Romancing Saigon

Good luck! Bit it’s better  for you to wait until the scorching heat subsides, before you have a chance.

There are layers to Saigon, like you would peeling an onion.

Cafe Sua Da prices fluctuate from one street corner to the next.

On the main tourist strip, you still find Zippo lighters and even dog tags next to pirated copies of Vietnam War classics.

In fact, you don’t need to visit the museum of war (atrocities) to turn the clock back. The whole city could be viewed as a museum of war. The battle of ideology 1963, battle of Tet 1968 all took place here . Just walk the streets, you can relive the intensity of those struggles. Yet, in danger, there are romances. People live faster lives (translated to shorter ones). Self-immolated monk wasn’t the only one who burned himself to nirvana. Privileged youth are fast-tracking there as well, a phenomenon familiar to US “urban youth” (whose life expectation has  been rumored to be just above the legal drinking age.) Here, it’s already an improvement as compared to back then when widows and orphans were common.

A plane load of orphans took off and crashed just before the city itself “fell” to the hands of victors.

Now, you find bars. reincarnated versions of what used to be night clubs, hang-out places for GI‘s and their unspent payrolls. Today, beers popped open. Conversation started, most of which like two ships passing in the night. And young backpackers, many of  whom with Lonely planet’s guide, searching frantically to geo-ID themselves.

Oh well, drop those guides. Follow your instincts. Live a little. risk a little. Romance it. Don’t expect everything is set.

But then, what do you expect. War time might be over, but it’s still a “war zone”.

Can’t miss that tank on permanent display at Independent Palace.

Yes, you will find romance, but the price is to drop your guards, your expectations and prejudices. Saigon and Vietnam always reward seekers. But serious inquirers only. And the down payment is stiff, once paid in blood during the conflict.

And pain lingers on. Someone has to pay for reparation. It might as well be you. And you, and you. Sorry to pass on the virus which I myself have contracted while romancing Saigon.

Underneath is Love

Companies outsource Y2K tech work, then while at it, their software development.

From manufacturing to marketing, R&D to customer care , jobs went overseas to cut costs.

Then we tout culture-building, crowd-sourcing etc…

The truth is, we did not care about our customers or corporate culture.

Yet, it’s culture that reinforces brand.

Weak corporate culture links to weak brand.

From Zippo to Zappos, we see that companies which care always win in the end.

Apple is sitting on a mountain of cash ( near Mountain View) while the FED is predicting another 18 months to full recovery.

The economy has been divorced from life, as if mathematics could exist without math teachers.

Beginning students can tell you that far from it, economics is closely linked to real life (Valentine Day spending? Teacher’s Day bouquet).

We have focused on the transactions and not the people doing the buying and selling.

Great companies know how to get the right mix of technology (efficiency) to free up its people for customer care (effectiveness).

Zappos deliberately designs its work space to foster collaboration and fun culture.

In-and-Out Burger championed a work ethic second to none (mouth-watering double-double).

Customers are intelligent creatures.

As we outsource, automate and streamline our workload, let’s keep it in-house the customer care department.

Customers are not kids to be sent to day care. They call because they have some concerns that need immediate resolution.

When done right, these are our evangelists and advocates. Millions of these transactions will turn complaints into compliments.

Want to ride the wave to the mountain (of cash)? Love the ones you have. They are still the ones who are easier to keep than acquire.

Burning flesh, jasmine scent

I used to live just a few blocks from where it happened on that fateful day in 1963.

As an active kid, I joined the throng to witness history in the making: monk’s self-immolation as a peaceful act of protest against the Diem’s dictatorship.

The city had been permeated with the smell of tear gas on days leading up to this event http://www.time.com/time/world/article/0,8599,2043123,00.html

We rubbed lime to soothe our eyes’ sore.

When I read about Tunisians tweet and text to recommend Coke for eye relief, it brought back memories .

The jasmine revolution got its start from those similar flames. Flames of conscience objectors who preferred death to drift and dignity to dumb-down.

We have watched with incredulity how a Zippo flip from Tunisia could inflame the streets of Cairo.

And how quickly the scent of jasmine spread in carosene region .

People pray and people pay the price (thanks to the doctors who bandaged the wounded) to bring down Pharaoh. Instead of casting votes, they cast stones. As I can recall, it was serene and surreal at the intersection of Le Van Duyet and Phan Dinh Phung street . Young monks chanted quietly to send their master to Nirvana. There were a few hundred present at the event (including an award-winning NYT war correspondent).

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Peaceful and principled.

Every body knew what it was all about: the Diem’s family ruled the country: big brother was president, younger brother – head of internal security, and his wife, unelected spoke person for the regime. Madame Nhu was quoted in a press conference (perhaps on her shopping trip abroad, though not for as many shoes as counterpart  Imelda Marcos) “they are welcome to barbecue themselves ….”

History recorded that her husband and brother-in-law, dictators of former Vietnam, were assassinated on their way to the Chinese District. Their deaths weren’t honored and their departures not as peaceful as the monk’s. “What good for a man to gain the world and lose his own soul”.

If you were to witness that sudden burst of flame, and the resolute stillness of the monk, you, like I, would never forget. It will be the same years from now about that jasmine scent that floats from Tunisia to Egypt and onto Libya.

Use lime, it’s better than Coke.