Tag: Culture shock

Joy of randomness

We move between chaos and control.

For those who experience Saigon traffic, the dance takes it to another level: randomness.

A tour bus made its final stop in front of a hotel. Tourists stepped down, immediately, with cameras (little did they know, traffic like this is all too common). Rain and randomness. Control and chaos, coexist.

That’s just one aspect of life in Saigon.

You might be sitting in an outdoor cafe, tucked in the corner table, still got sneaked up by a lottery ticket seller who lost both legs.

Even on a quiet night,  Saigon still has some surprises for you: a translated version of Wonderful Tonight, a circus show from China or a low-key visit by Entertainment’s Most Powerful couple: Angelina and Brad.

Saigon is standing in its former shadow, that of Paris of the Orient. Its skyline sees new addition every six months.

Consumerism of all shades puts on its best display (black and blonde mannequins).

Some guys even went to Thailand to have sex-change.

City life takes young folks out of the country and demands much less in social mores.

With chaos comes consumerism. With consumerism comes individualism. With individualism comes choices and frustration.

For now, the city is maintaining its equilibrium: buses weave in and out, parting a sea of scooters to pick up a few passengers.

Drainage capacity is pushed over the limits during rainy season.

And vendors claim whatever left of the already-carved up sidewalks.

I wrote once about a butterfly with its innocent dance in traffic. Now I realize traffic itself imitates the butterfly in its randomness . Here lies the key to crossing the streets in Saigon. Brave it! Don’t hesitate! Chaos, and not control.

First it’s stressful. Then it’s joyful. Once in a while, it’s painful (My xe-om driver made a 90-degree turn, and the scooter skidded. This destroyed my best dress pants, leaving a knee scar).

No pain no gain.

I guess by now I have gotten over the hump: reverse culture shock.

In academic parlance, I have gone semi-native.

Only when you stuck with it, that it made some sense: people do enjoy living here more than in the countryside.

Here, they can take classes, find jobs and get married.

More options, more choices.

Even amidst chaos, one can find joy in randomness. As unpredictable as a butterfly dance in traffic. I wish the place is a Hollywood set. But it’s far from it. Here the “extras” are the main characters. Or as in Roger Altman‘s genre, the place is the persona. No one seems to be in the lead. The city itself plays the lead role.

Trust again

People with bad experiences go through various phases in recovery.

Some need a lifetime. Others could trust again in no time.

All depends how the mind plays tricks. If pain recedes deep into long-term memory, then it takes longer to process pain.

Short or long-term memory, bad experiences stay. They surface on unsuspected occasion (Murphy’s Law).

Mine is about to happen again. The post-traumatic disorder. The pain of separation, of loss and of reunion.

It has been a long time . Long enough to look at it with academic detached eyes. Culture shock, reverse culture shock and personal acceptance.

No one can undo his or her past. No one can predict his/her future.

Only the moment. Cherish it. The usual. That predictable cup of coffee. A familiar face in the crowd. One simple joy of a child’s smile. Trust again.

Music often evokes those feelings e.g. a broken relationship, a lost connection.

Pain of an unraveled relationship.

People hurting people. Policies that destroy instead of building up.

Mistakes committed and opportunities lost.

We fear not new things. We fear that new things will evoke or add to bad memories.

We project the past unto the unknown. We no longer want to take risks.

To trust again.

Could that place, this person do me any good? Or just harm?

Leave me alone and let me retire to familiar pain.

Institutions often fall into this trap as well. Back to basics. Back to safe practices. Operating on marginal cost etc….Yet as counter-intuitive as it may seem, to survive, institution and individual need to take risks (The Innovator’s Dilemma).  Life is like riding the bicycle, so you need to keep moving ahead, says Einstein.

So I charge ahead. Trust again. And say a prayer. This morning. This moment.

This very day. That’s the only moment in time I am granted to grow and learn. And to trust again.

reverse culture shock

After a transitory lay over at a third country, I found myself in one of the entry points, in this case, Atlanta:

Southern hospitality, chicken recipe, and of course, airport price tagd. Ten bucks, with no drink. Welcome back, Mr Nguyen.

I prepare my breakfast now. No longer a Saigon sitting down on a low stool, ordering broken rice and pork chops (with fish sauce and hot chili pepper over it).

Instead, breakfast consists of oatmeal, coffee and grapefruit juice. All the supposedly healthy diet for sterilized living.

The news said we were pulling out of Iraq, but no we don’t. Thousands will be staying behind until next year.

Blair is still the un-appointed spoke person on the subject, and even foreshadowing the next war.

This long holiday will bring back workers who are exhausted, consumers who are burned out and soldiers who face labor-surplus economy.

Even the Web is purported to be dead (Chris Anderson of Wired Magazine). In its wake, we found thousand of offsprings aka apps.

In telecom, we thought caller ID was an intrusion. Wait until call centers crawlers pulled up every bits of credit info about you and I before we got a “hello, may I help you”.

It will be caller FICO.

It wouldn’t be strange if the fast food industry started to size their serving according to customer’s profile the way Coke added sugar according to regional preferences:

larger burgers in the South, trimmer ones for NY City, for instance. BK was sold for a whopping 3.3 B yesterday. Location, location, location. Instant access to thousands of location worldwide, near McDonald’s. K Mart, even during bankruptcy, still made a profit on prime real estate.

Back to reverse culture shock. I got up early, way early this Labor Day weekend. In the dark, I wondered where I was. Then I realized things haven’t changed a bit. All those awful stats such as 4% unemployment back in 2000, now nearing 10 in 2010 etc… Land of the free. There are tons of work to be accomplished, but Congress is not going to take on serious tasks before going home. So they say. I went to a Metro PCS store just to be sent home at 9:15 AM. Sorry, HQ won’t open until another hour (KS).

I understood Metro to be a MVNO, hence no instant access to Sprint central computer. I understood America original design of checks and balances. I understood the victimized mentality of citizens facing big bureaucracy. Speed of change varies according to institutions. But it is still a shock to come back to a place where services are not up to standard, but pricing remains at yesterday’s high. We are trapped in a time warp, thinking we are still in post-war period, when the GI bills will make everything OK for returnees i.e. a Chevy in the driveway, and a chicken in the pot. Well, look at car sales figures. GM predicts worse sales, and of course, BK was sold. It is the equivalent of Pepsi on the chopping block.  Give me a few more days. I hate it, but will have to get used to it. Remember 2000 and Y2K? Every decade comes with its own black eyes.