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.

Rice Cutting - cắt lúa

This past weekend, we had the opportunity to go to the countryside though very close to the city-side to get a taste of how city people, or the larger society are able to get a taste of rice everyday. To put simply, we harvested rice that weekend. Gerard's little lesson-plan inserted into EAP's curriculum reminded me of the effects, especially on the policies after communist revolutions throughout history in which the bourgeois were forced to go to the rural areas and contribute to the collectivization of agriculture process. I felt we as (sub)urban dwelling students fell exactly under Gerard's lesson of getting us to appreciate the fact that we have food period. It's definitely a lot of hard work to get a bowl rice. That was what was running through my mind that day, standing in the spider-and-crab-infested mud.

While I was in that field, bare-footed and to a certain degree, bare-minded, I tried imagining a life doing work like this everyday. I tried thinking about the slaves in the so-called "New World." I tried thinking about how food today is incredibly engineered chemically to maximize profits for companies, and what kind of methods other farms and farmers use to process food. I tried thinking about where my family came from generations ago. Perhaps my family members from generations ago were not always city-dwellers. They came from a landscape and a life like this. I wondered to myself how and why has a life and scenery like this been left in the dust of modernization and development? Without this, these people, this type of work, and the struggle, or cực khổ, we would be nothing; we would have nothing. No food, no family. Nothing.

Although I was somewhat conscious of this, I could not help but to think about the latest frontiers like.. what new mail do I have today in my e-mail? or. what kind of notifications do i have today for facebook? It's amazing how much the internet today has affected people's psyches, including mine. Truly, this was the most ironic part. I can be considerably mindful, but at the same time, hypocritical. A city-mind, university-educated, yet not universally-educated.. It's easy to think one way, but it's hard to do another. There was much to think about in terms of this experience, but I think I will leave it at there.

Châu [Trung] Sơn - Central (Miền Trung) Trip Reflection

The trip to the central opened up a whole new window Vietnam for me as well as another mirror to understanding closer, yet further the genealogy that is associated with how I ethnically, culturally, and nationally identify myself. While I was overhearing conversations with other EAP’ers whose families hometown is in the south, I related to a lot of their sentiments on how much more they can connect to this region—the people, the food, the way the Vietnamese language is spoken, the mannerisms, etiquette, and so on—unlike their experiences in Hanoi. I found myself aligning with what was discussed.

There, I felt more comfortable and confident speaking Vietnamese. I noticed how much I started to sound like my mother and father when speaking to the locals. I could finally feel that natural vibration in my throat as I pronounce words without being so conscious of imitating the northern accent. It was then that I decided to not forge the northern accent in my articulation. Instead of displacing my family’s tongue, I should try to continually improve it no matter what northerners may think. My family is from the south; Long Xuyen; in a small town called Thot Not. I should speak how people in Thot Not speak.

But ironically, as I started to become more regionally and identity conscious, I started to further question of what constitutes me and to what extent do I romanticize whatever is “ethnic” about me from the beginning? While I am indeed learning if not relearning who I am, or who and what my family is, I am somehow caught in between the rifts of time and space. I suppose after being exposed and interacting with local youth in Hanoi and experiencing the central trip as a tourist opened my eyes to a reality of change. For example, when I hear the word “Vietnamese culture," instantly an image of my family is evoked in mind. I am starting to understanding that Vietnamese people in Vietnam indeed is not my family per say in part because of how generations progress and change. Culture is fluid. Identity is fluid. Just as my family and I are fluid. However, I do have a tendency to preserve what I think my family is in a glass case in my cognitive museum like how I preserve my belongings in my own room.

While I acknowledge my position as an essentially a tourist with a Vietnamese or Asian guise, I constantly reminded myself that Vietnam is not my playground; that I am here to learn first and foremost. Whatever is entailed in the learning is ultimately up to how I choose use my time here.

Viet Kieu. Tourist. Foreigner. I am an American, but my roots are in Vietnam though my umbilical cord is not. Home seems far away, yet I am here. I am here. Then I am there. A few more months left. How will I feel?

Pointing Out Poverty

While I was trying to search for food places at 1 AM on a Saturday night, I was invited by the gatekeepers of D11 to eat a midnight meal: instant noodles. While I had these questions in mind, they were ones to first bring up the issue of poverty and what is entailed when a person is poor in the city versus rural. As we were talking about transportation in a thành phố, one person brought up how it's incredibly expensive to buy a car in Vietnam in comparison to the US. Say a car costs $20,000 in the US, the same car would be $40,000 or more in Vietnam. Same goes with Iphones; it may cost $500 in the US, but in Vietnam it would be $1,000 or more. Then they talked about class and social inequities in Vietnam.

"In Vietnam, you either have very rich people or very poor people, there is no middle"

When this was said, the word "development," and words relating to it: globalization, neoliberalism, capitalism, free trade, free market, and so on kept on resounding in my mind. Is this a side effect to what we call progress or đổi mới?

Moreover, many of the gatekeepers told me their home is in more of the country side or less populous city areas.. thành thị. It makes me think again how the flows of capital to the city parallels the migration to the city for jobs as large corporate enterprises take over farmers' lands. Truly, cities all have a kind of parable that comes with it in order for it to legitimate itself. This legitimacy can come through a kind of romanticization as so many movies take place in the city. We did not talk about poverty so much in different areas, but we did touch upon the polarization between rural and urban. One gatekeeper mentioned how poor people in the rural areas are much poorer than the poor in the city though many poor in the city are those who came from the rural areas from the start.

After the weekend, in the beginning of the week, I started working at Bò Sữa or Boo Skateboards in Old Quarter -- www.bosua.vn. The customers we get range from foreign tourists to incredibly rich, and điệu rich people. You can tell they are incredibly rich because most, if not all of them drive Vespas and have tons of make-up on and perfume if they are girls. We rarely get "ordinary"--người bình thường-- people though we get local Vietnamese youth at times. I just thought my experience thus far working here is relevant to the discussion of poverty and wealth. It is also amazing to see this company or công ty be operated by people all under 30, especially when the owner is a little older than 30. Makes me wonder about the future of Vietnam as these Vietnamese entrepreneurs are so avant-garde or "progressive" in that regard. Of course, it all takes place in the city.

"Everything is fair when you're living in the city" - Funkadelic

Week 3 - Working to Live, Living to Work

This week team cucumber was able to interview a manager for a refrigerator company. This interview was also our first interview so most if not all of us were trying to get used to carrying out specialized roles during the interview. We were able to interview our interviewee at S-Club over dinner though only a few of us were eating. The manager is young and only 2 years out of college. In many degrees, this interview helped me think more about my own future after undergrad which is only a mere few months away.

Before we conducted the interview with him, team cucumber had a meeting to discuss the rationale for this project to get all the members on a common ground and direction. We read in our notes that the purpose of this project is to inquire on the multi-dimensionality of life in Ha Noi as work is a significant part of human life here. When I read the Gerard's proposed purpose I thought to myself how work is essentially not only a very large part of human life in Hanoi specifically, but human life in general as much as Western thought seeks to separate spheres of life in motion into categories (ie: work life, public life, private life, etc.)

From what I've observed from the village-like settlements in Ha Noi, home, work, family, friends, and customers are often not separated from one other spatially and socially. This contention of what constitutes human life, especially "modern human life" always brings me back to the question of whether life "here" which is perhaps "less modern" better (or will bring you more happiness) "there" in the US. The US may have "efficiency" and more advanced technology, but how happy are people in the US compared to people in Vietnam? Is what you call "development" actually "development"; if so, for who? and what is the meaning behind moving forward? Who or what dictates spatial and temporal direction in the first place besides rationality that is induced by science or the constant human struggle to discover truth, to always outdo what the human mind and body is bounded by-- and that is itself.

To my surprise, our interviewee loved his job because he expressed that his forte is management considering that he studied Tourism and Management," a major of which is popular among many HANU students. Although it may be stressful at times, he emphasized his philosophy on "human improvement" which perhaps implies a progressive-oriented way of thinking. He is always trying to improve himself and help improve others around him; those others are people who he manages. He states that his work is contingent upon the clock. He works 12 hour days and he understands that within the 24 hours of the day he does not necessarily get much "time to himself" besides sleep. For lunches, he is restricted to a time slot and time limit.

This corporate-factory ethos reminds me of when I worked at McDonald's and Macy*s. You time in, and when you're done working, you time out on a machine. My pay was precisely calculated on this machine. Say if I were to time out 20 min early, I would get deducted the pay for 20 minutes. Humans and machines work along and with each other.

After the interview was over, I was enlightened and intrigued by the interviewee's knowledge and passion for his work in a corporate sphere. I knew that as we gradually progress in our project and conduct more interviews, my perception and understanding of Ha No will continue to open up.

Dich Vong: From Shacks to Skyscrapers

Before I arrived to this space, I had expectations of Dich Vong to be the polar opposite to what I had observed in the previous space. I was looking forward to seeing a piece of home; a formulated piece of private utopian planning put into action; a bridging of the "foreign" and "familiar" landscapes. However, when I finally arrived to this space some of my expectations were met, but not completely. Dich Vong is not a suburban center, but rather a urban one in which tall buildings intimidated and invaded your sense of not only time and space, but size.

I felt small and perhaps insignificant standing against, or rather under these tall complexes. These gray towers frowned and I frowned with them. The streets were wide and empty. Traffic seemed rare at this time of day--around 2 pm siesta time. There were actual private parking spots, mainly for cars. In fact, this was perhaps the first i had ever seen large parking lots in Ha Noi. One of our group members, either Micky or Lena, explained how she felt somewhat dislocated along with those who were "relocated" from their rural homes for "development purposes" to these large frowning skyscrapers; projects; apartment complexes; duplexes; whatever you want to call them.

Finally, unlike the prior space's streets which mirror a lot of the surrounding areas of HANU, I was able to comfortably and safely cross the street without worrying about getting hit because there was literally no one there to do so. Mmmm.. with all this space i felt free, but in many ways, I felt also confined.

Finally, I felt as though my individual rights were somewhat restored, yet it was quite lonely, desolate, and isolated here as it seems to be reminiscent of urban sprawl and decay of New York City and various urban centers that modeled their planning after it. In light of discourses around globalization, development, progress, and Westernization, I could not stop thinking about Hip Hop as it birthed in a similar, if not the same, landscape, built environment.

To my surprise, to further provide evidence on many people's claims on the "globally expanding" and "homogenizing" effects of urban spaces on culture and way of life, there was a large amount of graffiti which again reminds you of any city in America. Indeed what is a city without graffiti nowadays--individual expression/reflection/criticism on the very structures that simultaneous define and confine the lives of people living there. I wonder what are compelling factors led those who wrote on the walls to express through this particular kind of medium which still remains a controversial one?

The last thing I would like to cover is the recurring dichotomously-oriented themes of "inside-out" and "private" vs. "public." During class I remembered Micky formulating a spatial theory as it relates to "modernity, rationalism, efficiency," and notions of "development" and urban or city planning. As spaces become more commercialized or privatized, the streets seem to get wider, sidewalks serve to protect the rights of pedestrians, and the "body of community spirit and human exchange" of literally street life gets evacuated to the inside; thus, inside/out and public/private precipitates or consolidates into this polarized binary-- the kind of rational thought we've come to love and understand as a kind model for truth in the "modern world."

Like I mentioned in the beginning I can connect to a space like this and its alienating impacts on the individual, but at the same time prioritize and protect the individual. In San Jose, I live in suburbia in which such this kind of "narcissism" exists. It is the space against and around which a lot of contemporary punk rockers, emo kids, and politicized hipsters speak out--these very themes of isolation, loneliness, depression, etc that permeate many body of narratives and critiques of this particular setting. Would I live here? My answer would perhaps not be simply as "yes" or "no." I am split on this question. I'd live there in part because that's what I know and am familiar with. I would not live there in part because of its potential negative psychological effects. In spite of all the "symptoms" and "side effects" of modern living, like I mentioned before culture emerges out of struggle whether it is rock or hip hop, graffiti art, or poetry. These kinds of spaces have been regarded as hubs for hipness and coolness. I would probably want to do more research on this later. For now, it's really all up in the air just like these phallic towers.

Spatial Mapping: Luong Dinh Cua and Hoang Tich Tri

Shout outs to Team Cucumber!**

While trying to map this particular space in Ha Noi like a cartographer, I could not help but to reflect on the space from which I myself come: suburban central San Jose and urban Berkeley campus area. I began somewhat comparing and contrasting what life could be like living here in Ha Noi as opposed to there, back home in San Jose or Berkeley. This project helped me think more about the significance of different human living spaces throughout history. For instance, the images of migration from rural to urban then to suburban kept resonating in my mind-- and I wonder.. is that what you call human geographical progress? How does one determine the "direction" of particular spaces though each space indeed has their particular function or purpose (ie: rural as a space of agriculture, urban as a space of commerce, and suburban as a space of consumption). As a result, I became very critical on my background of an American growing up in San Jose suburbia with wide, empty streets; cars more visible than actual human bodies; mass-produced homes echoing sameness and the mundane. *silence* Of course where I come from is who I am. Who are these people here on this street.. and how/where do they live?

The street my group mapped can be categorized in between a village and urban landscape. If you were to theoretically situate this space in time, you could perhaps interpret it as "backwards" compared to American metropolitan urban or suburban landscapes. While many would come to such a conclusion based on European/Western rationalization of history and capitalist material developments, I on the contrary try to remind myself that this space like any other space is where human beings live and interact with one another. I coming from suburban San Jose can say that people here talk and interact with each other more as almost everything you need (goods and services) are in walkable distance. I can imagine how people here who do business and are residents here (many people in fact live where they work) know and cooperate with each other. Back at home, I don't even know my own neighbors in my neighborhood. Instead of seeing faces of people, I see the head and tail lights of cars. There is definitely a kind of alienation in contrast to here where it is much more intimate. Literally, you see people cook right in front of your face. Not only do customers crowd the stores, but the families: sons, daughters, moms, dads, grandmothers, grandfathers, and so on do as well. The business often times is the extension of the home.

I would not mind living here because it is indeed much more of a "community" in comparison to where I come. It may not have sidewalks or such excessively wide streets, or be considered "modern" from the temporal and spatial standards of many. It indeed has humanity; that is, the presence of actual human contact and family ethos from my perspective. I may have a romanticized view on this space, but I still stand strongly in opposition to those who denigrate or are condescending towards people who maynot live like how "we" Americans live. Check your own, especially where you're from. Foo!

Giggin' It Up

I found the personal account of a McDonald’s crew member particularly interesting in part because I was a McDonald’s crew member when I was 16 years old. My experiences working there perhaps is no different than Kysha’s with the exception of flirting with boys in the drive-thru. Unfortunately, many of my friends at the time had not gotten their license yet to shape my experience in that way. I also was absolutely horrible at drive-thru. The work ethic at McDonald’s Kysha describes is extremely accurate what the managers and owners expected of their crew members. For example, when there were no customers around you were not allowed to sit around or “rest.” You were forced to clean/sanitize any messy areas on the counter, lobby, the outside, or even the bathroom. Stocking was also an option if there was down time. Even though if everything was stocked up and clean, you would have to make it seem as if you were busy. I often found myself pretending to be working while there were no customers. Indeed there was absolutely no “free time.” Your time is the owner’s time. Your time does not belong to you. It belongs to McDonald’s. Time is money.

Relating Kysha’s experience of the “business” or “pseudo-business” of this particular work, I find stark contrast to this labor sphere to the street market vendors I observe in Ha Noi. For example, many people who sell and provide services on the streets around HANU perhaps own their time. Unlike McDonald’s enforcement of busy-ness when there is downtown from customer service, the street market vendors and servicers simply just chill or have conversation with their family, friends, or neighboring businesses. Even in the restaurants when a worker is not the owner, they still have some sort of control over their time, especially the idle times during their shift. This article helped me reflect on the ways in which societies and peoples interpret the notions of capital, time, work, leisure, and ownership. Having in the insider perspective of being an actual crew member of McDonald’s definitely helped my own understanding of the work spaces and its relative philosophies. I would like to know more about the work spaces in Ha Noi and how they operate it. What are exactly the similarities aside from the differences?

Son's Autobiography

Born on December 25, 1988 in San Jose CA. Originally his parents expected him to come out as a girl, Son came out as a boy. Surprise! Another chapter in hand-me-downs. Blue over pink. A few dollars less every month though it was perhaps another disappointment given the Chau family already had three sons. Budget baby. Instead of spending Christmas in the living room, the Chau's spent their holiday they had been trying to adopt in their calendar in the hospital. Another time to adjust time. Domestic time over “foreign” time. Age distortion. Christian time over Lunar time. Many things to get used to including this new member of the family. The name Son was given to the new baby by the monk the family journeyed with on boats. That name would indeed play a large role in his understanding of self.

I used to think that Son meant simply “paint” so I was quite enthusiastic when it came to painting or drawing. In kindergarten, I vividly remember the numerous times other kids would point out the pun in my name. Son is associated with family, like son and daughter under mother and father. Or even, sun like the big bright yellow ball in the sky. Internalizing such external interpretations of my name, I affirmed my identity by focusing most of my efforts on drawing the sun in those exercises to introduce children to the natural world in order to provoke imagination. White paper. Brown tree (don’t forget the roots). Green Leaves. Green Grass. Blue Sky. Puffy Clouds. Of course, a big yellow sun with radiant orange rays ironically wearing sun glasses. Its own rays were just too bright for itself.

I might have mimicked the popular Coca Cola commercial during that time as well. The sun cannot get hydrated on simply water. It can only get hydrated on Cola, that dark water with syrup and sugar. I would say hello to these images upon every happy meal my mother would reward me with for being a good son… “ngoan.” I loved those cheeseburger happy meals, though those toys did not last long in my imaginative play cycles.

Throughout k-12 education, identity permeated a lot of my thoughts, questions, and curiosities. On first day of school at Schallenberger Elementary School in San Jose, CA, on the outskirts of the Willow Glen community, I remember it was a hard transition from hanging out with my mother all the time, watching television: Power Ranges, Arthur, Scooby Doo, and Popeye. I remember how I felt coming into the classroom with other kids; many who did not look like me, and a few who did. I was reminded that perhaps I was different and many kids reminded me that I was throughout these 12 years.

After kindergarten, from first grade until my last year of high school, I got into many fights with primarily Latino and white students who reminded me of my “alienness.” Puns for my name expanded to racial slurs and cultural denigration by other students. It was not just son and daughter, or sun in the sky anymore. Rather, it was about pointing out the foreignness of my name, questions of why parents did not give me an American name, and how others were uncomfortable of calling me by my name. Perhaps that is why my last name “Chau” has to be included with “Son” for people feel comfortable when calling or referring me. Two syllables. A rhythmic combination. Son Chau! Son Chau! However, even by including my last name, others were tempted to make fun of it because it again was another foreign name. Un-American. Un-American. I became very violent to others and myself when it came to identity or culture. Middle-school was an incredibly hard time for me, especially when other students were still discerning where they belonged. Unlike many who did find their place, I still felt displaced in what I felt was the wrong part of town throughout high school.

By the time I got to high school, I continued to get into fights with other kids during lunch, after school, and sometimes in P.E. in the locker room. I grew very impatient and frustrated with myself and my parents at times. Conflict was apparent in both spheres of school and home. I knew about the other side of town, East Side San Jose in contrast to my side, Central San Jose where Asians, primarily Vietnamese people were the majority. Although this area seemed appealing to me at the time, I soon realized the inequality neighborhoods by reflecting on the similarities and differences of the two sides of town. East Side San Jose was considered the area to which no one wanted to go because of its issues of poverty, violence, and instability.

I am very passionate and enthusiastic about topics of history, philosophy, culture, humanity, and the like. I am a very reflective person who seeks to find meaning in everything in life whether it be material or cognitive. If I had not gone through experiences of racism and alienation in school I perhaps would not be as conscious and critical as I am today. Towards the middle to the end of high school I became heavily involved with community service. Key Club became a means through which I was able to meet new people throughout CA. I researched and read on Civil Rights and Black Power in my leisure time because I felt my struggle against racism was somehow tied to Black struggle for equality and liberation.

In my head phones, I would listen to Hip Hop from the late 80’s and early 90’s my brother would lend me to complement this self- political education with hip hop education via music. I continued to practice dancing, particularly poppin’ as it was something to do during lunch. This was a way to break racial and ethnic boundaries between Asian and Latino students at my school Willow Glen High School. In middle school Willow Glen Middle School, I was an avid and ambitious learner of glowsticking, a dance which involved creating complex patterns with light sticks to electronica.

Now in my fourth year at Berkeley, I constantly look backwards while moving forward. I believe a lot of the things that happened to me and things I helped happen are not coincidental. Instead, it is somehow a linear progression, or at least how I would like to understand it. I grateful for what I have, where I am, especially having the privilege and opportunity to be in Viet Nam participating in EAP Viet Nam, and where I am headed; I hope to go to graduate school and make social change in the classroom in the future though my options are flexible. I am driven heavily by my passions which emerged out of my struggle for identity and belonging and my family’s struggles as refugees: starting from scratch, making something out of literally nothing (at least, physically and financially with exception of governmental assistance).

This coming semester I hope to better understand how the local mirrors the global in terms of political, social, and cultural issues. I hope to learn more about where my family came from and how my own identity or how I choose to identify myself is relevant. I want to challenge my own beliefs whether it is political or philosophical regarding humanity, equality, and democracy. In the states I am all about “the people” and “equality/love for all,” but what does it all mean in a country like Viet Nam with a whole different context of political struggles and strife? I am incredibly intrigued by left-wing and “humanist” ideals, but how does the whole political spectrum play out in so-called socialist states? I hope to challenge myself on various levels in hopes to become a more globally conscious human being.