Tag: Vietnamese language

Noodle cultures

Imagine you can slurp a spicy, mouth-watering noodle bowl on a rainy night.

Even when it is instant, thanks to the King of Noodles (they even have a noodle museum in Yokohama).

Japanese, Korean, Chinese, Thailand and Vietnamese; all love this staple.

http://www.bangkokpost.com/business/marketing/259168/tf-eyes-vietnam-for-noodles

Take the Korean and Vietnamese samples.

Both are known for North and South.

Both seem to have become what they fought against (Korean industrial might resembles Japan’s rising sun in the 80’s, while post-war Vietnam is defining its multi-polar identity i.e. Chinese, Franco-Russian, or APEC).

These emerging blocks interact and influence one another: young Vietnamese love Korean soaps and stars (Rain), while the Korean invest heavily in Vietnam’s young workforce (who might not endorse the 55-hr work ethic, due to the lingering French laissez-faire  35-hr work week, with coffee and cigarette breaks).

When these cultures export themselves, they stake out block by block, with the Korean districts in Wilshire District (LA) and Garden Grove (OC); similar pattern emerges as the Vietnamese found work in Silicon Valley or  Camp Pendleton near Little Saigon enclave.

Korean cinema, meanwhile, has drifted in the direction of its former enemy ( Japanese) by exploring the grotesque and domestic brutality ( the dark side of an industrial culture coming of age.)

The threat that ties all these disparage cultures (island-apart, literally) is the string noodle, originated in pre-Marco Polo China.

Even Samsung started out as a noodle company.

The Asian retail gal might be in suit, in compliance with industrial codes, but at lunch time, reverts back to her larger cultural codes (segregated, slurping and spicy).

Those culture groups now come face to face with modernity, under the disguise of free trade. Samsung or Sony? Toyota or Tata? Coke or Pepsi (wherever there is Pepsi, there is music, but not “the real thing”).

I used to work on the same team with my dear Korean colleague, and our markets were literally side-by-side (geographically, but culturally apart, just like Tijuana and San Diego).

Companies which try to expand to Asian markets need to understand these deep divides, the same as found in Europe or Latin America.

At least, shrewd observers can count on a set of common denominators i.e. food, fun and festivities.

Cultures are moving targets. But underneath, there are forces at work . The average person on the street just know they have changed, slowly, to becoming what their parents and grandparents had once detested (leaving the local village for a global one).

The collective self is giving way to the individual self (see Last Train Home, where inter-generational conflict was played out on their annual journey back to the village).

Consequently, you can take any of the above folks out of the noodle shop, but you can’t take the noodle away from them. Not on a cold day, or rainy day.

That’s what triggered the invention of instant ramen. Our noodle King saw a need (why all these people have to stand in the rain, waiting their turn to order noodle). That solution has been the key to unlock a kingdom, where modernity (speed, efficiency and technology – food processing) was married to tradition (childhood memory, communal activity and uncompromising taste). It’s all in the spices. At least, it was one of the triggers for Columbus to set sail and discover a rounded Earth. The end of all journeys it seems, is to come home and learn to know the place for the first time. That place, for a lot of people, has noodle waiting albeit in instant packages.

The Vietnamese pleasantry

A few days ago, we were entertained with a lavish meal, of all things, in a  wedding banquet hall. Being the first customers that evening, we ate in this huge wide open space.

One by one, the dishes arrived. To me, that’s a lot of cholesterol in one shot. But I couldn’t get enough of hospitality and genuine friendship despite the poorly executed ambience (they could have partitioned the hall to get better ambience).

Human connection more than often transpires space and time. Two friends can pick up where they left off  last time, be that a decade or 40 years in between. The old “bookmark” was a good place to start. From there, it’s time to mine empathy from those of the same frame of reference (in Netherland, the writer touched on an emotional soft spot often experienced by immigrants in America). It’s still unclear whether brave decisions, like that of Steve McQueen in Le Papillon ( to escape 7 times) was better than that of Dustin Hoffman‘s (to stay and plant tomatoes).

During and after the war, millions of Vietnamese scattered to the four winds, to neighboring countries or far-away ones (I met a family who open a restaurant in Cote d’Ivoire). I have seen how they shop, live and communicate (and sometimes, send back money). A notable experience was three-time evacuees from E New Orleans (North-South, East-West, and lately, Katrina returnees to rebuild more quickly than first-timers).

Given the historical context of getting “smoked out” of their villages, the Vietnamese overseas are quite brave in their own terms. The cultural gap couldn’t be wider (as compared to the wave of  European who first arrived to the US .) Yet, they thrive and survive the down turn, sometimes, by doubling or tripling up. Not as physically strong as the Mexican day laborers, the Vietnamese average workers ended up in assembly lines (Silicon Valley in the 80’s, then scattered all over including RI) holding on to jobs that have yet been shipped to lower-wage countries. Once out of the box, Vietnamese women have stepped up to be leaders of the families.

En par with American counterparts, they juggle cultural expectations, career choice (majority of whom as manicurists) and family obligation (in-laws living under the same roof). I have observed first-hand how my mom, a woman of mere 5 feet, tackle those various demands. In her lifetime, she faced two evacuations, spoke two languages and still managed to amass a huge savings from three decades of school teaching. It’s ashamed that those piles of money had to be tossed at seas during our trip to America.

Still, the grace and courtesy follow these women to strange shores. There, once again, they hold the steady hands of paying customers, assuring them that life can always get better, all along, bluffing and buffing. To them, no matter how it was inside, it is mandatory to show only their outward pleasantry.

(Yoko recounted this in her NYT op-ed,  that her late husband JL, protected her still to this day, every time she put on the shaded designer glasses to face the world, “don’t let them know they got you”).

Who would  know, behind those nail polishes are stories of left-behind treasures and broken dreams, and the smiles served as bribes to a better life. I owe this to one of those amazing women. Always pleasant with an enigmatic smile large enough to cover all the years of sorrow and struggle. The Vietnamese pleasantry.

Cote D’Ivoire as I recall

I set foot on Cote d’Ivoire  summer 86.

Abidjan looked like former Saigon. Both were built on French architecture template.

Next door Ghanians got shinier skin. But hearing French spoken by the people there made me feel at home. In fact, so at home that I, upon discovering a Vietnamese restaurant in town, stopped in for lunch. And they did not even take our money. Fellow countrymen, in a foreign land, as far away as one could possibly imagine.

The owner mentioned about flights from France that would supply needed ingredients for egg rolls and other authentic Vietnamese dishes.

They must have been one of the very few early Asian settlers in the country.

Then, yesterday, on the Newshour, we watched Peter Pham, expert on African affairs, interviewed for the segment on current regime change in Ivory Coast.

I have seen his book on Africa‘s affairs. And to hear him on air, was just as delightful.  The word “positive deviant” came to mind.

Instead of rebelling against strict parental and cultural codes e.g. pressures to become a doctor or an engineer, some people harness their passion to pursue something totally “deviant” but with a positive spin. And Peter Pham was one of those. Vietnamese, but expert on African affairs.

A few years back, I was also surprised to see a Japanese expert on Vietnamese language.

The depth of his knowledge about our culture and language would put any of us to shame.

There certainly were some drawbacks being born outside of the culture, but this also is made up by his objectivity and relentless pursuit. In short, he went in deep.

My short stint in West Africa was my attempt to understand a culture so different from mine. To experience the world via someone else’s eyes.

In Liberia and Ghana, I relied on English to communicate. But in Cote d’Ivoire, I was forced to pull out language I acquired in my early years. Oui, oui.

I wish for the people of Cote d’Ivoire the best, when the country can be stabilized and rebuilt to its former glory.

Its boulevards and police posts were so Saigonese that I felt at home there all of a sudden. That kindred feeling that is reserved only for relatives.

Former colony, fellows of the same dreams (in French, of course). I am sure people there can recognize Alain Delon, BB and Catherine Deneuve in an instant.

That was in 86. I don’t even want to venture about its current state of internal warring. And how a hotel that turned compound for the President-in-waiting can accommodate that much aspiration for change and modernity. Any disruption, if well-capitalized, can be turned into opportunity for growth. The continent is awaiting to see if election model work out for this former French colony. All eyes are on Ivory Coast, including mine.

The Elder role in Vietnamese society

I often interact with nephews, one in particular is even older than I, but all call me Uncle. To them, I belong to the previous batch. Last of the line. In the old Vietnam, once you made past 50, you are moved up to the “elder” circle (“chieu tren”) when feasting.

I had an occasion to do just so last night. I sat with much older people whose names I couldn’t recall, and whose silver hair I can hardly match. Vietnamese would commemorate their ancestors, more so than celebrate birthdays of the living. Past-oriented culture.

When Intel decided to put another of its Asia manufacturing plants, it chose the outskirt of Saigon.

In doing so, the chip manufacturer put the spin on Vietnamese time line. It will go forward from that point on. Chip set and not chess set (whose final move is to expose the King).

King, Priest, Teacher, Parent (and a host of higher-ups like Uncles). I see dead people (Sixth Sense).

Because of my “role”, I find it hard to be on the level with my nephews. We see each other, even hang out.

But we could never be friends for some reason.

There is a gap between us. It was put there by the assigned roles in Vietnamese society.

Extended families structure color coded people’s seating (just like airline class service). It would be interesting to have a software which help trace the Vietnamese family tree, so each of us can see how intricate the connection is, just as we learned how Obama was related to Palin. Hanoi was able to trace its roots to 1010, hence last week’s 1000th anniversary celebration.

People might be dead, but their city isn’t.

I see living cities. When something survives that long, in today’s modern world, it deserves a second and hard look. Let’s say this year were 1900, I would already be dead ( average life expectancy was 47.)

Call me Uncle, and see if I care. As long as I am not dead.

Vietnamese meta language

She said No, but her body language said Yes.

He said Yes, but his other language said No.

How to figure it out? Context is key.

Mothers love you your entire life, but never said “I love you” directly.

Teachers who were mighty proud of their students’ achievement, but remained stern and strict behind thick glasses.

Harsh society? Hardly. But one needs to learn how to decode it.

One moment, the lover scolds you, then kisses you the next  second.

Enough to give Westerners a heart attack.

Do not react quickly. Just paraphrase and confirm your understanding. Use a third party for independent verification.

Vietnamese is an interlinked society, way before LinkedIn .

My friend recommended “Com Tam Bui Saigon“, an upscale version of blue-collar broken rice dish. So I found myself dining there.

Word-of-mouth. Trusting “Like”.

Hard to break in if you were an outsider. But once you untangled the knot (after finding out that everyone seems to be related to someone else: from being an in-law to being a distant relative), then you know you are dealing with collective self.

Things get done, but not on your timetable. It takes time to build trust.

Lots of toasting and testing.

People don’t give you deserved praises directly. Even when they do it indirectly, praises came across as having been dipped in vinegar. It keeps you humble. On this point, it’s best to let others sing your praise. Self-promotion belongs in the West.

By nature, it’s a communistic (and somewhat stoic) culture . The nail that stands out gets hammered down.  You can dance, you can shout, but only for  a minute before someone steps in to enforce the rule (I experienced this first hand during my senior year: sending out some guy to rent a base guitar, just to see the power got cut off when it was finally arrived). Recently, a club (Feeling) got inspected with search warrant for running past closing time. Nowhere do we see this conflict on display then at the Water Park, where kids are into action and adventure, while stoic adults sit watching in complete aloof and alienated. Unwanted pregnancy used to be top of the shame list.  Now, it is joined by out-of-closet gays, abortion, interracial marriage and old maids.

Yet Thai Tai, Dao Vinh Hung not only defy the rule, but thrive on it (the former even went so far as undergoing surgery in Thailand, and changing his title, from Mr to Ms).

Imagine Vietnam as a boat, with everyone on it.

Rationing the morale, and rationing the meal.

Take your turn to speak, but make sure group speak has the last say.

Consensus, compromise and often win-lose is the way to go (the winner would rationalize that his win is for the common good. Hence, “hieu” vs “tinh” or filial duty overrides personal self-gratification).

To understand Vietnamese meta language, one doesn’t need a dictionary. Just be ready for upfront loss to hope for eventual gain. And be careful what you wish for,  just like the nation itself which is still trying to win the peace in the midst of urbanization and modernization. It will need a whole set of new language to define itself just to keep pace.

Jazzy Saigon

I attended Quyen Thien Dac and the Nilsson Trio (Jazz) performance a while ago.

Cultural exchange. But “fant” or on-the-dime invention is not new here.  Saigon traffic has already been jazzy, zigzagging at every turn.

I was with friends. He himself brought an ensemble of jazz men to Vietnam a while back.

Mighty proud of my friend who is multi-talented and multi-tasking.

I also noticed an “order in chaos” pattern here in Vietnam.

You might visit  Nha Tho Duc Ba (Notre Dame de Saigon) and  a taxi hop later, visit Lang Ong (the Grand General Temple). In one jazzy move, you embrace both a Church that glorifies the Maternal side of divinity, and a temple that honors a local patriarch who died a martyr death defending the city (of Gia Dinh) against invaders. Yin and yang, zigzagging at the highest level, both East and West. Young people are into Hospitality Management (to capitalize on booming tourism and the lack of service mentality, taken for granted  in Thailand . Four-star price demands four-star service.

Thus, at the service level, we still have room for improvement.

But not to take away credits. Young Vietnamese, having completed their studies abroad are coming back. Reverse brain drain; just like their Indian and Chinese counterparts (my housemate was toasting a US-bound relative last night. She will be attend US College this Fall).

Marriott is here. So are Inter-Continental, Hyatt and Hilton. Chinese building boom (latest horse-shoe Sheraton for one) echoes here as well, since constructors need work.

Everyone is snapping up valuable real estate and talent.

Need a musician? Done. Hair and make up? Done.

Even M&A. Things might have slow down due to the Recession, but many are seeing opportunity in crisis (young expat filmmakers have given it a try).

This paradox has traditionally been a Vietnamese trademark: thriving in chaos. So Thien Dac personifies what everyone already knew: the positive spirit needed to rise above one’s humble circumstances.

It’s weather perfect last night. And I knew I was sitting in the middle of change, and perhaps, might be swept away by whatever comes with it.

Flamencing Vietnam

The rhythm. The ambience. And the audience at Carmen.

Different breed. Different beat.

The Vietnamese singer tried hard at rolling her Latin “R”‘s, just like her predecessors at the French “un”, or the English “you”.

Vietnam, and Saigon in particular, has  always been a mix of culture: Cuban band on Caravelle terrace or Carmen Club nearby.

Not far away, you’ll find the Japanese and Korean alley.

All these venues accommodate a variety of taste and eccentricities.

A few million visitors, and 87 million residents. Even just the top 1 percent need a night out is a crowd.  A business man tried his hand at opening a club in California, thinking their expat counterparts can use some home-grown entertainment. He took a loss and closed it down after a year.

So, Hotel California did not play “I will Survive”.

Ironically, the pool of Viet Kieu would rather spend their entertainment dollars here, thinking it would stretch more. Typical tourist’s loosed purse.

Carmen, with Spanish decor and motif e.g. catacomb and medieval. Very pre-internet with candle and dark menu.

Servers’ outfit has some red on, female ones with flowers on their hair.

Flamenco, or ” I will Survive” in Spanish, all night long.

It strikes me as odd. In Orange County, where Little Saigon was right next door to Santa Ana (one is predominantly Vietnamese, the other Hispanic) you wouldn’t see a Vietnamese in a Hispanic bar. But here, in Vietnam, you  find even on a slow night, Korean and Vietnamese tourists enjoy Spanish exotic flavor, flamencing the night.

Passion evoked by the foreign element of it all.

In Santa Ana, it gets to be too familiar (scarcity principle).

Here, just pass the entrance, you enter a pre-medieval space. And it’s a neutral territory, since there has never been a Spanish War with Vietnam.

So, feeling safe, I joined in. clapping, but not dancing. Only those Korean expat women were brave enough to do so. Must have cost them a  ton of vodka and tonic . When the music stopped in between sets, they left. Probably went bar hopping. French maybe?

They can “tutoyer” over there then. Vietnam can handle that too,  C’est la meme chose.

deja vu

Yesterday I reposted “Invisible Man“.  Today, it’s about “invisible hand“. There is an invisible hand that definitely plays with events in history, and this Adam-Smith-like hand seems to run out of tricks every 40 years or so, so it seems.

In Understanding Vietnam (Berkeley Press), we learn that history seems to recycle itself every 40 years also

(29-69-09).  First the French romantic/liberty movement, then the generation gap movement, and now the consumer movement.

This time, with the confluence of technological shift, policy shift and evolutionary shift, we  see Vietnam emerge

and leap-frog (it now exports more handsets than garment) into the world scene. After all, it has

survived quarrels with three of the UN Security Council members and emerged unscathed (France, US and China).

Saigon Tourist (a Vietnamese consortium in VN) once acquired a SF hotel in Fisherman Wharf  for $44 million (as of this edit, a Chinese consortium has just acquired a development around the Staples Center in the Southland).

It’s like a bi-coastal mirror image of another Vietnamese hotel owner from New York (who by the way donated a lot of money to the victims of disasters in New York).

It’s about time Vietnamese philanthropy plays catch up. The Viet Kieu (Viet expats) community has another 2 years to  face its American version of 40-year cycle. At that point, there will be a hand-over of the torch to the second generation, whom , as studies often confirm, wants nothing to do with their first-generation immigrant parents.

Many FDI projects have been abandoned here in VN. Banks are stuck with bad debts. And companies pick up the tab to retrain their workforce, whose education ill-prepares them for the work world. The only sure thing here are young people getting married in drove over the holidays.

I have seen it before: the rush to spend, then withdraw syndrome to survive, then spend again as if there is no tomorrow, much less next year.

If any indication at all, the young demographics will take up on Western counterparts, from online gaming to online music, from lifestyle consumption to hopefully, a respect for the fragile environment. It’s deja vu all over again here Vietnam: eat, drink and be merry. They did that in war time, now they do it in peace time. 40 years is a long time, but then, 40 years seems like just a blink of an eye. Just try to hear the prelude to some songs you once loved, and tell me you don’t react on reflex as if you had done not so long ago, when you first heard it and felt it resonated.

I hope you love the “invisible hand” better than being the “invisible man”. At least, that hand might give you a chance, another dance.