs also. Sitting in a minimalist room, or even laying down, he came up with the I-Pad, a tweak of Notebook which HP had flopped and could never play catch up.

The purpose-driven life has a short span. It takes you into the zone, the Kairos, as opposed to Chronos, which inmates know damn well.

When was the last time you pick up a good book, and immerse yourself in it? Its narrative, plot and twist, laughter and sorrow.

Writers invent a world of their own.

With a purpose.

Raymond Carver observed the absurdity and agony of our modern age, albeit in sleepy NorthWest.

His short life did not seem to be a waste (spending away his Chronos jumping from one odd job to another, just to create and give us a chance to enter into his Kairos).

Where do I begin, to tell the story of ….People of Purpose.

You find greatness everyday. You just miss it.

Greatness doesn’t scream from the distance for attention.

It is hidden like in an acre of diamond.

Hidden jewel.

Awaiting discovery.

In most the unlikely place.

Like right here, right now.

And when found, it will get us to jump out of our seats. To follow its light. To be changed and be that force of change.

I like that little girl who designs flip-flops. Her age doesn’t come as a hindrance. It makes news.

Poor substitute

We are so connected (Google Fiber) and disconnected (from people) at the same time.

Starting with TV broadcast which reduces viewership from a theatre like in “Cinema Paradiso” down to a nuclear family in their living room, to a Youtube video download for personal  use.

With smart phones, we don’t have people knocking on the phone booth for their turn or get listened in on party line In fact, the screen has taken over what used to be folded newspaper on morning commuter train..

In Asia, where technology-sharing is common (fridge, TV, rice cooker etc…) we now see a great divide between the old and new generation, of those who are low and  high-tech. Technological divide piling on top of generation gap.

It’s a lonelier place out there, although we “friending” more. Hello World! Any one out there?

American homes are connected via all sorts of devices: from set-top to desktop.

According to a study, per capita work space has reduced drastically since devices are getting smaller yet can store more data or because people simply work from home (no longer at Yahoo).

You would think we should then have more space in the office for a couch or extra chair, so co-workers can just pop in and chat.

It turns out, all those devices are poor substitutes for the one real need: human connection. No wonder English people now turn phone booths into pubs (third places). That is a good substitute and good use of industrial waste. If only we know what to do with those first generation big-screen TVs (intended as Lazy Boy’s Cinemas).

Resolution Revisited

Remember ABBA‘s Happy New Year refrain? Seems so far away, yet so near.

Remember those resolutions? To finish a book, lose a few pounds and pick up a new skills?

Almost 80 days into the year. Even in the days of hot air balloon, people would  have finished circling around the globe.

There has been a few hot-air balloon accidents lately. But news of cruise ships malfunctioning seem to dominate prime time (hints: visual footage).

ABC Diane Sawyer mentioned that this was the year a new Pope was elected, but also, a year that flashing cameras (smart phones) illuminated the square. Diane was joined by Cokie Roberts who sat where David Brinkley used to sit (Senior Commentary spot).

Times certainly has changed in the town square, town hall and on the balcony.

Asia, Africa and Latin America sheer demographics dominate.

7 Billion and counting.

More conflicts and more chances to make it happen.

While our New Year Resolutions were meant to be personal, and only partly achievable, on the grander scale, we have seen the force of change usher in new actors on world stage in the first quarter of this year alone: new Pope, new President and perhaps new hot spots (N Korea).

Fasten your seatbelts, for late winter road condition is quite hazardous. We are not quite out of the woods just yet, until the last speck of snow gave way, to the chirping sound of Spring.

That’s when we can really renegotiate those goals, pick up a course online, order a book or try to fit in last year’s swimwear.

New Context New Narrative

When Starbucks opened its first store in Saigon, it must have been a big blast.

Centrally located, visibly in-your-face, upscale e.g. wifi and air-conditioned.

Early stage.

When I had my cup of Starbucks, like this morning, in a Virginian Mall, there was no fanfare, no fuss.

Late stage.

Same store and story (pour your heart into it) but in different contexts.

Geographical expansion, and brand extension (more international e.g. Starbucks on the Allure).

With each new day, we add-on to our narratives new twists and turns with challenges in between.

The story of Starbucks as a brand, or the stories of our lives as biographical history, both evolve and encompass elements outside of our control.

Good to great stories require comparable-in-size conflicts.

But for many of us, ambition and adventure are better lived out by actors on the screen than us on the street.

Still, experiencing the tranquility of an enclosed Mall vs the bustling round-about near Ben Thanh Market, I felt out of context.

My body is here, overcoming jet lag. But my mind still replay the sound and sight of Vietnam (where people obviously don’t need a coat or jacket).

I know the iced latte is more popular there, while in Virginia, in the winter, it’s the opposite.

And the tip? That remains to be seen.

To top it all, my sister ran into an old American GI who had been in Da Nang and Hue 44 years ago.

He couldn’t stop talking about his experience back in Nam.

Had he stayed on and waited long enough there, he wouldn’t have to come back across the world, in new context, for that cup of coffee.

I am sure when he first returned 44 years ago, he would have felt the same. The body is here, adjusting. But the mind is else where.  That’s how we are: facing similar set of challenges from the outside, but the interior reservoir and responses are different. It makes us different and unique. It is that pause, however long, between stimulus and response, that defines who we are e.g. Walmart door opens on Black Friday (stimulus), people push and jump for stampede (response).

Same Starbucks, two different localities. East vs West. “And now, the end is near, final curtain…. ” In our own way, each of us is a Star in this Starbucks universe. They can recreate the franchise anywhere, but there is only one you, in or out of context but only one narrative. Own it. Celebrate it and don’t forget to share it. Your personal brand is un-franchisable. It rocks!

Stories of Suffering

Unlike America where suffering is well hidden behind locked doors, here in Vietnam, it is in your face: lottery ticket sellers.

They could be an under-age child, a blind man, or the worst case, a young man who dragged himself (both feet paralyzed) along an extremely crowded street peddling tickets.

Even the Cu Chi tunnel, once hot and carpet-bombed, now welcomes visitors to its hollow chamber of suffering.  Underground resistance come clean.

To be here, to see those sites, to feel the heat, the smell, the suffering which might be raw to us, but taken for granted by everyone, is to face reality.

No pain killers, no aspirin.

Just raw sewage and suffering.

And when it heats up, in the middle of the day, you will know what it was like to endure, to persevere and to fight for survival.

A generation of leaders in politics and media have come of age: TV anchors (now retired) ambassador-nominee (J Kerry), committee head ( J. McCain) all had walked this ground.  One word that sums up Vietnam: HOT. Hot war during the Cold War, hot because of the heat, and now, “hot” is used for Retail during Christmas.

First-time visitors to Vietnam, from America, would step off the Cruise Ship.

Checked in an A/C hotel and showed up for tours.

He/she might find out at nearby bookstores that Vietnamese readers browse all sorts of literature from Russia, France, Japan, Australia, Eastern Europe and occasionally US.

In short, military powers don’t equate with cultural influence.

By 2030, studies reveal that Asia blocks and other emerging nations will share the various seats at the table. The dialog and discussions will be diverse.

The best outcome of America’s experience in Vietnam goes beyond the Powell Doctrine. It’s to produce a generation of leaders whose mindset now look beyond the surface (glossy), to the  suffering.

Cu Chi Tunnel or other tunnels. They are there to invite searchers and researchers to face and learn about other people, their aspiration and operation.

I haven’t yet taken that tour, but everyday, suffering is in my face. I shared a table with a blind man this morning over coffee. He stepped off a ten-person passenger vehicle (xe lam), found his way to the usual spot and lit up.

Then he pulled out a pocket-size radio for background music. I listened to that song (about mid-night mass rendez-vous) and felt what he felt: when your world is reduced to darkness and only darkness, you “dig” your way out of it, via other senses (touching and hearing). He used his fingers to measure the level when pouring his tea, while enjoying his portable music.

This was just one story of suffering. There are many more. If one cares and dares to face them instead of hiding them behind institutional doors.

From Mandarin to Model (Lung Dai-Chan Dai)

My generation have been a betweener one: from Mandarin to Mobile phone system, from French Colonial to Fashion TV (with Asia Next Top Model).

The saying goes like this “Vong Anh di truoc, Vong Nang theo sau” i.e. when a man passed the King’s exam, he went home to the village , with his lady in tow. Now, it’s the Model who get the gusto.

The Mandarin was supposed to quote from literature (like the old Hamlet), his back elongated from years of reading lying down. Now, it’s the Model whose legs stretch out on catwalk. Hence, from Lung Dai to Chan Dai.

Something is happening in Vietnam, very subtle and sensitive. Women assert  and insert themselves into traditionally male arena: homosexuality, clubbing, gang fighting, adultery, cougars, even robbing (as accomplices). Just stop short of having female wrestling.  The Girl with the Dragon Tatoo got translated and sold here.

Conversely, some guys went to Thailand for sex change.

It’s one thing to turn blind eye, in praise of equality. It’s another to acknowledge that with new-found freedom, Vietnamese women have yet figured out what to choose from the menu. The other night, I kept inhaling second-hand smoking from two young gals in an extremely crowded club (thankfully, those trendy cigarettes were slim).

Career? check. Stress? check. Marriage? no.

Kids? impossible (very cramp and tight space in Asia). Cosmopolitan? check.

In trading up their aspiration, they down-grade traditional mores.

Something must give. Tension abides in their climb to the top. Boy friend from the country side? Machismo? Spouse abuse? Out. Sugar daddy? Negotiable. Sugar Mamma? All the better and safer, with less complication.

Those who went abroad acquired sophistication and success (cosmopolitan). Those who stayed behind in the bubble, followed their instinct and insisted to have the cake and eat it too.

Change could go three ways: up and down in class, sideways when country side collides with city life, and speed of adoption ( women adapt more quickly with modernity than men.) With overseas travel, cable TV and internet,  the flat world pronounces mercilessly who the winners are (and the rest can just pack their bags, as in Next Top Model).

Vietnamese women, and counterparts around the world, walk the tight rope between: how to keep up a sense of self (motherhood and womanhood) in face of change (technology enabled and a more tolerant environment).

Don’t blame them for banding together for mutual support. (as of this edit, I am not sure Sandy’s book, Lean In, would soon be translated into Vietnamese).

Knowing this culture shift, one no longer is in shock when seeing women main-dans-la-main on the streets of Saigon. And those manifestations are just the tip of the iceberg.

The funny thing is, Mandarins are slow to catch on to this trend. Lung Dai-Chan Dai shift presents a dilemma. A very painful and irreversible one. Welcome to Mars, our next frontier for men and women. (Moon was mostly men’s discovery).  From here on out, it’s a two-way street for all.

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.