Tag: tech and multi-cultural marketing

The We in Me

Here in Vietnam, I have to remind myself I am back to a world where you cannot simply meet an individual,  as understood in Western sense.

An example of this was in Good Morning Vietnam. Robin William, the DJ, was asking a Vietnamese school teacher out on a movie date. Guess who showed up? Yes, the We in Me: her and her mom, her aunt (just to make the point).

I guess for a start, one has to approach Vietnamese society from the first person, plural to have any luck cracking this cultural code. It resembles the Old Biblical references: son of Abraham etc…

One is defined by the extended families and the region of the country.

Many try to reinvent themselves: cosmetic surgery, losing the accent, marrying up, trading up etc… only to find on ancestral commemoration all the efforts have been in vain (back to being the youngest of the clan etc…).

I felt bad for myself, finding out that here, everyone takes care of their relatives (unlike my living in isolation in Florida, forced individualism).  It’s their version of Obama care: trickle-down blood relation/safety net.

At the core, one is defined as one’s relationship to others in the collective.

It wouldn’t surprise me now to see so and so son-in-law is taken care of by his mother-in-law: from laundry to housekeeping, from setting him for a job to caring for his children (her grandchildren in this case).

No compartmentalising here. Large household. Lots of birthdays, and get together. And when it comes to friendship, it’s our money, more than my money. No going Dutch here. And the circle keeps getting larger as the morning hours approach.

The S Korean young people seem to find a crack on the wall to assert themselves. I read about a street where you can find 40+ cosmetic surgeon shops. And most pop idols subject themselves to the knives to improve their appeal.

Nothing wrong with self-reinvention, of wanting to look like Westerners.

And those backpackers. They immediately realize their “good morning VN” standing. A quick joy ride to the top (tourist), then just as quick a descent.

Westerners or not, as long as you play your part: that of a currency leverager. Once you run dry, you are back to the individual-oriented society, where luckily, if being in the USA, you now have some form of health care.

It’s better to be poor here in Vietnam, than to be poor in the USA.

Who would want to sit alone in a Mc Donald day in and day out where the tables are fixed to the ground, accommodating the most, two people.

Robin William couldn’t have taken that school teacher and her entourage there, because of the sitting, the tasting and the out-of-placeness of that venue. No wonder years ago, someone said: “East and West, the twain shall never meet”.

I met the We in Me here. And I was still hit by reverse culture shock.

At least I can now see it clearly as Robin William did: Good Morning Vietnam, a people. Not Good Morning, you, the individual Vietnamese.

Saigon open-air concert

Local singers here command higher caches seven nights a week by bar hopping. But occasionally, like last night, they showed up at an open-air concert to entertain the mass. Sandwiched between numbers were the Viet-Kieu comedian couple as special guests. They talked about how the US economy barely stayed out of the red. And of course, they picked on middle-aged men and women who opted for cosmetic surgery yet were so stingy that they overdid (cup size for instance) it to save money.

I took it all in.  I noted that years ago, I was among the mass of young people at an outdoor concert as well. Back then, you heard Elton John’s “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” and the Doobie Brothers‘ ‘”We are American Band”. We were all-hair!

The CBC band was one of the highlights then. I heard them again in Houston a few years back. They were still playing at their own club but only on weekends. The once-skinny sisters/singers in the band are now in their late fifties.

Still, they shined in some of the French songs (Tous les garcons de mon age se promene dans la rue). And I am sure, their comedian counterparts are also doing what they must: traveling the distance in search of an audience.

The occasional breeze was quite refreshing, as rare as those few moments audience and singers feel connected.

What struck me was whatever the economic condition and whatever the political climate, people manage to survive, to love and be loved and try to make sense of what’s going on around them.  Here in Saigon, due to the weather, people interpret shared events over a Heineken. And whether the economy is up or down, Heineken is always up, in sales and branding, bottles or cans.

I was just glad I was among the mass. It took some traveling and resettling before I could be counted as one of them. One of 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.

Perhaps the best they can hope for are a few passengers per day, hauling bulky merchandise. Cyclo and modern supermarkets don’t go well together. Instead, it is now relegated to being a ride to 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 moto-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.

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 meantime, only through a mirror darkly.

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.

 

C’est moi

Obviously French. Not too obvious that the “tutoye” is permeating a culture predominantly focused on the collective Nous.

Weeknight, karaoke with live accompaniment.

Weekends, professional singers, one of whom singer/owner I heard came back from France (probably under dual citizenship).

This is a hybrid of crowd-sourcing and the old Command-control stage craft.

It seems to work. The audience enjoyed themselves (who wouldn’t cheer for one’s own).

Healthy depressurization.

Outside, it’s still a boiler. 40 degrees Celsius. Bike traffic is everywhere including on the side walks at peak hours.

Inside, the roses keep coming (with VN money wrapped inside for the musicians).  I held the mike, and let myself go. The song brought me back to Art Sullivan time, when he was sooooo young and vulnerable. Adieu, sois heureuse, Adieu, et bonne chance.

I never wanted to say goodbye to my (younger) self. Still here, against the wind.

Wonder if they have the lyric for Bob Seger, husky, uncompromising yet lava-filled.

At C’est Moi, you sit among people who at least can carry a tune. No need to torture yourself elsewhere. The best of all, there are pros sitting there, very much like American Idol, cheering you on.

I haven’t heard a negative comment though. Only the Pavlovian roses for group therapy. C’est moi. C’est toi. C’est nous. Not dead yet!

rollin, rollin on the (Saigon) river

Working for the man, every night and day… big wheel keeps on turnin,

River boat dining provides another view of Saigon Water front.

Hotel Majestic, Sheraton and Sun Wah guests look at you (dining on the river boat), while you look at them.

Tourists are still coming in drove and enjoying a night out.

From the gang-plank, I can see the unlit barge along side (and small speed boat, not Somalian though). Years ago, those barges carried human cargo. Mass of humanity, helplessly clung to the hope of a new tomorrow out there in the open seas. The “mini-mass” are trickling back. First as tourists, in cognito and blended in with Asian and Westerner counterparts.

Slowly, the feel of the place gets more at home: high-end hair salon and spa,

organized tours and menu in dollars.

District 7 now has  Lotte Mall, Parkson Mall and Crescent Mall. The view from those District 7  shopping centers and supermarkets in South Saigon could trick you into thinking you were somewhere else but Vietnam.

Construction crew heck away. English classes plow away. And of course supermarket registers chuck chink on. Reminds me of a childhood poem Au Marche, with glistening fish (reflecting the sun in open air market).

The Rock and rollers are getting older by the day, pony tail or not. But “you’re  still the one, I want” and of course, Proud Mary.

Rollin, rollin, rollin on the river. Tina Turner once said, despite her nth time performing that number, she has a way to deliver it differently each time.

I guess Saigon is like that song. You got to discover it anew, each time.

And who said you can’t swim in the same river twice. I just did, floating in the same river on two completely different vessels and traversing in opposite direction. Same river. that carries the process called Revietnamization.

 

iced coffee w/ condensed milk

You have to try it.

It’s has Vietnamese spelling all over it.

Relics of Colonial France adopted as national past time.

I have seen coffee stand pop up in most unlikely places: Palawan, Bataan, Cote d’Ivoire, Virginia, Lousiana and of course, California.

The ice are crushed. And somehow the condensed milk and dark coffee created that unique blend. Starbuck’s and McDonald Iced Coffee Milk don’t come close. Perhaps because they aren’t dark and sweet enough.

High-end chain such as Gloria Jeans, Highland and Trung Nguyen here in VN added another dimension: dripped coffee on condensed milk, then you can pour over the ice (and while at it, pour your heart into it).

Vietnamese from all walks of life have at least a glass before work. Many after showing up at work, then a second round with co-workers.

People here work on Saturday mornings, so lunch breaks during weekdays could be flexible. Siesta is not uncommon while shades are rare. Tropical sun!  torturous sun!!

A cyclo guy invited me on for ride around the block. I offered polite excuse.

In Little Saigon Orange County, these tricycles are already museum pieces

which get displayed in restaurant lobbies (Moi nguoi len xe, ve mien qua khu – Hop in for a ride to the past) . So were the horse carriages years ago which used to carry rich men’s caskets. Funeral processions used to be , well, quite dramatic. Now, they have a band of brothers (gay) singing all sorts of pop songs to “entertain” guests. Try to figure that out!

I have ordered my iced coffee milk countless of times. It will be in my top five to reminisce Vietnam. At night, people pop open beer can (ken), and the breeze carries these outdoor conversations late into the night. A lot of young people. Very few sleep a straight 8 hours. You gotta to be  in a hurry here. On twitter time. Everyone texts.

And you can install internet and phone connection for free (promotion).

A/C franchise of Pho, Rice and Crepe now catered to the working crowd.

Simple menu, predictable service, and clean bathroom (McDonald U).

Ray Crock would be proud to see his influence extended this far, geographically and culturally.  Not bad for a mild-shake machine salesman to die a millionaire just by helping restaurants figure out how to make faster shakes.

Here, I found the dripping coffee on condensed milk too slow, slow even to the eager waitress who came and checked on it every two minutes. Told you we are living on twitter time. Soon, we will not even use up the alloted 140 characters, or the full load of boiled water. Just stir and mix it with ice.

I will always miss iced coffee milk in Saigon, this time, without the shaded trees.  My view this time was electrical wiring nesting at street corner poles.

Luckily, the coffee tastes better, and people can’t lit up inside A/C stores.

Luxury brands beach-heading VN

It started with Gucci and LV. More will be coming to test the warers, from McDonald to KFC , from Starbucks to Burger King.   Everybody is into location, location, location. I look at the city as if it were a big fairground, where interested parties are staking out their prime real estate. Flag and flip.

Both AE and Abercrombie are selling well among the youth segment (XS size).

And Hollister also (if they only knew what cow country the place was in No Cal).

Floating dinners on the Saigon River facing an Japanese alley.

In the backpacker’s section,  Lonely Planet guides are sold and read like bibles: “don’t drink from tab water”, “make sure you visit the Cu Chi Tunnel” etc..

And “The Sorrow of War” by Bao Ninh, available as cigarettes sold in open boxes.

Westerners love Vietnam. It presents a challenge to their categorical living: Vietnam doesn’t fit neatly into their frame of reference. Now with Gucci and LV facing Hotel Caravelle, and Sheraton/Hyatt, with beggars and lottery peddlers lounging out front, the scene begs for an asterisk (*) in an otherwise neatly classified tour. I saw a tourist almost tripped over an uneven pavement.

You want to tour Vietnam, you ‘d better drop your preconception and expectation. Tourists can ride cyclo tour or Cu Chi tour, peddling and crawling around, but  you will come away never forgetting those indelible smiles:, crooked teeth but definitely no Mona Lisa‘s . Post-war hardship has given birth to an insatiable demands for goods.  Luxury brands are welcome! And coming they are.

Maslow and Vietnam

Tocqueville saw in America a country full of contradictions.

He could say the same with Vietnam: people are moving up the Maslow scale, but some want to leap-frog security step i.e. basic needs to self-esteem need.

Nouveau riches switch companions like Hollywood celebs. Forbes or Swiss bank lists almost 200 Millionaires (USD).

Everything is bought in cash. The money machines are counting them non-stop (Zimbabwe-like inflation) .

Dizzying pace.

Traffic weave in and out, as if choreographed by an invisible and illogical conductor;  yet there have been fewer accidents than you might think.

Westerners are seen running a red light like everyone else.  We call that adjustment. When in Rome, do like a Roman.

People here are more aware of health issues than in years past.

My cholesterol result is available in a few hours.  If it’s good, then two eggs please.

I can now move to the next step in the Maslow scale: security.

Love and self-esteem can wait. They have been there since the beginning of time. A man’s glory reflects in the beauty of his woman, and vice versa.

I will leave those to the drama department. For self-actualization, we already got Bill Gates and Bill Clinton.  I have my level to attain to: staying here and surviving here. Traffic during peak hour draws out the best in us, gladiator-like. No wonder young men wear black. It’s their body signal to the world: “don’t mess with me”.

Meanwhile, young Americans are also wearing black, but for an entirely different reason: they are into vampires.  Twilight stuff. A stage of neither living nor dead. Here, it’s very clear to me that people want to get somewhere, preferably up, regardless how many bikes are in their way.

 

Viet expats I know

People like myself are trickling back. Few are famous (singers, politicians). Others aren’t. First we played tourist. Then entrepreneur. And finally worker bees. Success stories are far and few in between.

But the Heineken are popped open. And the show must go on.  No turning back. The engine of consumerism. The Genie is officially out of the bottle. Not yet at the scale of Japan, Hong Kong, Korea, Singapore, Thailand or India and China. But the signs are pointing that way: more brand names,

more Pavlovian shopaholic at the top tier. Automobile show rooms are snatching up visible street corners. A/C and shirt & tie salesman.

“Follow me, I will show you” while turning and walking away (technique).

How many cars will you buy today? Cash or cash?

With or without flood protection?

Viet expats go ahead with caution. Few stay on long-term unless the prospect of coming back to Western countries outweighed staying here

(divorcee or retiree).

At least, it beats competing for condo in Mexico with fellow AARP’s.

At least you nailed the food and the language aspects.

And there is still the rest of the country to be explored.  Dalat and its hidden charm. Cha-pa and Hue.

Cities have their attractions and contradictions. Behind the facade and make-ups are young countrymen trying to make a buck to send back to the village. Hongkongese style. New York and LA style. Our urban century style.

Alienation and restlessness. Catcher in the Rye. Anything goes, until sunrise. Then the wheel churns again, spitting out residue, while keeping the juice.

Bookish Saigonese

It’s in a park. Penguin, Cambridge, and Oxford titles were available.

And the English schools. Lots of them.

Young Saigonese read and buy everything in print: Korean-Vietnamese dictionaries, and Almanach (French spelling) of Vietnamese Women History.

It’s the 6th Annual Book Fair in Vietnam. I don’t feel much different from the UCLA book fair I frequently attended.

I remembered the Logos ship came to the harbor roughly 40 years ago: floating International bookstore, selling Longman dictionaries. Wisdom from abroad, now here at home. WTO and the satellite, Wimax and Wiki.

We are in. In the next few years, E book will sweep the nation and the world. I will miss occasions such as this Book Fair. I will miss even more the young idealists who float the salty seas to far away shores.

I was both the recipient and giver of that very same service: sharing the pages and the encoding of human endeavor to make sense of their environment. That environment is ever-changing: Hot, flat and crowded.

Friedman and the Clinton’s bios are still popular here.

But I must admit, everyone wants to learn about the Future of Management, the latest and greatest in Marketing know-how and how to sell.

I hope they are well-trained. Because when the Fair strikes, I would hate to work for one of those vendors: loading and unloading of heavy books in tropical heat is quite an unpleasant task.

But while the Fair is still going on, it’s good to see young students browse.

Some of them even look up a word here and there. I did. I just want to make sure the French spelling of Almanac is indeed Almanach. They made a splash with a huge volume dedicating to Vietnamese women. And rightly so. The only regret I have is it’s still being written, the last chapter that is.

Thanks Mom, for teaching to pay for my language fee. Nothing is for free, much less books and prints.