Back (T)Here: Self-Integration

Taking UCHANU with us: "How can I integrate the experiences of the semester into my life, and in what concrete ways can I remain connected to UCHANU and Vietnam?"

**Long Post Coming Up**

Dentist: "You're going to Vietnam? For how long? Are you going there for vacation?"

Me: "No. I'm actually going to be studying abroad there for a semester, 5 months."

Dentist: "Really? What in Vietnam will you be studying about? The education there is not good as the US'. There's nothing there besides tourism."

Me: "I've realized that it's time to go back to my family's homeland I think this is my perfect chance to do it. The education in the classroom may not be the best, but I think when it comes to my identity, family history, and culture, it may be worthwhile."

Dentist: "Oh, that's good. Just make sure you don't get STDs. The girls there are vicious!"

Me: "Oh my. I'll be sure to watch out for that."

Dentist: "Hehe. Be very careful!"

I remember after taking off my braces this summer, and I had to stop by the dentist to get my teeth cleaned. We had a little discussion about my prospects for the fall semester so we continued to talk about Vietnam. I transcribed this dialog from memory from 5 months past. Like this discussion, other discussions about Vietnam with other people whether family, family friends, or friends often revolved these themes of "backwardness": lawlessness, dangerousness, theft, getting ripped off, cheap goods, "lack of freedom," marriages (love interests) to get to the US, deceit/trickery, and so on. Indeed a lot of negative sentiments and stereotypes associated with Vietnam. Some who commented had been to Vietnam while some others had not, yet still had opinions about it. Probably those who hadn't been "back" were influenced by the perspectives of family and/or media. Up until departure, I continued to defend Vietnam in discussions and my motives for going, even when I hadn't been there yet.

Another time, after I had shared the trailer to the first Vietnamese Hip Hop Movie coming out in December Saigon Electric on YouTube, I remember talking to my friend about Hip Hop and Vietnamese in Vietnam practicing it. He told me "It's awkward seeing Vietnamese people practice Hip Hop because they aren't as modern like South Korea or Japan." He elaborated "Their style... it's just a replication of more advanced Asian countries. It's just doesn't seem 'right.'" Thereafter for at least 15 minutes, we had a long discussion about "Who really is qualified to practice Hip Hop?" and where did such feelings of awkwardness come from? Why is it okay for other East Asian countries to be like us and our friends in America, and not Vietnam? Although I was again defending Vietnam, in the back of my mind I did feel somewhat the same way too.

As a child going to Vietnamese Sunday school close by my home, there was little to no mention of the country of Vietnam. Up until high school, I thought for awhile that the yellow flag with three red stripes was in fact the flag used for the Vietnamese community here and homeland. When it did get mentioned, the war would automatically be brought up as though Vietnam was isolated in time. Through these years I developed self-definition accordingly in opposition to my parents. Home and the outside were to be separated. Vietnamese was spoken only at home and at Vietnamese school. If it were spoken anywhere else, it would be awkward. Even up until college, I felt weird having discussion in Vietnamese with friends. Usually my Vietnamese American friends would not feel comfortable or competent enough to do so as well.

I can see why my Vietnamese American friends still today have a similar mindset. "What are these Vietnamese people who similar to my parents, uncles, and aunts doing what I like to do..? They should stick to their Paris by Night and karaoke discs. All those things are not me because they are not me. I am modern, they are traditional. I am Vietnamese American.. not a F.O.B. (fresh off the boat)." I cannot put in words how much my mindset coinciding with my friends' mindsets have changed drastically-- my perception about Vietnam, about my family, about having an accent, about "coolness," about time, and most importantly, about myself in retrospect.

In Vietnam, I was able to transcend my traditional linguistic spaces. Spaces in which I spoke Vietnamese was not limited to only Sunday school or home anymore, it was everywhere. In Vietnam, I finally was able to think in Vietnamese. I was able to meet and relate to young people like me. I was able to grow a deeper love for Vietnamese food. When I go home I will appreciate more of my mother's cooking now that I am used to it. I wish I could let her know that I am sorry for preferring fast food over her cooking. Vietnamese food got way more soul than a $1 McChicken forreal.

Studying Vietnamese music history also helped me appreciate Vietnamese music a lot more. Now I know why karaoke and selected songs are deeply significant for the older generation of Vietnamese. In Vietnam, most importantly I've learned to be less selfish, to be more mindful of my family and friends. Not everything is about politics; it shouldn't be. I learned to think and act a little bit more with my heart. Of course, I still have a lot to learn about the traditions and norms here.

Lastly, even when I am finally back in the US to my regular, ordinary life, across the Pacific Ocean from where I am writing this, I believe the connection will forever be there. Each and everyone person that I've met in Vietnam has impacted my views not just in school terms, but in real-life terms. My understanding of "home" has transformed. I used to think a lot about my position here in Vietnam as an overseas Vietnamese "coming back." In the beginning, I felt like I did not belong here. You could say I had a "guilt," but I think I've gotten past it. As I learned in and out of the classroom, things are changing, and they are changing quickly.

Until next time. Son will be back soon.

Teamwork: Cross-Cultural Cooperation

I remember the very first day I arrived to Vietnam all the way back in August. I was not simply culturally shocked, I was culturally stunned. Stunned by the way traffic worked (indeed it works); by familiar, yet foreign landscapes--couldn't and still cannot get over the images of war replaying in my mind; by the sanitation, especially in regards to food--bun cha was my first meal, and I still remember how cautious I was; by the way people pronounced things--I still cannot understand what Northerners are saying sometimes because I did not know many northern Vietnamese growing up. Considering that I grew up seeing northern Vietnamese as the "other" in the context the yellow flag with the three red stripes that is the Diasporic Vietnamese nation still today tugging on the strings of the regional and cold war ideological divide.

You can simply taste this regionalism in San Jose's favorite Vietnamese restaurants, especially the sweetness of the broth in the bowls of pho. You can taste it in anti-communist protests against their own politicians like Madison Nguyen, and musicians who are Vietnamese nationals. That's southern I tell you. I'm southern I tell you though we're no longer are in the south, but we're in the west, and we're rebuilding what once was in the south.

Lastly, I was also stunned by the fact that I was one of "those" overseas Vietnamese whose que huong comes from the south, whose family were once exiles (and to a respect, still are), and who was born and raised in the most imperialist country in the world today. I remember on those very first couple of days, I was incredibly paranoid of people in uniforms working who I thought might be working for the government. I was afraid that they would somehow know that I was a viet kieu with my broken Vietnamese, stumbling over tones and pronunciations. Maybe because I had too much of a dosage of Vietnamese American literature.. written many years ago. Little did I know, things had changed over the years: attitudes and policies have changed radically. Viet kieu are suppoedly no longer labeled as reactionary or enemies of the state, but rather contributors to progress. Today, I still think about my position here.

To finally get to the point of this week's blog, teamwork and cross-cultural cooperation starts with understanding. Prior I explained a little bit about my process of trying to understand not only Hanoi, Vietnam and its people, but also myself and how I fit in this picture. I was always conscious of what I was doing and its repercussions on local people here. These past months, for our UCHANU class, I have been working on Project Kiem An with two locals, and two other UC students. Although everyone knew how to speak English: the common language among us aside from Vietnamese, it was difficult in the beginning to establish a foundation. At Berkeley, in the organizing spaces I am familiar with intersecting a kind of "progressive" political philosophy with the practice of organizing and simply "getting shit done"--everyone should be equal no matter their position; decision processes should be democratic with power (voice) distributed equally. Fluidity within structure was preferred.

We had little structure in the beginning. Schedules of teammates started to shift tremendously including mine. At times, I felt uncomfortable "stepping" up because Hanoi, Vietnam was simply not my territory. I expected too much from our local teammates to lead the way since from the beginning they helped the UC students off their feet. To put it more informally, they "held" our hands until we could walk on our own.. literally. I am sure my other two UC teammates would agree that there was much uncertainty in not only how the project should be carried out with respects to how things are done here (culture and social norms), but also work distribution amongst the team members: everyone is at different levels in terms of language competency and fluency.

I personally felt the project, though it helped us be much more engaged critically of the realities of working people and the built environment--encouraged a kind of factory-style structure. Taking this in consideration, the group's objective of seeking to understand each other and this world shifted radically to essentially meeting interview deadlines: transcribing, translating, Gig'izing.. wash, rinse, and repeat. Just like that. I felt from that escalating point where deadlines became a priority, our connection with each other started to fade a bit. It was all about work, and that was it.

If I could change one thing of how things chronologically fell in place, I would try to change my personal attitude and incompetence with a new environment like this. This is my first time out of the country. Like I depicted, I was afraid and confused. I was caught between the foreign and the familiar. I would have "stepped up" a little bit more, and get out of my comfort zone, to propose more social outings with the group. Perhaps allocated time more effectively, and calendar dates and our individual deadlines collectively. What the group and I can do right now is on one of these days sit down, maybe sip on some tea, eat some khoai tay chien, and discuss/reflect/analyze on our interviews and how they relate to not simply to the development of Vietnam, but to the development of ourselves. Simply, let's share personal experiences.

Only Time Will Tale

I could only listen to one song for these past days--a very cheesy one in fact, but it's relevant to my realization of how little time I have here. I know I am echoing so many other UC's students' blogs right now, but I absolutely feel for them. Earlier today, I dwelled upon this fact and I felt a sharp pain in my chest--I usually get this feeling when I am devastated about something. And this is it.

Một vòng trái đất, em ngồi đây.

Anh ngồi đây.

Bên cạnh nhau ngỡ như thật xa.

Không dám nhìn, không nói gì.

Dường như chúng ta chưa từng quen

I know, extremely cheesy. But speaking from the song, it relates to how I feel and constant worry about the future, apart. Like others have mentioned, I am scared of not going back to the states. I am scared of going through that transition period of "re-acculturation." I am scared of returning to the Vietnamese enclaves in San Jose and having the same feeling I had earlier today--that pain in my chest, in my heart.

These memories here will replay in my mind there. Almost as if those memories were dreams. My friends and family will ask me: How was Vietnam? I will tell them the side of the story I know and experienced: these very memories, revelations, and realizations. I will show them pictures, videos, and these online memoirs. They will know, but only I will truly understand.

Like the song, I will go back to my world and you will continue to live in yours. We both have different lives on this round earth. Although we may speak different languages, we still understand each other with our hearts. The universal language of love and friendship; sacrifice and struggle. Goodbye, this is not. See you again, it will be. For sure, one day we will be united again.

In these last 3 weeks here, I know there are many things that I would like to do. It will seem like a rush, but I will try hard to make it not be that way. I've stopped working so I'll spend more time with UCHANU. I'm having so much fun tabling these past days to fund-raise for Nghe An. Check it out:

http://www.facebook.com/pages/One-Heartland-Vietnam/151894661508821

I'm finally feeling a little bit more accomplished in this side of my life here, but on the other side, I still also need to set time to visit my co-workers at the store and the office more. Perhaps next week after we get back from Nghe An during this weekend. I'm also excited for that.

This song will continue playing for the next I don't know how much longer. Speaking of Vietnamese music, I'm also looking forward to complete my research on Vietnamese pop culture for Gerard's class. I am glad I chose this topic because it's making me listen to Vietnamese music, whether old or new (more so, old). I'm growing an extreme appreciation for old Vietnamese music, especially "yellow music" or "nhạc vàng"; the kind of music my parents listen to. Maybe when I get back I'll get into making hip hop beats and old Vietnamese music will be on the first of my list to sample from. What a way to pay homage to the past.

For now, only time will tell this tale of Son Chau's remaining experience in Hanoi, Vietnam. And so, let time speak so that I can speak with it.

Going Back to Where It Began

This past week, we went down to the southern region of Vietnam, miền Nam, including my family's hometown, quê hương. I find it interesting that in the Vietnamese language, "home" is synonymous with vocabulary around the "countryside" or "village." I believe I mentioned this before, but through analyzing this particular diction, you could see how explicit it is. In these words and many people's realities, home often times is not the city. It resides in the rural. "Traditional" Vietnamese culture is rooted in this setting though change, phát triển, is residing in the very anti-thesis of "home"; and that is, the city, thánh phố; in the massive skyscrapers towering over paved concrete, financial districts facilitating the spread of global capitalism and corporatism, interconnection through machines whether mobile or stationary--all of which break what once were boundaries or limitations of time and space. Expansion to the city from the country. Your very city life source: extraction from the country. Elements of the country appropriated and reappropriated for sale. It's all about money, ain't a damn thing funny. And that is real.

Throughout my experience in the various cities we visited in the South, especially Saigon. I kept on pondering about the sameness of "the city"--whatever and wherever it may be: from San Francisco to Saigon. Youth may be consuming the same thing whether it is Japanese anime, Justin Bieber's music, Hip Hop, Korean dramas and pop music, and so on. Although skeptics like me would critique this aspect of the condition of the modern world, you could also many aspects of the countryside, and its culture from which many aspects of the city extracts are also, in many ways, the same as well. It is just that there are some particularities of each region that are shaped by differing geographies and circumstances. Ah, survival.

Aside from visiting cities, I also had the opportunity to stay in the countryside. Although life was more uncomfortable there for me: the most mosquito bites I've ever had in the span of 2 nights, shivering at night time, sleeping on hard floors, dusty and muddy floors (and feeling it on your feet all the time), lack of electronics and technology, etc., I am very grateful to have had an experience like this. It was a great time to reflect about life, to be put it generally. I thought so much about the very way I live life outside (and in many ways, opposite) to the countryside: from the food I eat (especially its socialized meaning, and the way one obtains it) to how my thinking, interests, hobbies, and passions are products of growing up in such a setting. I suppose this experience helped me realize a part of humanity that is often neglected today as so many people are so heavily worried about ipods, phones, and clothes. Ah, standardized excess.

Going back.. I did, going back to the root of it: the countryside (quê) and also my parents' hometown (quê hương). Rather than call this past week "beautiful," I'd call it "rootiful." I was able to meet families from both on my mother's side and my father's side. Growing up, I was quite jealous of my other friends for having such large festive families. I always thought my family was small, but now I know I truly don't have a small family; they're not in one place, but in many places. Perhaps this trip made me truly realize what Diaspora, any Diaspora, really means. I'm finally accepting this truth of dispersion, of "dislocation" as something quite normal nowadays. Simply, the world is shrinking; it may not be a bad thing.

While there are a ton of people in my family on my mother's side, there aren't as many people on my father's side. I was able to meet my cousin (my dad's brother's son)--never thought I had a cousin on my father's side, but I met him. My dad doesn't talk much about his brother who passed away way before I was born. I remember the night I met my cousin. I had to hold in my tears with so many thoughts rushing in my mind. All thoughts of family. Thoughts of thoughts i had as a kid always being so critical of my family. Why weren't they like other families? And why was not all my family in one place? I believe this experience has made me grow up a little bit more. Don't know how else I would put it. My thoughts on family are rapidly changing so much while I am here. Though I've gone through many ups and downs, a lot of downs, I am very happy that I am doing this program here in Vietnam.

Beauty and the Machine

Often times, I try to think how people have come to aesthetically value machines. Aime like Gundam Wing, Volton, and Power Rangers, which took up a large chunk of my childhood's imagination and material desires, point to this interesting fact of human life today. We love machines, but do our machines love us back? If only they could think for themselves like how we do. We are rational. They are only rational in functionality because we made them so, particularly for our own rational interests. Efficiency. Lowered opportunity costs. More freedom through time and money. If we have machines do everything for us, we won't have to do it ourselves. This is the rationale behind technology. When we've reached to a point of maximum efficiency and human freedom, then what is left?

This past weekend, we were able to visit two factories: Hanoisimex and Yamaha. Before arriving there, I was thinking about the last time I was at a factory and I remembered a few years ago having the opportunity to visit the Jelly Belly Factory, which is perhaps a more visitor-kid-friendly attraction compared t these two. And they were; though I can say they depict a clearer sense of reality of labor. Growing up, my imagination around factories was heavily influenced by the Willy Wonka and Santa Claus Christmas parable. These [diminutive] workers, though they do such repetitious labor with machines, they are extremely happy and giddy. Are these oopma loompas and elves actually getting paid? Why the hell are they portrayed as a different species as though this type of labor is not for humans? This type of characterization is the polarized extreme opposite of what is truly reality. My tour of the factory was quite eye-opening and humbling.

I have to say I find beauty in machines, a disastrous kind of beauty.

Couldn't believe the Express shirts I saw were being produced at the same factory with other brands. Doesn't it make you wonder about the legitimacy and realness of brands themselves? Everything nowadays come out of factories, and sometimes out of the same factory.

Home This Weekend

While everyone was away at Sapa hiking and hurdling through the mountains, I decided to stay home to rest. As much as I am adventurous, I am also a city boy whose comfort zone is exactlythe city zone. I just did not feel like embracing nature to such an extent this time especially when I am constantly reminded of that experience cutting rice and getting totally wasted inside and out. Blah. While I had planned to stay in on the weekend, I followed through with the plan not because simply on that whim, but by circumstance. I was sick the whole weekend because of the same paralleling reason I was sick from the country-side: alcohol. Blah. For one of the nights, my insomnia also came back. I laid there staring into the darkness. Waiting. Waiting to hopefully fall asleep. Blah.

Although the weekend was somewhat painful inside and out. I was able to catch up with a few friends from home online. Thank goodness I did not have work as well though I did miss my co-workers, especially the one who is sick at home having to miss work for one whole week. I hope she gets better soon. It's not the same without you :( :( :(!

I try to avoid thinking about time so much. The calendar makes me sad. I have a tendency to count down the weeks if not days of how much longer I will be here. It's not much. Less than 2 months left. I decided that I will be going back home right after school is over here. Home as in my family in San Jose. The reason why I came here in the first place was because of family. To get away from family to understand family: whatever notions arise from family; what ever definitions, associations surround family. Studying abroad here I believe was a selfish act for me to "soul search"--to learn more, to tìm hiểu (literally, to search and understand). As much as it was a collective journey, it was also an individual journey. After I am done here in Hanoi, this journey abroad may be over, but this journey to "tìm hiểu" will be a life-long process.

I hope to be back in San Jose before Christmas which is also my birthday to celebrate it with my family. I will be turning 22. From what I hear from my Hanoi friends, people around my age often get married. With plans of more schooling down my road, that definitely is not the case for me.. I hope. Sometimes, life is unpredictable as much as we try to plan so much. We'll see what happens from here.

Stressed about:

-You know who

-Women's Day

-Globalization Final (50% of my grade!)

-History Research Paper

-Project Kiem An

-selling my electric bike!

-tương lai (my future) -- GRE, grad school, job searching, oh gawd

If stress is the antithesis of vacation, I guess I am living up to my expectation. Vietnam is not a vacation. Vietnam is not a vacation. Vietnam is not a vacation.

Once in a Thousand Years

Once in a thousand years will you be able to witness this celebration of a millennium (though its temporal accuracy could be contested). Once in a lifetime will you be able to study abroad in Vietnam as an undergraduate. This weekend was filled with "once in a lifetimes," and I wonder how these memories of me here will translate in my next few years. All the friends and even family I am making or (re)searching here; all the habits I am developing here and pet-peeves; all elements of my life situated in people's (ordinary) lives here.. I wonder how it will exist in my mind when I get back to the US.

I can't help but to think abstractly after this weekend because this weekend was abstract just like the traffic, the various accidents which included the explosion resulting in 4-12 deaths and numerous accidents on the road, the storm killing many people in the central region, and the meaning of all this craziness. It was a big party, but as a result of any large celebration of indulgence in pleasure and escape, there is definitively no escape from the trash and baggage that will left behind. Just like any large rave, there will always be that rubbish riding behind.

I can't believe I have only 2 months left here. The trip to the south is also in 2 weeks, and after that there will be only 1 month of school and the program left. Back to suburban sur-reality.

As much as I don't want think about the reality of this dream in Vietnam, I do. I do. I do. I can already imagine myself crying the days before departure. I will hold onto those marks I left here in Vietnam, and then I would have to let go. Never will I forget. Perhaps I will return next time, or even more. Perhaps. Let's hope we reunite once again. Past the Cold War politics. Past war.