Tag: Ho Chi Minh City

10,000 hours

How many among us actually put in that many hours pursuing one thing?

Yet studies show it takes that much practice to master a skill or a trade.

That long to promote ourselves to the rank of outlier : Bill Gates coding skill, the Beatles smooth performance etc…

Today marks my first 10,000 views of this silly blog, which I started as an experiment, to see if the Recession would break or make me as in Hemingway‘s Farewell to Arms “the world breaks them all…but we remain strong in broken places”.

I started blogging when I was married, until I am single again for two years.

It remains my focal point and commitment. To fail time and time again, and stand up if not standing tall.

I am sure the Beatles learned this lesson. They put it in the lyrics of My Sweet

Guitar Gently Weeps “with every mistake, we will surely be learning”.

As adults, we  shy away from trying out new things, meeting new people and going to new places.

We take the path of least resistance. I have friends who keyed down the karaoke coding for their song list, and started to punch them in while the rest of us fumble through the dirty pages of its song book. Apparently these people just want to stay within their range and comfort zone.

I understand the fear of the unknown.  I am living it everyday: from motor-biking on the streets of Saigon, to meeting new faces.

I often found relief, culturally, when going indoor, air-conditioned and culturally conditioned (English-speaking, pipe-in music, and preferably with a menu I can order from without hesitation).

The American part in me must be the true Quiet American, seeking and embracing the Third Force.

Neither here nor there. So sometimes, I escape to my cocoon.

Expats who came here from the Philippines, Singapore and America express similar sentiments.

They are a bit homesick. Like during this time of the year. White Christmas and Oh Holy Night.

It gets cool here but not winter cold. I still put on my shorts and T-shirt, sandals and helmet.

Perhaps it will take a total of 10,000 hours of coming back and living in Vietnam for me to hone my survival skill.

People seem to go about their daily lives, not in quiet desperation, and certainly, not constituting “the lonely crowd” as David Reisman puts it. I hardly came across news of lonely people commit suicide over Christmas holidays as I had read in the States.

On Christmas Eve, in Saigon, people just pour out onto the streets, taking souvenir photos, in front of major hotels (using  their decorations as photo-shoot background) and go to the church (Notre Dame du Saigon). The sacred and profane intersect that night like an annual eclipse.

It’s known as Noel, after the French. And well-off families would gather for Reveillon mid-night dinner.

Now that part I can relate to. The feeling of in but not of it, alone in the crowd, celebrating but not belonging.

Something significant takes place in those hours, of the crowd pushing but not hurrying, dressing up but not showing off.

Just logging in another year, an hour or ten hours toward that something called life experience.

Now that I have put down my humble and jumble thoughts, being viewed for more than 10,000 times, I hope I can detect a pattern. Some of you are also lonely, but not to the point of desperation. It’s our Christmas and Holy Night.

Someone important is joining our party. Might not “tenu de soiree”, but wrapped in peasant cloth. To the trained eyes (the 3 kings), it’s a phenomenon. But to us, commoners, our instinct tells us it’s an event not to be missed. Cut through the noise and clutter, we might find the gem. No matter how you view Nativity, Christmas is here to stay. An excuse for us to affirm our humanity and to be validated. Yes, you are still here. I am still here. Mistakes and all. 10,000 hours to go. Starting now. We’ve only just begun. With baby steps. With starting point in the manger or manager office. As long as we don’t lose sight of that child-like fearlessness, of trying out new things, seeing new faces and learning a few more lines of poem, of lyrics or famous motivational quotes.

The intent of 10,000-hour grunt is not to discourage us. It is rather a reinforcement and affirmation for us to keep trying and fail, instead of fail to try. ( I know the difference between this and the definition of insanity). Persistence is fumble after fumble without losing enthusiasm, says Winston Churchill (I have just learned this quote today). Merry Christmas to you and yours. Never stop trying.

 

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.

 

Van’s Cafe pt II

Last Sunday morning was my first time at the jam session here.

Today, my second. It is getting better, sweeter and with more substance.

Thanksgiving weekend with friends and music lovers. It’s game weekend in the US. Or shop til you drop.

Here jazz music permeates the air we breathe.

Unrehearsed of course.

But it flows. The energy, the passion and just a good passage of time together.

I feel jazz. It’s warm, sweet and penetrating.

It makes us human. Playful and painful at the same time. The headache and heartache.

Share it brother!

Hi five.

We take a rest to be real audience.

Forget the bills, the business of life.

Just celebrate it while living it.

Being In love.

Being confused.

And being here.

Join me. I probably be here next Sunday. My friend won’t be. He is doing his numbers now, but will fly back to San Francisco, where he plays in the SF Jazz band.

I am glad he is here this weekend. So I don’t have to be all the way back across the pond to hear him.

Of course Hung brought his amplifier, and guitar. Dat (blind) on the piano and the KC band on drum and base guitar.

They play well together. Jam session.

The audience too. Very selective. Very very much in love with every note, every expression of seeing open soul on display.

“Sometime when we touch, the honesty too much”.

I don’t feel alone here, even at an empty table. They are after all up there jamming.

Beer half-opened and I sip mine slowly, for fear that their number will end too soon.

The Heineken you can reorder, but friendship and the mutual love for music will never die.

I wish you can be here. Not the kind of canned “I wish you a Merry Christmas” you hear all the time.

But I truly wish you an experience as valuable and unique as this one.

Pop, Jazz, French mix.

Like the city itself. Old Saigon, always adapting and thriving on chaos.

I love this city, it’s people and its multiple expressions however unrehearsed and unprepared.

It’s our best and it’s best in my eyes.

 

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.

Brunch w/ a bunch (of jamers)

It’s my first time at  Van’s Cafe, 46 Pham Ngoc Thach, District 1 Saigon on Sunday morning. And I found myself walking into the door with 2 musicians I know: Mr Hai, on base guitar, and Quoc Dat (blind but extremely gifted jazz pianist, and a student of my now deceased friend.).

Before I knew it, people with guitars, chains in their jeans, rings in their ears, started to fill the room.

It’s a very rare place, if not, the only place where everybody knows your name (Saigon version of Cheers) . But you have to shout over their perfectly set acoustic.

Two sweetest Singaporeans, twice my size, recommended “banh mi bo kho”on the menu (that was before the owner, Khac Trieu, also multi-talented: drummer, vocalist, guitarist, clarinetist and keyboardist, ordered beef wasabi, Van’s Cafe new item).

The lead vocalist is named Rex, from the Philippines. He sings in English, Korean and Vietnamese (or trying).

My fear of  being new at Sunday jamming was dissipated, when Quoc Dat, with my help to get to the piano, started his jazz numbers.

World-renown photographer showed up, with Vietnamese wife and his daughter (who I had eye contact with to help me jump-start my Beatles‘ Imagine number). Other expats followed suit.

You can never guess what would happen at Sunday Jamming, or at night on the 2nd floor with scheduled Rockers, French singers (BTW, Christophe is in town here in Saigon this weekend), DJ at half time and open-mike jammers at midnight.

That’s when I met our regular clubbers-turned-friends like Willie and Warren, Danny and Bill.

And of all people, my friend from childhood also showed up. Apparently all roads lead to Rome for music lovers.

So come, for the food and the fun, the music and musicians. You won’t be disappointed as I have found out.

But don’t come too early. Live music starts at 9:30PM 7 nights a week. With Sunday morning, we can call it 8 days a week at Van’s Cafe here in HCMC. See you one of these beautiful sundays or, if you want to dance too, then after 9:30PM 7 days a week.

“You may say that I am a dreamer. But I am not the only one. We hope someday you’ll join us…..”

Cyclo in the time of Google

By now, you can still see a few weather-beaten cyclos around albeit restricted to tourist quarters.

I still remember the sound of horse carriage in the streets of  old Saigon.

My kid will be lucky if she knows what a cyclo is.

She knows Google though.

Paperless and painless search. Now with semantic search.

My profile, age in particular, triggers online ads on retirement funds.

Each day, we clear out trash in our home office and online.

Meanwhile, cyclo guys paddle along, knowing that their trade is joining the ranks of old scribes, horse shoe makers and Kodak shops. And the cinema is about to close its curtain. My uncle’s cinema is now a storage.

I came back fully related to the character in Cinema Paradiso,  with nostalgia.

The underlining theme is still there: where is that old blind film projectionist/mentor ? Mine is a guitarist who has recently been out of work.

We both need a gig. Maybe it will work out for him since he has upgraded his play list on an Ipad. But not for the cyclo guy whose best day constitutes but a few passengers hauling bulky merchandise. Cyclo is now relics of a colonial past: white folks and colored coolies, on a leisurely ride along smoke-filled streets packed with motorcycles made in China. Future shock has moved on to its Third Stage (Muscle, machine and Mind), from cyclo to motor-cycle and onto Google. People are making money by a click of the mouse, and not by paddling those three-wheelers, using 21st-century skill set and not primitive strands of muscle.

Modern technology doesn’t come without criticism, starting with the Luddites onto soon-to-be-released Circle.

Consider a huge percentage of Search are on the subject of Porn, to shut it down altogether would present a dictator’s dilemma.

No turning back, or you will turn into salt. Gosh, I miss the sound of horse carriage at Ben Thanh market. I miss being skinny , vulnerable and trusting. Faith that can move mountain. That some day, I will see face to face, although only through a glass darkly in the mean time.

Wisdom comes from mistakes, not missed opportunities.

I’d rather tried and failed than failed to try.

Tell that to the cyclo guy, who ordered two glasses of sugar-cane juice, while I could barely gulp down one. All I did was googling, while he was cycling. Muscle man in the age of Machine.

 

We can handle the truth

We here are people who fled Vietnam in various waves (pre-1975, 1975, and post-1975) and have settled in Little Saigon, Orange County, CA.

I have seen the strip transformed, from a few stores to be what it is today: patch work of mini plazas interlacing with mobile home parks, often times, reflections of the boom and bust times.

First was a State Farm rep office, with a pharmacy. Then a Mall. Then all that followed e.g. foot massage parlors (Chinese money) condo complex and French bakeries. Businesses traditionally catered to mainstream tastes e.g. 7/11, Burger King, Ralphs supermarkets were all closed. In their places are Pho (at a discount, like cigarettes), iced coffee, tea (Tastea) and trade-up Vietnamese restaurants.

It was conceived to be a hub for second migration (the first was engineered by the US Government, to prevent Little Havana type of cluster).

Little do we know (the same blind spot that the US Army underestimated the strength of the collective enemy), climate and community acted as push and pull forces for second migration.

We still can’t handle the truth (that policy makers don’t see beyond the immediate).

Now market forces are taking over after the housing boom and burst. High-margin businesses survive side by side with some flavors of urban America: the Vietnamese homeless (stateless to begin with).

On the other hand, we got talk show hosts, weekly pundits and Vietnamese Film Festival featuring up to 69 entries.

We can handle the truth. (I attended a showing last night at UC Irvine. The producer personifies self-reinvention: Silicon Valley engineer, Loan Officer, and now ethnic film producer that might eventually go main stream).

There is a torch-passing process although one cannot see the definite hand-off. The legacy and language, the tug of war between the generations and the acculturation rate (new comers would use Little Saigon as jump point, the same way ChinaTown has served this role for centuries).

Money doesn’t flow one way. It has started to flow the other way (up to 3.5 million Vietnamese tourists from Vietnam are now allowed to travel Westward, a one-to-one match up (and catching up) with those who have resettled.

More monks, more students and concerned parents visiting US campuses, more business and marriage brokerage eager to close deals.

By the end of this month, those who first came in their 30’s will have reached their 70’s. I walked by the Senior citizen center, once bustling with activities e.g. chess match, English classes, Tai chi. Now, the membership are dwindling, funds dried out.

We can still handle the truth.

If I were community planner, I would pay attention to the unmet needs of the touchscreen generation. How do we yank them away from the I-pad screens? What lesson in Vietnamese language and culture would attract them, and what value could we offer?

Meanwhile, tourism to America has reached its low point. Can Little Saigon be a small magnet on the way to Las Vegas and Disney Land.

What other business proposition we can offer to attract reverse money flow? How do we keep those brain power who are now educated on tourist/student visa? I guess it all boils down to quality of life. California has been hard at work to push for air quality.

Now the same zeal is needed to support and upgrade its ethnic base. After all, it’s the end of the West before Hawaii. And it needs to live up to that reputation, once known as California Dreaming. I am sure the Vietnamese homeless guys are doing just that in front of the Food To Go.

We can handle the truth., Mr Stockman.

http://thechairmansblog.gallup.com/2013/04/americans-cant-handle-truth.html

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!

Go a bit more native

In 2000, after 25 years of being away, I made a short trip back to Vietnam.

What a culture shock (especially when I landed in Hanoi, where I had only heard about).

Twelve years. A dozen trips later. A little deeper into the alleys and byways.

I think I have touched on different parts of the proverbial Elephant.

Vietnam now has malls that are as sterile as the ones in the States (on weekdays).

The first Starbucks is having its soft-opening.

Raybans, I-phones and Vespas are as common as the remaining rice fields.

French colonial presence is confined in the centres with boulevards and sidewalks (just like in Cote d’Ivoire). But urban sprawl doesn’t stop there.

At the outskirts of Saigon, shops after shops compete for retail customers.

Fresh flowers are shipped in from the highland just in time for Tet celebration.

Coffee shops with Wi-fi serve up tea to go with coffee (East and West blended).

When you see a bunch of well-dressed Asian get off a bus, you know they are APEC tourists.

Or else, backpackers would try to hopelessly blend in with flip-flops and shorts. Lonely Planet. I read that guide on my first trip. Now, I rely on instincts and instructions from my taxi and scooter drivers.

Like any city, Saigon is divided into various social strata The upper crust lives behind iron-gates and tinted Mercedes.

Everyone else, crowded flats and scooters, wearing required helmets and optional surgical masks.

Fortune are made and lost here. One bubble after another. 1997 and 2008.

Not as severe as in Thailand. But the poor have always suffered, below the radar. They will probably continue this trajectory for a while, even with more foreign investments. With brands like Nike, Intel, Starbucks, KFC and Jabil , change is undeniably in your face.

Vietnam has grown out of the “war” box. It has evolved into an emerging market and “Happy” country (behind only Costa Rica). It is worth visiting and studying.

While people are increasingly materialistic, that alone is not what makes them  happy. Perhaps with the right mix, one can be content.

Let’s not forget, people do share the spoil, which makes them materialistic, but not yet individualistic.

To give is more blessed than to receive. But not for long since the mono-chronistic, individualistic and modernistic cultures are invading, and people start putting up fences and walls. Fences make good neighbors, as Frost put it.

But it also slices away those invisible connections people are born into for centuries, before the French, the American, the Russian and the APEC people arrived under the pre-text of global village. In truth, what do we know about life in a village? I certainly don’t. The US arm forces didn’t. Nobody did, except the people who had lived there, and now are living in the city. They too wouldn’t tell (I found “After Sorrow” by Lady Borton quite informing).  While I try to go a bit more native, they went the opposite (urbanized). Somewhere in between, we cross-path like two ships in the night. Oh, don’t forget to bring cash if you want to go a bit more native.

Fast foods invasion

It’s kind of redundancy. Fast foods in Saigon?

The place has already been fast. I don’t know if fast foods will help.

At Saigon Central (train depot), I was told to take a number and wait (the way Carl Jr would do in the US) for my fries.

Saigon is not used to mono-chronistic tempo (first comes first served). People just cut in, last in first out. If you are fanatic and faithful to Western sense of order, you will pick a fight every time (conversely, if you went native, you might run into reverse culture shock upon re-entry to the US).

No wonder, the first thing a foreigner sees is the sign, which says “US citizen” this way, the rest, that way. Get in line.  One at a time. Orderly Departure and Entry.

Burger King, KFC and now Starbucks, preceded by a bunch of Filippino and Korean chains.

Pretty soon, one cannot distinguish this city from any other in the world: cosmopolitan, clean and charge it baby (burgers and fries, cappuccino and pizza).

The West is taking over the rest.

When Fareed Zakaria talks about the Post-American World, he meant The Rise of the Rest. But what does that mean? Indian IT workers begin to go clubbing, Chinese tourists begin to take up coffee habits at Forbidden City’s Starbucks, and Brazilian go-go dancers start shopping at Victoria Secrets?

It’s a blended world, of which America happened to be the lead influencer.

Fast foods, fast pipe etc… are manifestations of mass markets, whose principles are rooted in auto manufacturing (which happened to be an offspring of the old industrial world).

It seeks not high-end Tiffany base. Just the lowest common denominator: limited decoration, fast turn-around and a lot of marketing hype (to look hip, westernized, with I-tunes music in the background). Thomas Friedman noticed  that any two countries with a McDonald are least likely to be at war with each other.

The French once boycotted against McDonalization and Disneylandization. They wanted to enjoy slow foods (multiple courses). It’s the slow growth view. The anti-globalization view.

The clash in Seattle not too long ago was a wake up call.

In It’s a Miracle (by one of former Pink Floyd members), we learned about “McDonald in Tibet”. It’s a miracle (with sarcasm).

Now, all you need is fast foods for Saigon fast lane. As if the place is  not fast enough. Actually, what took them (fast foods chains) so long? The place is way ahead of the curve. I have seen people stop their scooters, ask for a light, and zoom along with cigarette to go. Starbucks might have to have their Zippos ready for drive-bys. It’s smoking fast here.