Tag: Shopping

Crossed markets

Forbes kept praising the success of luxury brands in China while web sites in Vietnam and China mentioned “Pepper Spray on Black Friday”. Chinese-made goods, sold as lost leaders, to the first 100-early-bird shoppers.

Planned scarcity.

Hype-creation.

Sensational, sizzling headline-grabbing video op for YouTube.

We need attention. The media need it even more. (For some counter-intuitive reasons, Warren Buffet just spent a chunk of change buying his hometown newspaper, which was bleeding financially).

Maybe he knew something we didn’t.

Here in Vietnam, I found shopkeepers, “loss prevention” guards, and people at the coffee shops all trying to read something.

Literacy rates are high (low 90’s),  perhaps higher than a lot of their counterparts in Asia.

People in motion here at night market in Hanh Thong Tay (budget shoppers for style).

The demographic (mostly young) definitely is an advantage (they won’t die half way through your projects).

Young people here are very assertive in expressing their ideas and opinions.

If you can ride the scooters to and from work, you can definitely work.

And if you can ride to work, on an empty stomach, you definitely need to work hard.

And if you can ride to work on an empty stomach, while at home, there are more empty stomachs, you have no choice but to work and study hard.

What do young people do with their leisure time? That’s right, computer gaming.

Next thing you know, they upgrade to mobile gaming, the same way they have grown up wanting  to get behind the scooters.

Nation in motion.

Back to China with luxury goods and 200 million people moved out of poverty to the middle class.

In those same thirty years, we saw the decline of the West.

Next thirty years, the rise of the Rest.

Stock up on your pepper spray. Stock up on Christmas decoration.

Stockpiling your weapons of mass consumption.

Shopping has always been a patriotic act in the US.

Shop to save: what a contradiction in terms.

Meanwhile, people in China are putting away money for their “only child’s” wedding.

There will be a lot of empty-nesters in China.

There will then be a lot of old tourists from China.

They got tired of their own Great Wall (of China).

They want to take photo standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, built for the first World’s Fair.

They want to experience Paris of the 50-60’s, where “tous leas garcons et les filles de mon age se promaine, dans la rue…”

Everyone is entitled to their 15-min of fame.

To the childhood’s dream.

Of  strange shores and leaving the familiar behind.

Materialism trumps sentimentalism any day, any time.

That’s how the world is flat: consumers are kings and queens, on Black Friday and any Friday.

The-Man Band

He is the man. My man.

Summer night 40 some years ago, he practiced his guitar on the roof behind my house (like a line in Your Song).

Today he is still playing, whistling and singing.

On previous trips, I watched him perform along with two other members in an outdoor cafe.

Slowly, it winded down to two.

Last night, just him, the man.

What struck me was his coolness even when had to change cartridges in between numbers.

Stage hand, guitarist, singer, all in one. Machine and Me.

Maximum efficiency, reduced costs and rising unemployment.

The force of automation spares no one.

I could have called with my condolences (his mother had passed away a few months back).

But something cannot be done via a machine.

It has to be done with a hand grip, human connection and “hood” solidarity.

We went way back, more than 40 years.

He picked up a few guitar tricks from my older brother, I from him.

What goes around comes around.

In Vietnam, we keep reaffirming that the Earth is round, as if tomorrow, its shape might change.

Ironically,  while recycled to a third-tiered cafe on the outskirt of former Saigon, Cafe Vuong Tron (Square & Round) , he remained happy since “they still applauded” he told me.

Square and Round it was.

Young audience held their breaths between numbers.

He had that effect on this young generation (where else can you find a Johnny Cash like, all in black and pony tail in Saigon suburb).

They asked if he had a CD out.

He said he would think about it.

Maybe he should.

How long more can he go on like this (I am only 64, he said).

But when and if he had a recording out, I am not sure it would come across the same way.

Last night, it poured toward the end of his performance.

He switched unreservedly to Who’ll Stop the Rain.

I am sure a CD can play that song as well. But it wouldn’t have those silence in between songs.

It wouldn’t have his comments like “what are you hiding in there behind the tarp”.

It wouldn’t have me, his loyal fan, long time neighbour and unpaid apprentice, to start an applause.

As if to confirm my sidekick status, he asked me to help carry his guitar to the parking lot.

There, the amplifier was fitted in his scooter’s front basket.

His backpack wore backward toward the front, and guitar strapped across his shoulder.

After putting on poncho over his helmet, he waved goodbye, riding into the then still rainy night.

Like a shadow from the past, he had just logged in another trip back and forth to the 60’s.

Gen Y paid only for a coffee to enter his world, his space and his ambience.

They were taken up by a variety of musical expressions, which I am sure, are quite foreign to their world.

He helped unveil the past and even their future.

Music could transport you either way. I know this because during break, a young man asked if he could come up stage and play.

Our man was secure enough by then to play stage hand (the way Paul Simon letting a young female audience to share his stage)

and sit back to watch his reincarnation. The young singer was in student white , his song was raw and delivery green; but the budding emotion was there.

Old analog “Johnny Cash” will soon be replaced by digital new voice, new expression and new confidence.

That confidence says,” by these notes, I declare, you (the audience) and I (singer) are one, indivisible in our pursuit of happiness and heartbreak.” It will all be OK, however this is played out. Look at the man anchored  through time and turbulence, poverty and new-found wealth.

His steady hand still changes chords, changes CD’s and changes the audience’s skepticism. He plays at Vuong Tron, Go Vap District on Sunday Morning and Monday nights. But he had definitely played on the roof behind my house. I still remember My Sweet Lord guitar solo part.

He taught me that. “But it takes so long my Lord”. For me, 40 plus years was long but not long enough to change our man and our memory.

I really want to be with you, but it takes so long my Lord.

Osmotic effect

BlackBerry was blamed for London Summer unrest while tech proponents gave it credits for Arab Spring.

Tech is just out there, with its incremental and osmotic effect.

What society chooses to do with it is entirely different.

There will come a time when we do need to switch to energy-efficient light bulbs, paint our roofs white and use plug-in hybrid vehicles. All 7 billion of us.

I have always been fascinated with the Mormons in UT and the Amish in PA and OH.

They seem to have operated on a different plane.

The osmotic effect stops at their county line. Off-grid.

No stimulus, no response. No Playboy bunnies, only horse and buggy.

Meanwhile, 300 millions Chinese have been lifted out of poverty just as millions of American children are now entering it (boarding the school bus from outside of their motel rooms).

Osmotic effect.

With hooded sweats to cover their faces from London CCTV cameras, mass rioters force us to reconsider the Luddite‘s view. Has everything been too fast and easy?

It’s the difference between real noodle versus instant noodle. Try it to see what I mean.

The broth, slow cooking and osmotic effect. Something still needs time and not rushed into.

Like cleantech adoption.

Boarded up!

The sign says ” ye Bye Austin“, where in the past, one would spot special events such as Book Reading etc… Welcome to UT, Austin campus main strip. Welcome to a new world, online, offline and virtual.

If Borders and Blockbursters could not stem the tide, no independent book chain can.

BTW, with the passing of the Newsweek owner (who had bought the magazine for a token $1.00), the family pledged to continue “bearing the burden” until the Newsweek/Beast returns to profitability.

So much overhyped and many overbuilt strip malls, now seen with For-Lease signs. Meanwhile, Dell is joining others to build Data Centers. With the rate we are going, pretty soon, they will farm it out for people to host corporate servers at home in exchange for rent money (already, advertising companies solicit your cars, then your house, to turn them into stationary or mobile bill boards).

The partition of home and work, private and public, first and second place is blurred. Starbucks provides a so-called Thrid Place during the dot.com boom, only to see it turn into Second place when more people are laid off (BTW, men’s level of employment stands only at 65%, as opposed to 85% during post WW period. The later group got GI Bills, the US’ greatest investment ever). More plants are boarded up to, not just book stores, video stores and strip malls.

My daughter reads herself to sleep every night. The sight of a little girl holding a book just warms my heart. Hate to see it go away.

The love of books. Webster would join in to sing the praise.

To carry today’s tablet is synonymous to carrying a gaming device.

Reading has to compete with other sensory-stimulating distractions e.g. video, music, games, sports, news, e-mail and social media

Of all the places I least suspect independent book stores might close out, would be right off campus.

Yet, I saw it yesterday on my drive by (Borders used to be anchor chain for many malls, now boarded up as well). Entrepreneurs like Branson got his start on campus, selling records (vinyl). Now he has gone on to explore deep seas potential. Bookstore is not a store, but it’s a hub (not smoke filled pub) where minds are challenged and expanded, where Proust, Teilhard de Chardin, Mailer, Wolfe are read . It’s where activists can hand out flyers, and concert promoters tickets. Barnes and Nobles started out with the concept of letting people browse and read freely (puppy-dog sales).

Now this venue is coming to a close (digitization hurts newspaper and print the most, while magazines are still OK e.g US News and World Reports). It brings back sadness and silence, the like of the “day the music dies” when Tower Records closed its door. Ever since, music was still played and listened to, at the gym and on the bus. But it has not been the same: everyone seems to bear his/her own grief and joy privately (Guy Kawasaki I.D this trend, with the ubiquitous I-pod headset).  I understand now the rise of Facebook “Like”. Where else could we go to yell out: hey, listen to this, isn’t it awesome! Or, read this – look at this. Certainly not at the now all boarded up bookstore off campus, where the sign-off says ” ye Bye Austin”.

Joy of the season

If you haven’t discovered it by now, then let me remind you that children are the joy of the season.  Each day is a gift, and it is gift-wrapped with giggles and songs. I felt rejuvenated because of teenage tunes that I would otherwise have not known (Firework, Teen- age dream, The only one in the world).

The adult world forces us to take the “play” aspect out of the equation. But “play” is the main ingredient for innovation. It engages us, to spend time instead of “doing” time. Successful people, when interviewed about their secret sauce, always recommend us to follow our passion, then money will come.

Tell that to the Venture Capitalist near you (especially in this post-Recession era).

I admire film makers. These are people who won’t settle for second best. “Just one more take for my mom”.

They kept at it, until it’s perfect.

During post-editing, with the right sound track and cut-aways, they can evoke emotions, and yes, get us teary.

We did, at the closing scene of 24 hour, where Jack Bauer reminded Cloe when they first met (and what a journey they had taken together at CTU).

It’s not the journey, it’s the joy of travel.

If you don’t feel mad then you probably won’t feel happy. They are two sides of the same coin.

Even when our kids drive us crazy sometimes, I’d rather hear my kids singing along to the radio than any other sound on Earth. You bet I did not have to travel far to Concert Hall to feel moved. It’s here at home.

It’s here in my heart. It’s here in me, or to be exact, the extension of myself.

Each day is a gift. Sing it, share it and savor it. When you like something, time goes by fast. I know full well, I will only hear “teenage dream” long enough before another hit  comes along. But it’s OK, every song will have to make space for the one behind it. So is our life, enriched but then replaced by young ones’.

The bookmark of time

Recently I ran into a childhood friend, member of the band.  Almost 40 years in between.

It were as if I found a cartoon book, with a bookmark which landed me right where we had left off.

We could have been like two kids again, with passion for music and all things jr high.

He recently had cancer and miraculously, escaped death until then. An accomplished professional pianist, he  said he would come back to play in Saigon again.

All of a sudden, those tunes and those faces resurfaced. It’s like buying a ticket to a movie house which shows “Back to the future“.

No wonder movies could say more than any other medium: it got sound, image and mood.

The industry often uses yellowish lighting or black-and-white to denote flashback.

If it were a film, my friend and I certainly were in white and blue uniform, band-rehearsing our piece (3 electric guitars and a drum set).

My years in high school were rush rush. We were witnesses to political upheavals, fast social mores and intense clashes between modernity versus migration.

I remember our shirt collar styles. They kept changing during those years, from being pointy, to being round then Beatles‘ no collar.

The neighborhood tailor’s was doing brisk business.

Music was in Hit Parade, and fashion from Paris Match.

Boys and girls wore shirts so tight that they could be body glove. And those white shirts glowed when the disco lighting flashed on them.

My friend wore a wig when played key board for a Rock and Roll band.

He went pro.

(Ironically, he now needs a wig again with cancer and all).

We have so many unfinished “books” and they all are bookmarked.

The day the 7th fleet marines left a bin at the feet of the gangplank for refugees to drop their weapons before boarding, I also left many bookmarked relationships behind as well.

We call it legacy now. Just a flashback now and then. But one has to move on.

Each day is a new day. New “social network” relationship and connection to be established.

New way of collaboration.

But those memories stay there like books left on the shelves.

With bookmarks, for easy search.

My friend and I opened it right where we left off.

And in my mind, I could still see him with hair, 40 years younger, and a smile that was indelible.

Cancer or no cancer, our camaraderie sticks. Members of the band. Collaboration. Same beat, same tempo.

Many but one. Music dictates. In our case, it was Apache, by the Shadows. Got to go….to Youtube. Try it, you’ll like it.

Maybe it will land you where your own bookmarks were. Even first love, which melts away a hardened heart.

As of this edit, he passed away without another chance to play they Hyatt’s piano in Saigon. But memory of that brief encounter did bring closure to our chapter. Albeit short book.

 

Thank you Note

We don’t thank people enough. That’s a fact.

Bride and groom leave those thank-you notes at the door even pictures taken earlier in the banquet.

Efficiency over gratitude.

Sales people are advised to send Thank-you cards to get referrals.

For job candidates, it’s a must.

But what about situations other than wedding, sales referral request and job search?

Even quick notes on our mobile phones have “thank you”  pretyped.

Some people even say “You’re welcome” to remind us of the art of gratitude.

I guess the age of entitlement has overshadowed our sense of gratitude.

We deal with Third-Party, with institutions instead of individuals.

If we owed someone money, we would be more inclined to say Thank You.

Credit card companies, on the other hand, acted in the way that makes it hard for us to send them a Thank-you Note.

(in Now You See Me, the magicians opened the show in Las Vegas by saying “Tonight, we’re gonna rob a bank”).

In this post-Recession era, we all need to unlearn bitterness, and relearn gratitude.

One of the blogs I subscribe to mentioned “reciprocation”.  Someone has to start the virtuous cycle.

Then reciprocity will follow suit.

I am listening to Vincent by Don McLean. Reciprocity came a bit late for Vincent Van Gogh.

The hope for us is , in our life time, we will be acknowledged sooner rather later. A quote on Linkedin got my attention: “when you light someone’s path, it brightens your feet as well”.

Thank you for reading.

It’s been a journey in self-discovery and bonding with you, my unknown readers.

Like a singer that needs an audience (think of a Vegas lounge with all the “losers” eating breakfast on the house, while trying their best to “appreciate” the free gig on stage),

I am thankful you lent me your “ears” while I was trying to find my voice. Your attention is acknowledged and appreciated. Communication is a two-way street.

I need you more than you have come to realize.  Thank you.

 

Vietnam still loves reading

Huffington Post picks up a piece from Vietnam news, featuring used book shops in present day HCMC.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/09/13/used-bookstores-vietnam_n_714522.html

If you don’t know, you would think the city was on wheels. But in some quiet corners, you still find students and researchers actually reading and browsing

just as you would find at a B&N here.

The piece did not mention the rise of e-books, which is very similar to the rise of wikipedia when it overtook Britannica  i.e. used book shops will soon follow the way of Tower Records or note pad when I pad overtook it.

In the piece, we learn that used bookshop owners know their stocks. They serve as knowledge curators.  A prisoner wrote and asked for a list of books to self-reform.

Or some Vietnamese, before resettling abroad, sell all their books to these shops.

The stacks sit there, waiting to be discovered, to come alive.

The joy of reading will never be overtaken by web surfing or DVD watching.

One reads in order not to be alone.

Linearity triggers other parts of the brain, perhaps makes all sorts of connection and link.

Fragments of information finally joined in and mashed up to help one connect the dots.

The same way wiki contributors are helping to shape world’s evolving knowledge.

So used book stores in Saigon stood the test of time: war, post-war, and pre-industrialization.

All sorts of novels translated directly from Japanese, German, East European languages and of course, French.

They are there, dusted everyday, like ancient swords awaiting  for our heroes/warriors.

In this case, peace time has turned swords into plowshares.

It’s time to read, learn, and self-cultivate.

It’s time to build knowledge, to catch up with ROW (rest of the world).

I love old book shops. I happened to be born just a block away from them.

But now the journey for me to get to those shops takes  24 hours.

Still I know they are there, awaiting my next visit.

That’s the thing about books: wisdom that stood the test of time. A loyal friend.

 

electronics mart for Viet consumption

“I want nobody nobody but you” blasted out from, of all places, busy Hang Xanh circle, Electronics Supermarket by Thailand. Buy a laptop, got a free phone. Flat screen tv‘s, refrigerators and karaoke systems.

Should be the envy of our proverbial Maytag man since N American market has been saturated for a while. How many TV’s can you fit in the kitchen – LG double-door refrigerators already came with built-in TVs).

Now, comes the hard part: connecting all these “smart appliances”. For now, when sold separately, they are “dumb” appliances.

Dao Vinh Hung, the pepper-sprayed singer, bought a 5-million dollar house in Phu My Hung, completely furnished with bells and whistles.

His perpetrator, meanwhile, is out on bail (money pulled together by ardent supporters).  Tech and gadgetry. Mass produced for mass consumption.

There will be a TV show aiming at the upper crust (Managers and expats), all in English. Once the dish is on the roof, and the screen is in the home, people need to channel surf. With choice comes decision (and confusion).

In the US, paid cable subscribers often have to sift through a menu of programming, anything from Spanish soap to Euro soccer.

And Hulu is out to give the control back to the audience. Finally!

We have been talked at for so many years. Now we don’t have to shout out of our window like in Network ” I am mad as hell, and I won’t take it any more”.

The change will take hold with the next generation who are glued to I-phone screens, TV screens, and computer screens. Slowly but surely, fashion will claim its dominance (the old Rex complex is now renovated and ready for trading up).

District 1, playground of the rich,  will both showcase and accessorize the city. Look at me! I have it made e.g. watch, pen, jewelry, glasses, ring, tie, socks and shoes, belts, manchette, wallet (preferably thick), purses, handbags, hats, lighters and cigarette cases. (This reminds me of a scene in Line of Fire, where Clint Eastwood and Renee Russo, as secret service agents loaded with ammunition and gadgetry, droped one after another on a hotel wooded floor).

Meanwhile, out in Binh Thanh, people just wait for the green light, and listen to “I want nobody, nobody but you”, and the electronic mart was just hoping that blasting music will result in lasting impressions, subliminally ” I want nothing else but electronic gadgets for my home. Like Dao Vinh Hung of Phu My Hung.”

Now I understand the cult of karaoke. You get there faster by singing than studying.

E-memoir

Mark your calendar. Summer 2010 will be a bookend event.

It will be Gutenberg-like. It’s the beginning of the disappearance of Revised Print Edition.

It’s Google e-book store, where you can download the latest version of any book. Gone are the paper backs.

Or Large Print for that matter.

Select your own font.

http://www.tgdaily.com/games-and-entertainment-features/49631-google-plans-summer-opening-for-e-book-store

Our interaction with the pages is now replaced by our interaction with the screen.

A little divided (sight) as opposed to united (auditory, such as Audio books) according to Walter Ong.

Dumb terminal, long-lasting batteries, and unlimited “cloud” storage capacity make all this possible.

Books are now published on demand, or download. Paper or plastic?

Save a tree.

Somehow the image of “the Remains of the Day” (Bezos’ favorite book) came to mind.

A wall full of books, and the grandfather clock, all gone. What are there for the butler to do but writing his e-memoir?

I must admit the tone of that novel brought me back to an era where service is considered noble. And you could only get a glimpse of that now a day at Four Seasons or Nordstrom.

One of my pet peeves at Penn State was when students slowly folded their Collegiate only after  the prof had started to speak.

Today’s equivalent of turning off their e-readers.  Everything non-digital are “the remains of the day”.