Tag: Seattle

Monsoon and Moonfest

Overhearing some people talking about rain in Dalat, Vietnam‘s mountainous area, I thought back to a time and a place where innocence was shred like old skin. You see, growing up in Vietnam even in the midst of the war, was still something to be cherished. You might have neighbor’s funeral with flag draped over coffin, but you could also have free reign during Moon Festival. Lanterns and lighting, of all kinds.

Monsoon rain during the day and dry crisp air at night, formed a clear line of sight to chi Hang (Moon Lady). I imagined seeing the Moon man hanging on to the magic tree (per fairy tale). Later on, when Neil Armstrong  (who has just died) stepped foot on it, as Curiosity Rover now roaming Mars, science was waging war on our hand-me-down heritage. Fable or fact? Fiction or non-fiction?

If you were to grow up during my time, you couldn’t have helped questioning everything: kids on the opposite side of the world were doing the same thing, asking if the “outsourced” war thousands miles away were worth the sacrifice. Meanwhile, computer geeks just coded their nights away in A/C- humming labs. If we can zoom the camera out , we will see dry and hot day in California and Seattle (where Bill Gates was taking a bus for computer timeshare) and the post-rainy Moon Festival night when I was skipping with lantern in hand. Got to have those cakes and candles.

Sweet tooth and sweet innocence. A whole festival dedicated to our young age group. Who said in Asia, only older people are respected. We (kids) ruled!

Then that innocence was shattered as reports about the unwinnable war got out with CBS dailies. Cronkite walked the ground of the US embassy and delivered a one-two punch in bullet-proof vest and helmet: it’s a stalemate.

Johnson knew then he wouldn’t have a  chance to convince the public the other way, after all, “that’s the way it is”.

Truth and fiction, fairy tale vs glass-encased moon rock.

In full view, we knew something was going on, but “what it is, ain’t exactly clear”.

So I grew up hurriedly, burned my  Moon Fest candles quickly and swallowed that sweet cake in one bite.

Fast forward to this day, again, hot in California, and rainy in Dalat, I smile to myself: it sure has been a wonderful childhood amidst of war. The intense fighting only made coming of age all the more precious.

Blood was shed to protect our playground.

I now realize why I keep coming back for more . I wish for other kids to feel what I felt: an appreciation for life, albeit amidst danger. Despite having threats from all sides, one could still do some self-validating, self-legitimizing and story-telling (to generation next). Now, that’s pre-computer-age coding and culture making. That’s buying time in a society on the verge of collapse. Now, we see children with I-pads in hands, but disrespectful and unappreciative. The age of Entitlement is overtaking the age of Enlightenment. And no one seems to “cry, my beloved country”. The Monsoon suddenly brought back sweet memories of  MoonFest. Monsoon continues still, year after year, but not my MoonFest,  which exists only in faint but never faded memory.

Life’s soundtrack

I have just received a photo showing a hot-air balloon over Seattle, with me and Geoffrey in the basket. We just need a soundtrack to add to it. The puffy hot air, the wind which carried us over the lush-green scenery with Bill Gates himself living on the ground. If given a choice, I choose “Theme from Woodstock”, since we were kidding ourselves that we were “stock East” and “stock West”.

The same lay of the land, without the housing bubble (Seattle and Washington D.C. exempted).

Home to MSC, Amazon and Starbucks.

My cousin used to live there until he died. A former Red Beret and a school teacher.

The last time we spoke was when he wished me a happy marriage. In hindsight, I wished I had made the journey to visit him up there instead of Nova Scotia. By the time I was in that company-sponsored hot-air balloon, my Seattle-based cousin had already died.

Given that context, I would lay down the music track “theme from the deer hunter” (Cavatina) instead for that hot-air balloon trip. Same visual, different feel to it when you lay a different soundtrack underneath.

The difference between the soup lines from the Recession of 1930 and this one, was in how we recorded history: one in Black-and-White grainy photos, and one in crisp digital copies.

Men who carry themselves with whatever dignity left inside of them (even when the fire went out).

President Obama is urging the nation to go back to Community College to get manufacturing certificate. He did not mention that we are living in a disposable society, where the manufacturing sector (which used to produce disposable goods like Campbell soup) is itself disposable, outsourced to lower-wage countries (and downward spiraled from there).

We are lucky now if we can view Modern Times by Charlie Chaplin and laugh.

If he were alive, he wouldn’t think it’s funny at all. He meant to be prophetic, not to produce a documentary about globalization of the manufacturing sector. He wanted to humanize the workers, just to see his audience now sidelined, watching the process repeat itself overseas (with Asian actors).

If I were to lay a soundtrack to these “silent” movies, I would put Theme from the Exodus

(during the Tet massacre of 1968, they laid this soundtrack to show mass graves in Hue).

As in any movie, I need to zoom out now. Back to my hot-air balloon trip with Geoffrey in Seattle.

We saw the lush green, other teams’ balloons, and finally landed safely to the gathering place where we congratulated ourselves for being Ovation winners. Let the bonding continue. Soundtrack “theme from Chariots of Fire“.

Culture shock, future shock, aftershock

We just saw an aftershock in Japan at magnitude 7.0. In and of itself, it’s a major earthquake. But, since it had been preceded by the big one (9.0), it is pale in comparison.

As to culture shock, a man from the Amazon who got transported to Seattle, WA will only hear one thing in common: Amazon.com.
The rest like Starbucks, Microsoft etc… seems strange to him. Off the bet, he needs winter wear to survive.

Like Austin Powers who needs to adjust expectations, majorly, upon stepping out of deep freeze.

Things are partitioned with biometric passwords and cumbersome authentication process (unlike the Woodstock fence which got pushed down and stayed down for the duration of the three-day concert). No room on the VW van or Love bus for Luddites.

Welcome to our digital future, where everything is mobile and online.

Austin cannot use his traditional charm to pry for information.

In other words, his spy craft needs serious brush-ups.

(incidentally, dentistry has advanced quite nicely since his time).

He will hardly get any service or human interaction: at the gym (finger print pad, more sophisticated than Austin’s spy school,) on the phone with “customer service” (speech recognition and voice activation before you get a live operator, from call center far way, whose accent Austin incidentally can ID, but may be doubtful if he had mis-dialed the country code).

Even kids check text messages while talking to parents. The Dad still checks out stock quotes while his wife nags that dinner was ready.

Yet one deadline remains the same: April 15th. As sure as death, tax time is due time for everyone. Government might get shut down, so pay up.

The future is now. But it comes not without a few shocks of its own.

Meanwhile, ROW (rest of world) is playing catch up. Emerging countries all try to export their stuff to the Walmart near you. Pretty soon, we are surrounded by Dollar stores, where everything is priced at one dollar, inflation-adjusted.

BTW, when our Austin Powers runs into our Amazon man in Seattle, they can agree on one thing: we need to take care of Mother Nature, because these aftershocks are not funny. Quite inconvenient indeed. Whether you are a primitive man or a hit man, you know that when the bell tolls for thee, it’s also for me. Culture shock, I can adapt. Future shock, I can embrace. But aftershock, …. it keeps me up at night. Just check with Fukushima and Sandy refugees in the shelters. They can tell you, it may take years, not months, before they can return to “normal”. I can empathize, having absorbed all three shocks myself.

Get fat, get fit

I was crunching, when the PA system announced “free pizza at Planet Fitness, 1st Monday of the month”.

Might as well. Indulge.  After all, it says “No judgment zone.”  Get fat, get fit.

Carrot and then Stick.

In a blog I recently subscribed to, I found : ” the extent that we help fulfill other people’s dream,we fulfill ours.”.

We know that life is not without paradox.

Past choices limit future options.

(We did not then have the benefits of hindsight).

Pleasure and pain intersect right there on the exercise mat: one more crunch, reverse crunch etc.. just to build up a better appetite (which gets us right back to the beginning).

Who among us lives without self-conflict, let him cast the first stone.

We want the oil, but also a  clean beach.

We dress up to see Les Miserables, at Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, but hurry up across the street when a homeless guy approaches.

And we can’t wait to tell others ” I told you so” when the chips are all down.

Pundits, politicians and pollsters, were in denial about the “black swan” of the Financial system, which gave us all a “black eye”.

A suicide here, and a robbery there. Not sure how the consequences will play out. Wall Street watches Main Street. Main Street waits on Wall Street. All one-way streets (as of this edit, unemployment in Greece still at 26.9 per cent).

There have been more migration to the dust bowl, where not too long ago, Dorothy couldn’t wait to leave home on a Greyhound bus. These states now seem attractive with tax incentives, and rural broadband connection.

And a story that we all missed: Vietnam was at the top of Emerging Countries chart 3 years in the row (2007-2010) even when they have yet exploited the wheels of industrialization. Just cheap and surplus of labor. But everyone seems to be fit, not by going to the gym, but by default (no “free pizza” every first Monday of the month.)

Here is our last paradox, in the absence of plenty, everything tastes sweeter. You should see how aggressive people were with Moon Cakes during the weeks that lead up to the Festival. It’s not the mix of flour and sugar. It’s flour and sugar that have been denied for years, and only recently made available and affordable to all. Free Moon Cake for every sign-up at Planet Fit.

 

Third place, third screen, third world

Known as the third place (away from home and work), Starbucks did not stop after opening up in Forbidden City, China.

It has just opened for business in Vietnam (where the I-phone, our third screen – after TV and desktop – recently made a stirring appearance).

Vietnam young consumer segment and older generations with French-cafe habit are low-hanging fruit.

It will have to acquire prime real estate and make an inroad into tourist centers, or M&A with existing Viet-Thai International who operates Highland coffee chain.

Either way, the WiFi Third Place is here in once Third World., Cheryl Crow‘ s pipe-in music (if it makes you happy, and why the hell are you so sad).  After all, Hard Rock cafe has beaten Starbucks to the punch.  Now the hard part is how to translate those “tall ice latte” into Vietnamese.

Those slim bodies are ready to put on some weight.  Soon, location-based promotion will pop up on those I-phones, showing tourists where to get a foamy caffeine fix. It’s no longer Third World but where ever there is a Third Place with Third Screen, that’s home.

No need for coded song (White Christmas) to launch an evacuation. Just stay put for the next Cheryl Crow’s spin on an old Carpenter’s song “While life goes on around him everywhere he’s playing solitaire”. Third Place, third screen, anywhere.