Tag: Vietnam

10,000 hours

How many among us actually put in that many hours pursuing one thing?

Yet studies show it takes that much practice to master a skill or a trade.

That long to promote ourselves to the rank of outlier : Bill Gates coding skill, the Beatles smooth performance etc…

Today marks my first 10,000 views of this silly blog, which I started as an experiment, to see if the Recession would break or make me as in Hemingway‘s Farewell to Arms “the world breaks them all…but we remain strong in broken places”.

I started blogging when I was married, until I am single again for two years.

It remains my focal point and commitment. To fail time and time again, and stand up if not standing tall.

I am sure the Beatles learned this lesson. They put it in the lyrics of My Sweet

Guitar Gently Weeps “with every mistake, we will surely be learning”.

As adults, we  shy away from trying out new things, meeting new people and going to new places.

We take the path of least resistance. I have friends who keyed down the karaoke coding for their song list, and started to punch them in while the rest of us fumble through the dirty pages of its song book. Apparently these people just want to stay within their range and comfort zone.

I understand the fear of the unknown.  I am living it everyday: from motor-biking on the streets of Saigon, to meeting new faces.

I often found relief, culturally, when going indoor, air-conditioned and culturally conditioned (English-speaking, pipe-in music, and preferably with a menu I can order from without hesitation).

The American part in me must be the true Quiet American, seeking and embracing the Third Force.

Neither here nor there. So sometimes, I escape to my cocoon.

Expats who came here from the Philippines, Singapore and America express similar sentiments.

They are a bit homesick. Like during this time of the year. White Christmas and Oh Holy Night.

It gets cool here but not winter cold. I still put on my shorts and T-shirt, sandals and helmet.

Perhaps it will take a total of 10,000 hours of coming back and living in Vietnam for me to hone my survival skill.

People seem to go about their daily lives, not in quiet desperation, and certainly, not constituting “the lonely crowd” as David Reisman puts it. I hardly came across news of lonely people commit suicide over Christmas holidays as I had read in the States.

On Christmas Eve, in Saigon, people just pour out onto the streets, taking souvenir photos, in front of major hotels (using  their decorations as photo-shoot background) and go to the church (Notre Dame du Saigon). The sacred and profane intersect that night like an annual eclipse.

It’s known as Noel, after the French. And well-off families would gather for Reveillon mid-night dinner.

Now that part I can relate to. The feeling of in but not of it, alone in the crowd, celebrating but not belonging.

Something significant takes place in those hours, of the crowd pushing but not hurrying, dressing up but not showing off.

Just logging in another year, an hour or ten hours toward that something called life experience.

Now that I have put down my humble and jumble thoughts, being viewed for more than 10,000 times, I hope I can detect a pattern. Some of you are also lonely, but not to the point of desperation. It’s our Christmas and Holy Night.

Someone important is joining our party. Might not “tenu de soiree”, but wrapped in peasant cloth. To the trained eyes (the 3 kings), it’s a phenomenon. But to us, commoners, our instinct tells us it’s an event not to be missed. Cut through the noise and clutter, we might find the gem. No matter how you view Nativity, Christmas is here to stay. An excuse for us to affirm our humanity and to be validated. Yes, you are still here. I am still here. Mistakes and all. 10,000 hours to go. Starting now. We’ve only just begun. With baby steps. With starting point in the manger or manager office. As long as we don’t lose sight of that child-like fearlessness, of trying out new things, seeing new faces and learning a few more lines of poem, of lyrics or famous motivational quotes.

The intent of 10,000-hour grunt is not to discourage us. It is rather a reinforcement and affirmation for us to keep trying and fail, instead of fail to try. ( I know the difference between this and the definition of insanity). Persistence is fumble after fumble without losing enthusiasm, says Winston Churchill (I have just learned this quote today). Merry Christmas to you and yours. Never stop trying.

 

Cancer and Career

At Van’s Cafe Ho Chi Minh City, if you stayed til the end of their second set of music, you would no longer hear Truc Vy doing her closing songs. She performed her set last week for the last time. Despite her late-stage throat cancer, she gave her best with composure and courage. I did not know that at the time. Just noticed how much of that vocal grace could come out from so little of a body. Now I understood.

Cancer-causing death also took  my friend, an accomplished pianist, two years ago.

And last week, it started to put down the name of its next victim.

There is a new singer in that slot now at Van’s Unforgettable.

The show must go on, like life itself.

But how many would pause to remember  someone, frail and fragile, now under traditional treatment in the country side.

They say when someone sings, he/she opens up his/her soul to you.

Like at the Voice final last night. 4 finalists. Only one winner. But we saw four raw souls on display.

To the watching eyes of million.

Truc Vy perhaps won’t go down as a late great Rock singer in the Hall of Fame.

But her dignity and demonstration of the human spirit actually propels her to the top, however short a time.

In her end, her beginning.

Diva she is not.

But Death is not her enemy either. She seems to embrace it like a part of life, in this case, quite fleeting.

It lends new meaning  to each day, each note, and each number she performs.

Now I know where that inner strength was from. From her months of wrestling with the invisible enemy within her.

Like my friend before her who smiled more than I did when we  met for the last time.

And who gave me more advice and care than I could him.

Why does it take that much for someone to wake up, to be more humanized and appreciative of life!

For me, I notice someone’s absence more than their presence. Call it delay reaction.

But in looking back to my now deceased parents, whose DNA definitely stay on in me,  I learn one thing: their time with me when their lives and mine intersected, was a gift. I opened that gift and used it. It’s a one-time thing. Unrepeatable and fully appreciated only by looking back. “Your children live through you”, like a line in the last stanza of Paul Anka‘s Papa.

Life is such a trip that no one seems to get out alive. But while at it, we make the best of that gift, including the gift of music. In Truc Vy’s case, it’s her performance on stage, with voice riding over the loud instruments and clatter of toasting, to reign supreme in a class of its own. No, Truc Vy wasn’t a participant nor winner of the Voice last night. She was perhaps at home, in the countryside, viewing it  on live TV. But at Van’s Cafe, she will always be missed, especially when it’s time for the last set.

A set is not a set without Truc Vy. Please come back to me….in Casablanca or at the Cafe.

 

Content poor

Latest study pointed to Vietnam workforce skill deficiencies, particularly in critical and behavioral skills (numerical skill was a given).

This study came not as a surprise. For years, kids have adopted a rote learning, picked up from peers and adults, who in turn, had picked up from earlier generations.

We are heading toward an era when technological platforms are abundant, but content wanting.

It is an equal of having all the stages in the world, smoke machines, sound machines, lighting machines, keyboards and sound effects machines, but no singer and composer.

Take the Beatles rooftop performance of  “Don’t let me down” as an example.

It was a winter day in England. Who would have thought of going out and holding an impromptu concert on the roof top, with “social proof” crowds gathered on the street and London police kept quite busy?

According to Malcolm Gladwell, in Outliers, the Beatles by then had played together for nearly 10,000 hours, first in Hamburg strip clubs, then elsewhere (except Japan where they were banned) before that memorable Rooftop concert.

Michael Jackson did buy all their copyrights knowing those were treasure troves.

Now, Bill Gates and tribes have risen, with Windows and Outlook for the desktop.

In short, the nerds have taken over. And there is nothing we can do about it.

Hardware rules. Until now.

Someday we will wake up and realize, what’s happened here?

Since when do we need to turn on the machine first thing as opposed to burning the incense? Bowing at the virtual altar and not the ancestral one?

Where are our priorities? chasing after the next version of the x-box at Best Buy and whatever OEM  happen to retail at the time?

One machine that has had some staying power (because it caters to a communal need): the karaoke machine. It cuts out the band (in its original meaning) and allows the mass to pick their own content and lyrics. Voila! instant party.

Cheers.

It asks little of us: cognitive skill (knowing which song and how to encode it), behavioral skills (how to take your turn and compete) and of course, numerative skill (tabulating the scores if you compete in teams).

Back to our skill deficiency alarm. If kids are allowed to explore and exploit their multi-talents, whether it’s in sports (Vietnamese women soccer team might score big this year, World Cup material) or music, designing or drawing, let the thousand flowers bloom. Move them up the chain of values, and not the chain of command (do you want to wage war forever? or else, why do we still behave in cold-war fashion?).

With inter-connectedness, mobile platform and dropbox, kids should be set free to pursue and optimize their lot in life. A nation whose policy is to blossom its young is the nation of the future. Take Israel, Ireland and India. What do they have in common? A national strategy and focus on IT talent infra-structure.

I hope someday you’ll join us. And I don’t think I am the only one.

Goodbye Saigon, pt II

Another friend flew out for Thanksgiving.

There is no such a thing here in Saigon: oven-roasted turkey, croton and mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce , yam and apple pie.

Mouth-watering!  children running around and old folks reminiscing the good old days.

Yes, his destination has a few hallmarks of the American Dream.

Here in old Saigon, the only thing that changes is new names on old streets and schools (no longer segregation, so it came with a shock as I rode pass the old all-girl Gia Long High to see the new mix of male and female students)

My friend likes the quote from T.S. Eliot (In my end, my beginning).

He knows the Earth is round, and that at the end of his short stay in Saigon is the beginning of his trans-continental journey to America and Europe.

Before meeting him, I carry water and chop wood.

After meeting him, I carry water and chop wood.

But he left a vacuum hard to fill. Just like our mutual friend, before him (see Goodbye Saigon).

They have sons and daughter to attend to, paper work to sign and friends to play catch up with.

None of us gives up on Saigon. We all think the place deserves a make-over, a second chance (as if it needed our help and opinion).

Rated as most competitive in the nation, Saigon is quite poised to soar and regain its former glory (Pearl of the Orient).

Skyline and sea harbor, street signs and shops, all compete for clientele. Back-packers have a hard time configuring  their Google-map routes. But everyone here knows or are supposed to know where they are going.

Young work force pour over the key board, while street vendors peddle their wares (walking Wal-Mart).

When my friend was here, we used to sit at one of the ronde’s, French round-about, to feel and feed on the energy of bustling traffic.

Afterwards, we would retire to his quiet alley just a few feet away to recuperate. It’s exhausting and exhilarating at the same time to live the night life in Saigon. More bikes take up the space a few moments ago reserved for buses.

Years ago, they stopped allowing tow-trucks to come through before mid-night. So on this Thanksgiving eve, there is no Black Friday here in Saigon. Only window shopping and online shopping. Tourists find it refreshing to stroll the old boulevard, to discover names like Majestic, Continental hotels etc…

Time seems to freeze-frame here. And we took advantage of this to “re-enter” our past (as if it’s ever possible).

American pop songs overheard from retail shops can lure you back to a time when you were first in love or discover love.

Don’t give up on us, baby.

On the other side of the trans-Pacific flight, my friend perhaps is checking out his luggage, going through custom, with the reflexive greeting “Welcome home, mr Ngo”. I like America. When being addressed by Mr so and so, you know it’s official and that you have paid your taxes and your due.

Consumer confidence is returning with rising home prices in the Bay Areas. I hope it spills over across the pond. After all, Fukushima tsunami waves got tossed all the way to San Francisco bay. Why not this time around, with rising economic waters from the West. When my friend returns, he’ll know once again, his next stay in Vietnam would just like T.S. Elliot puts it, “in my end, my beginning”. No way around the inter-dependence and inter-connectedness of our 21st-century living.

Brunch w/ a bunch (of jamers)

It’s my first time at  Van’s Cafe, 46 Pham Ngoc Thach, District 1 Saigon on Sunday morning. And I found myself walking into the door with 2 musicians I know: Mr Hai, on base guitar, and Quoc Dat (blind but extremely gifted jazz pianist, and a student of my now deceased friend.).

Before I knew it, people with guitars, chains in their jeans, rings in their ears, started to fill the room.

It’s a very rare place, if not, the only place where everybody knows your name (Saigon version of Cheers) . But you have to shout over their perfectly set acoustic.

Two sweetest Singaporeans, twice my size, recommended “banh mi bo kho”on the menu (that was before the owner, Khac Trieu, also multi-talented: drummer, vocalist, guitarist, clarinetist and keyboardist, ordered beef wasabi, Van’s Cafe new item).

The lead vocalist is named Rex, from the Philippines. He sings in English, Korean and Vietnamese (or trying).

My fear of  being new at Sunday jamming was dissipated, when Quoc Dat, with my help to get to the piano, started his jazz numbers.

World-renown photographer showed up, with Vietnamese wife and his daughter (who I had eye contact with to help me jump-start my Beatles‘ Imagine number). Other expats followed suit.

You can never guess what would happen at Sunday Jamming, or at night on the 2nd floor with scheduled Rockers, French singers (BTW, Christophe is in town here in Saigon this weekend), DJ at half time and open-mike jammers at midnight.

That’s when I met our regular clubbers-turned-friends like Willie and Warren, Danny and Bill.

And of all people, my friend from childhood also showed up. Apparently all roads lead to Rome for music lovers.

So come, for the food and the fun, the music and musicians. You won’t be disappointed as I have found out.

But don’t come too early. Live music starts at 9:30PM 7 nights a week. With Sunday morning, we can call it 8 days a week at Van’s Cafe here in HCMC. See you one of these beautiful sundays or, if you want to dance too, then after 9:30PM 7 days a week.

“You may say that I am a dreamer. But I am not the only one. We hope someday you’ll join us…..”

Positively positive

Same set of situation, variety of readings.

Rashomon effect.

In Vietnam, if you ran into a funeral, it’s luck.

Wow! Positively positive.

The deaths live on in the family, albeit high up on the altar.

Part of one another forever.

Unlike in the US, health care for all is health care for none (shut down).

Negatively negative.

Here in Vietnam, the recycle mentality is quite ingrained: even in the soaking rain, I saw a lady wearing rain gear, picking up a plastic bottle. Not sure how much she earns from the act, which Bill Gates once said he wouldn’t be bothered.

And those with legs cut off would ride their manual cart to sell lottery tickets.

Positively positive.

Those who won a lump sum often spent it all in one place.

Those who sell those tickets keep on with their daily grind.

Positive begets positive.

A butterfly flapping its wings. A dog “saying goodnight” (It’s a Wonderful World).

A stanza of Samba by the Santana.

Even Requiem by Mozart, written for his own funeral. All positive.

Or Steve Jobs and his I phone, I tunes and I pad.

Or Tom Clancy and his much-anticipated publication after his death.

George Harrison has a song called “What’s life” and “My sweet guitar gently weeps”.

Play it on your rainy day?

Positively positive.

Life will get you at your least suspected moment.

Up to you to spot that rainbow and the starfish.

Or succumb to the Rashomon Effect. When in doubt, stay positive. And not just positive, but positively positive.

 

 

 

 

To beat a dead horse

Even to this day, people still using the Vietnam War as a figure of speech: “Syria will be another US‘ Vietnam” etc…

It was meant to be the new Boogeyman. To scare off the children. To conjure bad imagery and bring back nightmares.

In Rambo, Stallone’s rare line was “where they call Hell, I call Home”.

Occasionally, we read about the Powell Doctrine (purportedly derived from Vietnam War) i.e. if engaged at all, finish it quickly.

Not to beat a dead horse, Vietnam War has been like the Wave, in a football stadium. After a while, it dies down. Don’t try to start one yourself, without feeling silly. It’s like the Bee Gees “I started a joke”.

The irony is, both Kerry and Hagel were by-products of US involvement in Vietnam (not to mention McCain).

A generation comes of age in “Hell”. Trial by fire, baptized by fire.

Hot war on cool medium. America first Television War (pre-CNN era).

Now we got Al Jazeera, whose host died yesterday (David Frost – so, tell me, Mr Nixon, when a president does something, it’s not illegal?). It’s like the Vietnam War got covered by South East Asian News Network. “Unbias” and In-depth coverage.

After all, it’s their region and they know the conflicts as the back of their hands.

With that kind of money buying out Current TV, A J Network is poised for the new theater of war.

The gods of vengeance has moved from Europe to Asia, and now onto the Middle East. I don’t smell the smell of jasmine.

Nor do I smell napalm. This time, you can’t see nor can you smell anything.. Just drone and precision striking.

Powell doctrine + powerful broadband. Yet they still use Vietnam as a figure of speech. For fear of being dragged in.

For fear of war fatigue. I hear the other side saying “So what you’re gonna do about it” ( I used chemical weapon, so what?).

Go ahead, and call 911. It will be another Vietnam for you e.g. quagmire, divided nation, deficit, and post-traumatic disorder.

Where they call “Hell” you shouldn’t call “Home”. But then, can you sit still when your neighbors keep beating the kids, not with stick, but by spraying deadly poison. Wouldn’t you call 911 and to Hell with it. Another Vietnam? So what! Let it be.

Mac Miracle

My friend kept listening to Roger Waters‘ It’s a Miracle, whose lyric includes “they’ve got MacDonald in Tibet“.

Now, they’ve got MacDonald in Vietnam. More miracle!

Thomas Friedman put a spin on an old geo-political theory, which states that any two countries, with a MacDonald,

are least likely to engage in an arm conflict. In this latest case, it already happened. Next week, the two heads of States will meet up in Washington (fries or egg rolls?)

It’s been a long long road, from running girl (napalm) to running man (Arsenal).

In between, we got a bunch of walls (from Memorial Wall to moving wall) and a bunch of bridges.

From feeling betrayed to being bridged.

Ray Kroc would have been proud: shake shake shake, shake your conveyor milkshake.

Tourists would find a cocoon: coffee at Starbucks and a miracle at MacDonald (want fries with it?).

Modernization and urbanization are here to stay.

The last pitch is ” for here or to go”?

Industrial world wins out, to the last drop of ketchup (Heinz) in the bag.

Squeeze it!

Fast food, slow burn.

I am proud then I am sad.

It’s a miracle, yet it doesn’t feel exhilarating.

After all, it’s 2013. Countries are exploring space travel in Mars.

Colonization itself has found new frontier in outer space.

And we can barely find a clean bathroom here on Earth.

With machine-like efficiency, people raise expectations: like, yesterday.

Consistency, predictability and value. In short, brand value.

Hooters itself is having a make-over. With every new “convert”, its chain finds its renewed commitment to core values.

The frontier might not look that promising, but it’s important to its founders and its faith: that its multiplier effect will pay off. And with its new location, new customer life-time value, the brand is strengthened and not threatened.

Growth is not only the result of health. It’s necessary. It’s miracle, yet it’s natural. Anyone can shake the milk, cook the beef and fry the potato. But not all can maintain a clean bathroom, and the consistency of billions hamburgers served.

The Golden Arch will be here (yellow on red is just a co-incidence). It’s another miracle in a series of modern-day event. I fear for the ice cream stores nearby. Can’t beat the value of vanilla on cone, for just under a buck. Fully A/C.

I forwarded the announcement to my friend, hoping the next time he put on “It’s a miracle”, he would think of me,

his repat friend, in search of clean restroom and true miracle in modern age.

Caught in the thick of rain

It’s not Les Parapluis de Cherbourg , or Catherine DeNeuve with her trench coat.

Just anything over the head to stay, well, less wet.

We got out of the pool, just to be wet all over again.

Tropical summer.

Impeding traffic and time planned.

Here in Vietnam, it takes a lot just to stay cool and dry.

Survivalist and minimalist.

Yet, magician is coming in town for three days of show.

Guy Kawasaki will also be here, to tell his Standford basket ball story.

And the controversial Bob Dylan was also here a while ago.

Jane Fonda started it all (by visiting Hanoi), then Bob Hope and Raquel Welch in the South.

From then, it’s like, you got to make a stop at the once-a-battle-field, to gain street cred.

Bill Gates, Mark Zuckeberg, Robert De Niro, Brad and Angela have all made this stop.

Mind you. It’s not a major airline hub.

But famous people want it incognito (The Pitts visited Con Dao Island, once a French prison).

I am sure these people got hit by the heat, the dust and the rain.

Call it “Roughing it in Vietnam”.

Their own Matterhorn.

To feel the Sorrow of War.

The  sadness of summer.

The frustration of dream unfulfilled.

What made people leave the comfort of their own homes, to come to a God-forsaken place.

Traffic is everywhere, especially at the French Colonial Roundabout.

You can’t even stand it, if it’s in Paris.

Yet people endure and emerge.

Having tried it hard to play catch up since 1985 and after, the country has been on the path of growth.

The trajectory went nicely for about twenty odd years, until recently.

Then, the rest is what is taken place now.

With its own “valley of death”.

Too much growth heats up inflation.

Too slow, the economy might crash.

It takes a village, albeit without the young people who had already migrated to urban centers, to come to term with modernity and progress.

Even with the best malls and fastest fast foods, no one can discount the force of nature.

So it rains, pouring rain.

And everyone dashes in and out of traffic trying to stay dry, to survive.

Nature, and human nature, are both blessing and curse.

Geography aside, human spirit and its resilience is all that’s left and working for this country.

I can’t hear the sound track of “It’s a wonderful world” today as played in Good Morning Vietnam.

I hear the chewing gum commercial of Rhythm of the Rain. And maybe Happy Together, to sell some Heineken, good to drown down one’s sorrow, amidst of misery, man-made or otherwise.

Summer Sadness

Some kids revisited their Summer 1942. Coming of age.

Others, say in Vietnam, are ready for bigger stage.

A Linkedin connect started her SQUAR in emerging Myanma, just core viable product, to be perfected as time goes along.

Summer separation and sadness. Summer also brings reunion and reassessment.

It’s Q3 for business people.

Abenomics or any-omics, as long as Japan gets out its deflationary state. Egyptian want their first-year President out.

They have gotten used to protest and counter-protest.

Summer blockbusters range from the Great Gatsby to  Now You See Me (Now You Don’t). Abracadabra!

Or as our own Alan Phan, “say a prayer”, like a virgin.

I remember when California elected Arnold. The commentary back then was, “it doesn’t matter which monkey is in charge”.

The budget was way out of balance then.

Now, Gov Brown has imposed strictest order on the fiscal affairs of the State, used to be called, Golden State.

Surprisingly, Arnold was quoted in one of the beer consumption studies, which shows Vietnam at the top of the list.

Praying and drinking. Drown out our sadness and sorrow. Sharing our moments.

And never give up hope that our best days are yet behind us.

Summer Sadness. It brings understanding and perspective

In Norwegian Wood, our Toru Watanabe looked back at his last year in college, and suddenly, understood the deep pain college girl friends feel (two suicides, male and female to be fair).

We all had our 1942’s and 69’s.

Of eating dorm food and from vending machine.

Of all-nighter and crammed for finals.

Then, what’s next?

Be an entrepreneur or employed?

Looking forward or backward?

There will always be next summer.

But this summer is a hot one. An inconvenient truth.

Of torrential rain and perpetual austerity.

Of not much hope for an improved GDP anywhere.

Tourism is up as the temperature heats up.

Can’t find a decent paperback to pack along.

Be sure to wade the water and if things come along, as they always do, live your 1942 so you have something to think back in old age.

Best way to live life is to pretend to look back to the present from the vantage of the future, then live it to no regret.

No regret, no sorrow. No sorrow, no sadness. Summer or not. One’s happiness cannot be conveniently measured by a thermometer. But if there were such thing as Global Warming measurable from the outside, it should also affect what’s inside. Now, that’s something we can do something about. And it’s the most inconvenient truth about ourselves we often refuse to admit.