Tag: South Vietnam

Be sure to bring some flowers

That voice which slows toward the end of the song as the chord changes:
“If you’re going to San Francisco…” accompanied by the 60’s signature tambourine, has died. But his one-hit wonder stays, perhaps more famous than the city itself.

It’s a state of mine. A period in history, with in-depth expose by Tom Hayden and Tom Brokaw. A new explanation and “a vibration” (today, we got “going viral” ). People in motion.  Keep moving. Keep evolving. Keep changing at the grass root level.

No one wanted to be “institutionalized” (One flew over the cuckoo’s nest). Individualism championed by groups and movement, ironically. Out of the box, out of the can.
We got Papillon, the Great Escape (both played by Steve McQueen, a San Francisco’s familiar face).  We got the ethos (youth), the prop (flower), the non-verbal greeting (peace symbol), the hair, the costume (Indian fashion) and an anthem.

I first heard the song right before Tet 68. School was closed due to the uprising throughout South Vietnam. With a lot of time in my hand, I practiced the guitar. San Francisco over House of the Rising Sun, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road over both.  The girls (older than I) were with flowers on their hair.

Later, when I had a chance to revisit Vietnam, I looked up an old classmate who had been paralyzed, When I played the guitar and sang for him, who lied motionless in bed,  he requested San Francisco (people in motion).

My friend was one of the “gentle people” I have met in my life. He is into poetry, music by Trinh Con Son (Vietnamese Bob Dylan). And he got paralyzed for rescuing some kids who were standing under a fallen iron gate.

People in motion, people in motion. But my friend has stayed immobile.

And the singer of that signature song has died.

Somehow, I don’t think it would end here. I know the spirit lives on, in San Francisco. People are passionate about the city, its livability, environment and ethos.  Legislation there is fierce and uncompromising when it comes to sustainability. After all, we want to see flowers grow there, along with civil liberty and civil rights.

Even so, be sure to bring (and wear) some flowers when you go there.

The Bay areas get nice weather, gentle people and lots of hills. I even ran a Bay-to-Bridge race once, just to take in the scene. And the Chinese New Year Parade there is the event not to be missed. That era, those street corners and the people once flocked there to search (for a new explanation) and share (laying foundation for today’s internet peering, open source, wikipedia and interoperability) under one huge umbrella: McKenzie’s San Francisco.

Heck, I was just trying to get to Middle School in Vietnam. And I just stopped short of wearing some flowers in my hair. Instead, we settled for those flower stickers, along with the peace symbol, despite living at the height of the war. RIP Scotty.

Recognize the face

Machine is getting smarter (facial recognition).

In “It might be you” Stephen Bishop sings about “if I found the  place, would I recognize the face“.

The face he has waited for all of his life.

Babies could hear before birth (the logic behind classical music during pregnancy).

Then psychologists theorize about us looking for that first trusted face (our mom’s or nurse’s).

I have talked to a bunch of xe-om (taxi scooter), who echoed the same theme: it’s hard to find “chan tinh”, real love.

Sounds hopeless to me.

But surrounded by young people on buses and on campus, I saw a different version: careful but calculated risk-taking.

Man-woman, man-man, woman-woman pairing.

If only we brought back Tootsie, “I became a better man to you by being a woman….”.

Men are built to conquer (biologically). Woman, nurturing.

They could make a perfect marketing team: cold-caller and customer relationship manager.

For now, we are at a juncture where men and women roles are being revised if not reversed.

Friedman’s Feminine Mystique needs its own 2.0 mobile version for Vietnam .

I don’t know about recognizing the face, but I sure have recognized the foods.

For the past three months, I have exacted my revenge.

Also, a good dose of music and arts (highly recommend the museum on Ly Tu Trong for arts and history and C’est Moi for live music).

During the course of my rediscovery (see Adventure in My Own Land), I stumbled upon “Cu Lao” where Nguyen Huu Canh founded South Vietnam.

Our own Columbus did not meet native Indian nor was he offered Turkeys for Thanksgiving.

But he might very well be.

We now have a city nearing ten million mostly young college students.

My job has taken me to different campuses, where I saw learners of all shades and stripes.

Part tech savvy, part social intelligence, these “faces” will be our future leaders.

Would I  recognize those faces, if I found the place.

I might. For some strange reasons, I feel closer to my now-deceased Mom by being here, than in the US.

Perhaps there are more faces like hers. Perhaps they put on Ao Dai (see Mom’s Ao Dai). I can’t figure it out yet.

But I guess I have found the place. That’s the easy part. The hard part is to recognize the face, as if facial recognition apps could help.

Papa’s shoes

When you karaoke in Vietnam, you are likely to hear Papa along with Hotel California and Casablanca.

Something ends with an “a”.

I have blogged about Mom’s Ao Dai. So to be fair, here is “Papa‘s shoes“.

At lunch, I was joined by a boy and his Dad (it’s common in Asia at peak hours to sit at the same table with complete strangers).

The attention that boy got from his Dad brought me to tears.

I had to turn away, pretending that red peppers were too hot for me.

Papa struggled all his life: French domination, migration to South Vietnam after the Paris Accord 54, and later, in 1985 to Virginia.

He was a flamboyant but family man at the same time.

Taller than most, he wore US large size. I shined his shoes after his siesta to send him on his “sales” route.

He was the only man still fought his turn at karaoke at the age of 80.

Most memorable was when I finally heard that I had passed the Baccalaureate exam (French lycee equivalent of SAT) in flying color, he pulled out his wallet for my friends and I to buy beer (we would have sneaked out to do it anyway). Rite of passage.

He stood up to defend us against robbers by night and bully by day.

And he got teary after I had suggested that he should take a trip to visit his other woman who was

still living in the old country (he was too old to make the trip out of the nursing home then).

Every kid I talked to whose dad had died during the war had similar regrets.

That every time they had a nice meal etc.. they wished they could share it with the old man.

That kid who joined me at my table had something precious going without realizing it.

His dad urged him for the third time to try a dish. I guessed he finally relented.

With every passing day, we are replaying the same old script: ignoring the moment to chase the shadow.

A line in Papa “…keep shoes on my feet” says it all.

Kids need shoes and their daddies.

To deny a worker his rightful way to earn a living is to deny another generation a shot at life.

Yes, my Dad lived the only life he had known how: machismo (punching out a cocky supervisor) and romantic (wallet with girl friends’ pictures) at the same time. His life reflected his time, often upheaval and fleeting.

He was younger in his larger extended family. He did what he could with the help of my mother (see Mom’s Ao Dai) to put shoes on our feet.

But in countries like Vietnam, a man is still viewed as a cedar, to fend off the enemy and dispense favors around.

I only look back to those warm moments e.g. beef noodles and book-browsing.

I hate it when parents try to put their kids in a jury box.

When they were both gone, kids, like me, are left with only half of each.

I guess that’s where selective memory comes in: when you viewed something or someone as favorable, you only see those traits that reinforce your preconception. In my tapestry and collage, I only saw my Dad’s shoes from a teen vantage point. And how large were his shirts and pants. For him, I did cry twice: one was cry-wolf when he slipped and fell down the stairs, rolling head-down  many turns yet emerged unharmed.

And the second time  was at his funeral. My parents are now resting in peace at the Serenity section in Alexandria cemetery. They had a rhythm of separation due to migration (war) and reunion. Both lived to be in their early 90’s.

Today, at lunch, it was about to be the third time. But I managed to hold back. I didn’t want that kid to see a complete stranger got all teary over a piece of hot pepper. Enjoy it kiddo, while the ride lasts.

OPP (other people’s problems)

We live in a world full of acronyms e.g. PPO, OPM (Other People’s Money), SOP, CDO, COD etc..

In big companies, Customer Service reps just get through their day, throwing around acronyms to feel they are on the inside, without thinking about “touchpoints” (problems as opportunities to upsell).

My cable acted up two days ago.  The CS rep on the phone failed to help, so I had to take the box to the local center for an exchange.

The reception area was tiny, the guard imposing and customers, many were old men, holding the box with no place to sit. The rep first wanted me to drop my ticket in a pencil holder (her makeshift trash bin), then proceeded to check my ID. If it weren’t for the sign that says “Comcast” , I would have thought I had been at a DMV (whose seating area was more comfortable. In fact, the DMV in Stuart, FL was excellent at being “civil servant”.  Comcast reps should come over to learn a few things).

Take away: we are born naked and will die rotten. What we have now is all derivative (from our lineage, our society and our global links). Customers will always vote with their feet and they don’t wait until November. No contract could lock anyone in. Companies should periodically audit employees’ “attitude” (Sales should pick up Service skills, and vice versa). Gone are the days of “yesterday we were nice because you were a prospect”.

In its place should be the kind of enchantment Guy Kawasaki was referring in his book.

There is a reason Nordstrom and Four Seasons got their J.D. Power awards even in tough times.

(Recent USA Today poll features a large percentage of consumers cutting the chords with their long-time Hairdressers, Personal Trainers, landscapers etc..).

The trickle down economy.

Even China is growing only at 8% (down from earlier 10%) while the US teetering over the red line. Not all emerging countries are doing well. Thailand got a centennial flood. Like global recession, global warming is not OPP. A UN expert on Natural Disasters opined on the Newshour that it’s 50-50 natural/man-made split, let’s say, in the Mekong River (logging, upstream dam overstretched…) or a Honda plant in Thailand was submerged while Toyota parts couldn’t get to us from Fukushima.

Jasmine rice from Thailand (with Elephant brand) will be in short supply next year.

Tomorrow we will enjoy Bill Clinton’s birthday concert, brought to us by Yahoo.

But we can not just download the good stuff (democratized technology) while ignoring our carbon footprints.

Technology and globalization are the two sides of the same coin.

A manufacturing plant cannot move overseas without dumping toxic waste into someone else’s stream and water supply.

Again, early civic lessons came to mind (a neighbor found a dead rat in his yard. He decided to toss it over the fence to his neighbor. The next day, the whole neighborhood, his house included, smelled dead-rat). Or as in a story about living down-hill from someone else’s farm. The act of helping to water a neighbor’s farm uphill,  ended up with the benefit of having part of the water flow down hill anyway. In doing good, we are also doing well (Henry Ford knew this when he decided on paying high manufacturing wages “so my workers can afford to buy my model T’s – in any color they want, as long as it’s black”. We will all need to relearn the concept of service in today’s hyper competitiveness yet globally connectedness (and not letting the machine-generated “Now, serving number B-52 at window number 3” announcement put us in a trance, or worse off, become machine-like ourselves.) Want another acronym? It’s called living in the age of AI (Artificial Intelligence).

Cafe sua da

Lately, articles about “banh mi” started to appear in the Bay area publications.

What should have accompanied those articles was Cafe sua da (Iced cafe-au-lait).

The coffee chamber sat on the cup. Hot water drips down, one drip at a time, on top of condensed milk.

Bitter and sweet, hot and cold.

It’s a night-and-day difference from coffee found sitting all burned up at a 7-11 near you.

Because of the long wait, friends start chatting.

So and so just got another divorce.

So and so is still alive.

The Brits got their tea from India. The French got their coffee from its former colonies, among them Vietnam.

Gotta have that coffee. You can hold the OJ.

“Cafe sua da” is found at practically every corner of Vietnam.

I found it in Dalat, at 4 AM, Hanoi at 1PM.

In Orange County, you can have it served by half-naked coctail waitresses.

Everything social seems to revolve around Cafe Sua Da.

Between the Banh Mi, Pho and Cafe Sua Da, you pretty much complete your hunt for Vietnamese export cuisine.

And the interesting thing about all three: you can order them at all hours in the day and anywhere from Bellaire (TX) to Bolsa (CA), from New Orleans to New York.

When cultures collide, there are gives and takes. In this case, Vietnamese contributions abroad have been mostly in manicuring,  cuisine ( as mentioned) and fashion (ao dai).

Last week, in the suburb of Washington  D.C, police moved in to make arrests at some coffee houses (charges false or true remain to be sorted out).

But one thing for sure, the crooked and straight both want their Cafe sua da.

I stopped by there once, jet-lagged and all, to find out I was their first customer. Traditionally, the first customer is supposed to usher in either luck or curse of the day (during Tet, it’s for the entire year).

So, to avoid this superstitious entrapment, I ordered my cup to go.

It did not come out right, because Cafe Sua Da is meant to be shared with chatty friends.

It’s a culture of coffee that Howard Shultz of Starbucks found fascinating during his visit to Italy. In the Vietnamese American case, it offers a half-way home at a Starbucks price, without the pretense of having your name scribbled on the  cup to be belled out later as if you were a regular. The difference between Cafe Sua Da and Cafe Starbucks was more pronounced during this downturn: Starbucks lost customers to McCafe, while Cafe Sua Da still holds, one drip at a time.

Cafe Au Lait has survived , transformed and migrated from North to South Vietnam, and from Southern Vietnam to Southern California. It’s still coffee, but the way it is served, sitting on top of the cup, has been the beverage of choice for many of us to start the day. When the coffee is right, everything seems to go all right from there. Now you know my hang-up and why I can’t stand the burned coffee smell at 7-11 or McDonald. Perhaps because of the way it is served there or the speed at which they collect your money. Yet who am I to ask for more, when for years, on campus, I could make do with vending machines. Those machines, I heard, now serve instant noodles. They said when you were hungry, your brain picks unhealthy food. Hungry or not, between instant noodles-vended coffee and Banh-Mi-and-Cafe- Sua- Da , I pick the later every time.

Recession consolidation

As soon as I got a copy of Financial Crisis Inquiry Commission Report from Amazon, I put it away, for closure. We got similar “reports” such as the Pentagon Papers, the 9/11 Commission Report etc…just for record keeping

There have been many levels of coping with this financial tsunami: million-dollar homes selling for half-price, giant tech companies acquired each other and personal debt consolidation (the sub-prime mortgage market and the securitized market tailspin  the middle class into the abyss).

When US non-essential personnel were pulled out of Egypt a few months back, we realized there were so many.

Has anyone ever heard of the 80/20 rule? or “tip of the iceberg” theory (90% perspiration, 10% inspiration).

Recession forces a lot families to “double up”.

Houses in St Louis, Columbus and Houston suddenly got a second look.

Rural broadband arrives just in time to accommodate “the rise of the creative class”, who can afford to choose where they would like to live (where there is a wi-fi connection and a latte).

Social researchers can easily take the nation’s pulse by seeing data from U-Haul and Penske. I venture to guess, the numbers will spotlight emerging clusters  where living is more affordable and jobs can be found (cloud computing and most energy-efficient data centers .)

Even companies are now relocated (incidentally, China rolled out this policy a few years back, allowing provinces to incentivize and attract capital and companies to settle inland), not just offshoring, but to secondary cities.

Newly relocated companies are perfect candidates to try private and public cloud. Another infrastructure accommodation due to the Recession (and while at it, get rid all the encyclopedia set and book shelves.) A school district in N Carolina bought lap tops for all school children from grade 4 and up. Less heavy text books.

Humanities shed some pounds. Thanks to the like of Countrywide CEO’s, Fannie this, Fannie that, who brought on unintended consequences : in trying to meet housing quota and feeding insatiable Wall Street sharks, they inadvertently reduced the size of America’s emerging middle class, the chunk of tax base which funded Fannie this, Fannie that in the first place.

The Commission Report purportedly sheds some lights on what happened, not to make arrests. So, like me, everyone can order a copy of hundreds of incriminating documents for pleasure reading.

But on many levels, things are still unraveled. Lives shattered and scattered. Unlike previous commission reports, such as the Pentagon Papers or 9/11, this Financial Crisis lingers on, taking its toll on everyone, everywhere. Just ask your day laborer . He hasn’t sent much cash to his family back home (I made a note that the financial services section at Wal-Mart hardly got any customer).

I am an optimist. My parents migrated to South Vietnam and I, Southern California. I got survival instincts. I know I will rise again, stronger and leaner. I wish for my coworkers, resellers and customers a better tomorrow.

If it’s too good to be true, maybe it is. How can people buy houses and swap spouses as if they were music albums and CD‘s. Those times still baffled me,

even after I got the Inquiry Report. It must not be the push, but pull factors that narcotized the late 2000’s era. Maybe there weren’t any specific culprit to nail.

Maybe we have taken a look at the enemy, and the enemy is us.

Facebook prosumerism

We have put in long hours, uploading, editing, “friending”, texting, in-mailing, posting, commenting, searching and even reading up on and seeing a movie about Facebook.

A recession distraction? or tip of the iceberg in what is finally Personal Computing and Networking? At least, computer finally “think” out of its “computing” box.

Now, it’s about lifestyle exchange (what he had for breakfast, what photo compelled her to share etc…).

I still remember the post cards, send between North and South Vietnam. It is today’s equivalence of  “Status” on Facebook. Except that those post cards traveled across the DMZ, much like North and South Korea today.

So, we have evolved, from tin cans to tablets, from post card to Facebook.

The Tofflers were right. Today’s Revolutionary Wealth takes on new forms, the principal one is prosumerism (whereby we take part in the making of the products and services we consume e.g. Stuff a bear, or submit your T-shirt design).

Facebook not only provides the platform for sharing, advertising, but also, a chance to jump-start this economy.

Let the game begin, again.

The rush, the drive. There will be blood.

Facebook’s own status: Alive and well. Still with the CEO in T-shirt and jeans.

Coding away or traveling to China.

I can’t wait to see what happens at the Oscars. Will they come on stage on roller blades? Tuxedo with T-shirt inside? Meanwhile, I have to log on to my Facebook.

It’s a daily ritual  borderline addiction. And I am glad Tina Tequila’s fans don’t follow her over to Facebook  from  MySpace. There was too much prosumerism in her eroticism. Mam, just the Face, Mam.

 

Viet-Am Third Migration

First wave: 1975, 4 “ports of entry”: Arkansas, California, Florida and Pennsylvania.

Second wave: 1978 -2008 South Westward to California and Texas.

Third wave: joining everyone else during this Recession to the Lone Star State, where 8% unemployment still looks better than 12% and 10% in Florida and California, respectively.

Part of the American Dream is mobility: chasing the tornado to find the rainbow in the end. If it’s out there, we will hunt it down, dead or alive.

So begins our journey, to the moon and into the cave (found one recently near Lao’s border in Central Vietnam – see latest National Geographic).

Like Gordon Gecko in Oliver Stone‘s latest installment, Viet-American, over a bowl of Pho in Hong Kong Mall, Houston, says, “it’s a game, a game between people”.

I have yet seen a set of more competitive people. They push their children and themselves to achieve and acquire: straight A+’s for the kids, Lexus’ for moms and Heineken for dads.

Pajamas culture in collision with Long Johns’. At least, both extol strong work ethic. Size apart, third-wave Viet-Ams (mostly in Houston and Dallas) found natural affiliation with Texan (machismo) in dominion over the land (agrarian bent), the sea (Galveston) and exploration of natural resources (oil).

Herd instinct kicks in. Warmer weather, Sun Belt migration pattern which already started since 1978 (with one hiccup during the oil burst in early 80’s – to preticipate Silicon Valley dot.com burst 20 years later).

No wonder they opened another Vietnam consulate there in Houston to ease Visa processing. It’s time to roll that dice again, Texan style. There was a Rock and Roll band already stationed there. The CBC, after a stint in Hawaii, are content to stay put (instead of “born to be wild”). The aged fan base got two phases of the past all mixed up: ball room dancing (French influence) with R & R (GI’s influence during the War).  Oh Suzie Q! Napalm girl now turned 40.

For the Viet-Am Catholics, this would be their fourth and final migration: 1954, from North to South Vietnam just to join every else in 1975 and later years out to seas, and risk becoming pilgrims at the mercy of pirates while looking for paradise.

Their sons and daughters now have Anglicized names. Some ran for office, others turned accomplished journalists. One of them had a piece on NBC Nightly News . Thanh Truong covered a fire-causing death of hobos’ in New Orleans.

Ending his report in a note of empathy, Truong commented “they came here seeking shelter which turned to be a memorial”. Let’s hope the same comment won’t apply to Third Wave Viet-Am U-Haulers to Texas these days. Just another untold tale from a lingering Recession.

Avez vous le vuvuzela?

Vietnamese soccer fans are eager to get their hands on the instrument.

It’s not surprising to see Vietnamese hot for soccer. I was there when Vietnam scored at the last-minute to win over Thailand.

But it is quite amusing to hear how vuvuzela is also making its way from South Africa to South Vietnam. Isn’t it noisy enough with millions of motor bikes honking all day long?

http://www.vnexpress.net/GL/Doi-song/Mua-sam/2010/06/3BA1D42E

Some cultures have an affinity to expressing themselves more audibly than others.

Hispanic events are always loud, so are the Filippino ones.

And Japanese events are the most quiet.

In the article, we also learned that in Hanoi, the demand for vuvuzela is lower than in HCMC .

The hotter the climate, the noisier the society.

The cold and rain tend to soothe and produce a calming effect.

The gods must be crazy in South Vietnam.

And World Cup fever is at its height. Blow the horn. Win or lose.

Meanwhile, in traffic, people also blow the horn to :

– announce their presence

– urge drivers in front to hurry

– celebrate soccer victory

In other words, honking  for all occasions.

In the US, if you honk, you will likely get a finger or trigger a road rage.

Intended and perceived message. Pure mis-communication play.

At least, the article brought up a good point: vuvuzela is not meant to be blown solo. It’s not like a sax which produces the urban lonely sound.

Vuvuzelas are meant to be blown in communal setting. In World Cup stadium. In South Africa. It’s so amazing how fast music (or sound) and sports can bring people together.

So does a simple instrument  (from the Roman Empire to today’s Arlington Memorial).  Wait until someone tries to blow it in Sapa or Dalak where nature will join in with its own hollowing echo, reverberate the (sounding) circle of life (Disney-esque) e.g. bushman and cave man, mountain man and city man, factory man and fashion man, hobo and homo: all free men.

Humanity will get its say. It just takes time. Do unto others what you would want done. What comes around comes around. I just hear the sound of one hand clapping.

What’s that sound. Everybody is going round.

worthless currency

The bus rider paid for the fare in Trillions of Zimdollar. Or else, a live chicken will do.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090816/ap_on_re_af/af_zimbabwe_zimdollar

I experienced this back on May 1st, 1975 aboard a Seventh Fleet warship on the way to Subic Bay (thank you President Ford).

We learned from word of mouth that the South Vietnam currency in our possession (my mom emptied her educator’s life savings two days before) was no longer good! From treasure to trash, educator to invalid.

But the sales guy in me wouldn’t give up. I ended up selling some of those worthless papers to bypassing navy guys in the Bay

for souvenirs (their coins enabled me to buy Coke from the vending machine).

I empathize with the Zimbabwe people. Money is money.

A researcher in Dartmouth also found US paper dollars tainted more with Cocaine (due to Recession stress??) than found 2 years ago.

He must have all the latest instruments for detecting tiny traces of the substance.

I admire University labs. Any TA can come up with a thesis to extend H1B visa.

One interesting finding in the study: Detroit, Boston, Baltimore and DC dollars carry more traces of cocaine than Salt Lake City‘s. It certainly indicates that young Mormon men got sent overseas for two years, thus depleting the potential drug using market in that city.

I would start a bridal service in Salt Lake City in anticipating for these guys’ return to start a Mormon family.

(and my ideal brand extension would be a baby clothing line, not Bath, Bed and Beyond, but Marry, Mummy and Munching).

That is, if they are not back from Zimbabwe. My stores will have to take US dollars , not foreign currency.

It’s hard enough to kick-start another consumer craze in this country, much less receiving Zimdollars for all the Chinese-made goods. Man, since when that things get so difficult yet so simple: start a Christmas in August movement.

At least it’s still hot enough to sell high-margin Victoria Secret summer stuff. Will you take live chicken for that?

P.S. As of this edit, London treasury bank notes are no longer issued in cotton. Instead it’s now in plastic. Signs of the time.