Tag: Ho Chi Minh City

Hyphenated Identity

Last month, during the height of the election campaign, I saw plenty of signage for local board seats. Many hybrid names (Vietnamese-American) which tell me two things: second-generation immigrants are now politically active, yet they still want to keep those last names, to serve as bridges to the old world.

Old World–New World.

I know both very well. I travel back and forth lately, observing, taking it all in.

The good, the bad and the ugly. Both sides now.

For example: here in the US, I drive by 24-hr Emergency Pet Clinic every day.

But I also know that a lot of people, not pets, are homeless (including the newly added Post-Sandy Tent City). The best piece on the American Dream went awry was already portrayed by Ben Kingsley in The House of Sand and Fog (Iranian big-shot bought an illegally repossessed house, just to end up losing his life along with it).

Meanwhile, in VN, everybody tries to move to the city centre, where there hardly are any space left unless a storm, almost as strong as Sandy, knocked down a few more trees.

The US got junk yards (industrial waste). Vietnam got grave yards (Agent Orange). Both got people “mooning” although for a very different reason.

Back to hybrid identity. So we came, we saw, and we campaign (not conquer).

Good for them.

John Nguyen, Joseph Cao etc…

May their descendants prosper in this land of milk and honey. When elected, don’t forget to put people above pet. I fear that by the time they drop those last names for let’s say Joseph Smith,  they will also have acquired a taste for fast cars and fast food.

And perhaps 24-hr gym, 24-hr Donut  Town and 24-hr Emergency Pet Clinic.

It all makes sense after living here for a while. But to any foreigner who has just arrived, America certainly is a peculiar place, worthy of year-long culture shock (this was verbatim from a Filippino immigrant whose lingerie line finally distributed by Target, making her a millionaire).

Before you know it, they pledge Allegiance to the Flag, and drop those hard-to-pronounce first names. Voila! We are all American. One Nation under God, withstand against all enemies, foreign or domestic (mostly foreign, so watch out. Adapt quickly and just say “to go” when asked: FOR HERE OR TO GO?).

Saigon vs Little Saigon

Burger King near the heart of Little Saigon, Westminster, CA is now closed.

Burger King at Tan Son Nhut Airport is now opened.

Just one of the many striking contrasts e.g. scooters vs wheels nation.

Skin coffee vs alley coffee, homeless folks vs lottery-ticket sellers.

On and on. People in Saigon have a vague notion of what their fellow countrymen are doing in Little Saigon. They saw it on Music Video.

They heard it second-hand via tourists (often consisted of inflated tales of infidelity or gender role reversal). Entertainers have found inspiration and served as in-betweeners.

Instead of setting city folks against country folks, contemporary comedy focuses on overseas Vietnamese (Viet Kieu)  searching for suitable wives. Sometimes, with the help of  a matchmaker (equivalent of head hunter in the working world).

The cultural gap widens when the prospective groom is from Taiwan or Korea.

But it also exists with Viet Kieu, who grew up in N America or Europe.

He could use the chopsticks, speak a few lines of greeting “Chao Bac”, but he also works out at the gym and drinks Corona instead of Ken (Heineken).

If he chooses Mexican foods over Vietnamese, he definitely is from Little Saigon, and not Saigon.

Saigon now has cappuccino and espresso bars, while Little Saigon just wants to offer Cafe Sua Da and Rau Muong.

Someday, the twain shall meet at Starbucks.

For now, both like AE brand (XS size) and everyone loves Hollister.

California Dreaming still.

The strength of Little Saigon lies in its flexibility and fluidity (to and fro both worlds), while Saigon itself, is rooted in colonial French and rich history of openness and optimism.

One doesn’t spend much on room and board in Saigon. Just put on something hip, and hit the town.

Again, if they were to order Mexican, you can tell they are from Little Saigon.

Go Chipotle and Corona.

Saigon siesta

We used to lie on the floor (absorbing the coolness from the tiles) and listen to “Y0ur Song” , theme of that time’s radio broadcast. That’s my siesta as I can recall.

Older brother used Hit Parade, with Elvis Presley  on the cover.

My friend, meanwhile, laminated his vinyl album (James Taylor).

We have just met over lunch today. He mentioned his 3-year old boy who listened to While My Guitar Gently Weeps.

Rock lives on. So does Saigon siesta.

People find shades.

Some cafes even offer hammocks instead of chairs.

Self-created summer breeze.

People move about between two extremes: fate and future.

Aren’t we all, living in Saigon or South Central.

Still, there is something about growing up, lying on the floor and listening to Soft Rock.

It’s truly a Wonderful World, where “the dog says goodnight” and the rooster crows, always a bit early for city life.

I can’t recall how I  pick up a date, while attending an all-boy school without a cell phone (and SMS).

But I somehow managed.

At work, in Santa Monica, some inshore techs couldn’t open their eyes after a lunch of heavy rice staple.

They probably stayed up late for conference calls anyways , living in our 24/7 connected world.

Siesta: a must at my friend’s work place here in Saigon.

Might as well work that into company policy.

Just that it’s hard to have tile floor at work similar to my “your song” experience.

I hope you don’t mind, I wrote down this song. I hope my friend’s kid grow up liking this song . It’s for him as well.

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.

Saigon’s nearest beach

From Saigon, with Russian-made fast boat, you can be in Vung Tau (literally Ship Harbor) in an hour and a half. I made that trip yesterday. Poor man’s vacation. Peace-time R&R. The neighborhood used to be a hang-out place for GI’s, Australian, and every major news agents and double agents. Now the fight has moved on to other theaters. Still I couldn’t help superimpose the scene of Vietnam War last day on it

I even memorized “Toi Di Giua Hoang Hon” (I walk right into dusk). My first trip to Vung Tau as a five-year-old was with my cousin, sister and her husband in a voiture (albeit small one). My Walden.

Then later, our 9th-grade gang went camping by scooters. All  went well on the Western Front . My Eden.

Until we left on a barge, destination US 7th Fleet out in International Waters, also the command center of Operation Frequent Wind.

We were at their mercy :  they would return to complete the task (we were left drifted in the middle of the trip on Saigon’s hottest night in the dark while the city was under siege). My purgatory.

Ships changed flags, copters abandoned, armies turned civies, worthless money tossed out as atonement, while guns dropped by the buckets in lieu of boarding passes.

Random rockets, meant to deter, ended up destroying fishing boats which dotted the sea.You gotta to have amnesia to forget what had happened.

Yesterday, I traveled in the same old river but with a few differences: A/C, faster boat and a flying Vietnam‘s Communist flag at a river outpost . I also noted more highrises dotted Saigon skyline .

When I got to Vung Tau, I ran right into my buddy Ben, whom I know from TEFL school. So we hung out at the expat enclave (the CleverLearn and ILA crew). Ben seemed to know everyone in town, foreigners that was.

Back to Vung Tau, a beach town. It’s now upscale, slightly over-developed , at least on the surface. It could not however accommodate the influx of Saigonese on major holidays. But on stormy nights like last night, even the hottest bar girls would find it hard to get by.

We got Irish pub, Italian pizza and Indian cuisine.

Ben wanted to open an oyster bar, Beach Boys style. All the powers to  him. Maybe he can teach patron a new English word in Today’s special.

I couldn’t help reflect on Vung Tau as my launching pad to the US.

The place has changed over the years. So have I.

But suppose that I decided to stay, as Ben did, I would not get out of it as much as Ben.

He came with no legacy “can you see Saigon from here? I don’t” .  He only saw VT potential.

I, on the other hand, see VT as past and pain, not potential.

Vung Tau, Saigon‘s nearest beach, extends from my past all the way to the future.

Just like life itself, a series of flashbacks and future projections.

It’s good to decide on the fly to have that poor man’s R&R. During war-time, Ben and I would have communicated non-verbally (with a lot of gestures).

He got TESOL, I CELTA. We are like apples and oranges. And we converged on that same old beach. He is staying, and getting married. I am leaving.

Its water is still mercilessly unclean, unless you swim way far out (I am referring to Bai Dau, where there hardly was any wave).

Still a ship harbor. Still raking in the cash and churning out the pain.

Toi van di giua hoang hon, long thuong nho (equivalent of : Hello Darkness my old friend).

Saigon alley

I left W Palm Beach where some called “paradise” for Saigon alley.

Going from beach to bunker, I got a bump up in  the Happiness index.

Costa Rica for example has led this chart for quite sometime.

Vietnam, according to latest survey, ranked behind Costa Rica. In fact, having moved up on the Happiness  Index, it is de-listed from Singaporean Hardship Index (expat executives are no longer granted extra compensation for coming to work here).

Saigon got seasonal fruits, sea foods and sunshine.

Its nearest beach, Vung Tau, is quite crowded over the big holidays.

People in the alley know one another. They hang out at the corner coffee and eat the same meal.

District 1 and its alleys are geared for backpackers and tourists.

I had ended up first at the outer skirt then moved closer to city ‘s center.

Landlords are nice and respectful.

Neighbors are caring. Strangers leave you alone, although gossip behind your back.

Once in a while, a white-face is seen on scooters, with helmet and all.

A Viet Kieu from Australia told me after more than two decades, he could barely crack the culture code.

One dollar is still equal roughly 20,000 VND.

But aside from that, nothing seems easy. I miss the cinemas. Those old facilities have been turned into textile factory, print shop or opera school.

Valuable real estate.

Live shows here could be heard from the street. Some even stood on their scooters to take a peak (coi cop).

Karaoke houses still make money.

On summer nights, lovers  just ride around for ventilation .

They do that year-round, since it’s hot, flat and crowded here.

Neighbors would ask me to come over for tea.

Children run around, and young parents struggle to contain them.

Raising a family on two-wheelers is of course hard.

Worker bees know they have to show up on time, rain or shine.

Wages barely cover the essentials.

So coffee, coffee and occasional “ken” (Heineken) is a treat.

Birthday celebrations have become more prevalent. This is to show Vietnam’s transition from the old (memorial for the dead -a collectivistic and clanish event) to the new (futuristic and individual-oriented occasion).

Young students are catching on with overseas peers, at least in appearance (T-shirt and jeans).

IT workers at software parks also try to catch up : LTE, 4-G and IPV6.

The best about Vietnam is that it rides on two horses: the venerable and heroic tradition ; and the insatiable desire to integrate globally.

No where explains this better than Saigon’s latest tourism expo.

It’s held in the city’s water park, to show case local cuisine and at the same time, destination exotic.

Individual cubicle at work blends perfectly with shared rice cooker.

Saigon, the city, and its alleys, home to many extended families.

Pax Saigonese. It’s peace time, so don’t send war journalists here.

Just move about, and enjoy the counter-intuitive trends that co-exist.

Saigon alley, my home for half a year. Paradise or purgatory? Hardship or Happiness? Or just Peace inside out.

Saigon Central (Ga Saigon)

The track is still there. So is the prominent display of coal locomotive.

Hard to get there though, tuck in the back of winding District 3 streets.

I checked out the logistic and lay-out: upstairs for ticketing, and downstairs with hamburger stores.

My sister loves to take train to Hanoi. She grew up reading the Hunchback of Notre Dame, Dr Zhivago etc…

Northerners like herself left for Southern cities Bien Hoa and Saigon, the train’s last stop.

A few European backpackers were seen walking about, awaiting departure.

But Saigonese are more inclined to taking scooters and buses.

Train, cinema and snail mail are now things of the past.

I used to hear ” Biet Ly” play in my home.

Biet Ly, nho nhung tu day…..oi coi tau nhu xet nat tam hon (Adieu, start missing from here on….the train whistles through the heart leaving deep cuts)_

I want to feel their pain. Evacuation and separation.

Even when you can come back, the place has changed.  So have you.

Saigon Central itself has changed: from running on coal to diesel or mixture.

Old movies love train scenes: the long coat, the longing, then the steps, the suitcases before the reunioin embrace.

Reunion and Au revoir. Embrace moi.

Saigon Central got its shares of tearful goodbyes.

Perhaps from more previous generations than mine.

Today’s airport with added security after 9/11 takes romance out of the equation.

People kiss goodbye nevertheless.  When will I see you again?

Only the longing hearts in synch know.

Here, there or in the air.

Saigon Central is just a destination. Last stop in the line.

But it has served its time, blowing up some steam and dropping off millions.

Perhaps my families as well. I can feel it in my bones. Can’t prove it. Just took in the scene today and knew that it was a dying breed. Like the cinema. Like the snail mail.  A la recherche du temps perdu.

Take it up one notch

I am all for PE (Physical Education).

This trend has picked up in Vietnam; all the powers to young people.

Gold gym, Cali gym, NVK gym, Nhat Dang Nhi Da etc…. Let’s go. One and two.

Lift those arms, kick those legs.

Be healthy and be green.

(I have blogged too much about death and caskets, since I live near a funeral parlor).

This morning I saw a tennis tournament take place at Lan Anh Club.

To be fair, Vietnam’s young demographics are ensuring their fighting chance.

Vietnam got Talent. Got health and ambition.

Pressures from below and pressures from above.

Between the rock and a hard place. You are in between hot oil and the frying pan.

Find the optimal medium.

Work hard and work smart.

Spend wisely, and invest heavily (in people and connection).

Meanwhile, lift those muscles, not letting the scooters and machinery do all the lifting.

Industrialization and its discontent.

Coming to the machine near you.

Soon, Vietnam will get over its first love with smokestacks.

It will step back and look at its polluted landscape (Dong Nai, Binh Duong).

And ask itself, is this worth it all, our health and our grandchildren’s health!

Nguoi Viet Khoe. NVK.

A gym near you.

It doesn’t cost much to join. But it takes pain to tone those unused muscles.

Then the alteration folks are standing by to hem those lines and fit those loosed shirts.

Have a great work-out. You will definitely break some sweats here in Vietnam. The weather will always cooperate to make that happen.

Leaving your heart behind

Home for the holidays. For my students at least.

For me, 37 years ago, I was feeling on edge. One-way with no return.

Yet, it has been possible for me to return and work here in Vietnam. To see students prepared for studying abroad. But their leaving has a promise of a return (two-way).

Many are leaving for home on this long holiday. Home where we all leave 0ur hearts behind.

If I had known there would someday be a return, I wouldn’t have cried so much. I wouldn’t have turned my back on mother’s land and mother’s tongue.

I wouldn’t have wasted my time taking classes on tangent subjects such as Buddhism in America (Summer) or Radio production (required).

My degree in media was hardly put to use. Now Social Media is taking over.

New generation, new ways to connect.

Oh well. I wouldn’t have taken my heart with me on that fateful trip to America aboard the USS ship.

I would have left my heart behind.

I wouldn’t have short-changed my heritage for bad attitude under the euphemism called assertiveness training.

I would have preserved my core values e.g. filial son of Vietnam. Ironically, I can now reclaim this, only after my parents were buried in Virginia and I, am still alive, in Vietnam. Should have been the other way around. They would have preferred it that way. So while in Vietnam, I miss Virginia. And vice versa. It is to show that the heart is least understood and most abused.

How do I know this? Seeing young people rushing home, while I as an expat got no place to go.

That’s why I know. That’s how I feel. Odd ball on the dance floor. You can travel the thousands miles, but can’t do much with the heart with a fix on a certain place, person and period. That’s what makes us human. That we  miss something or someone. To the point of dying for it. Or feel like it in its absence. I guess that’s what I did some three and a half decade ago: leaving my heart behind on that dock no 5 of the Saigon River.

Numbers game

At any time of the day in Saigon, you might be approached by street vendors selling lottery tickets, snacks. Even Buddhist monks hold a donation box but with fixed gaze in Zen steps i.e. barefooted on hot concrete.

Self-punishment. I respect the monks. Their self-control , from strict diet to dress code.

Life evolves around 8-fold path.

Born to suffer. Born this way.

The vendors of Saigon play their numbers game.

Lottery players do so as well.

They gather at close-of-business day for the winning numbers.

Dream on.

The more tickets you buy, the more money you lose.

Meanwhile, folks flock to Cambodia where casinos are legal. Reminds me of S Californians who make similar trips to Sin City (Las Vegas).

Dream on.

Meanwhile, Mirage expands to Macau.

Numbers game again. Improving your odds.

Everyone is on the move. Einstein theory on motion (Earth rotates etc…). Gotta improve the odds. Gotta to change that luck. Gotta play the numbers game, however small the probability. Dream on, move on. Nghin nam sau soi da van can co nhau. Thousand years on, rock and pebbles still need each other. What a song and a line to be played at funerals. Quite fleeting.