Monday, November 30, 2009

The Space Time Continuum

Progress is a difficult word to get a handle on. What is it exactly? How do we measure it? What timeframes are appropriate for evaluating it? Is it linear? Is it always a positive thing? We’ve obviously made a lot of it in some fields - from mainframes to iPhones in computing, from the Model A to the Prius in automobiles; from segregated schools to the election of an African American President. Sometimes progress astonishes us. In just 53 years the US moved from a society that recognized separate-but-equal as a legal construct to a government led by someone who might have been barred from voting in some jurisdictions at the beginning of the period.

But social or political progress is a seesawing proposition. It is definitely not linear. Science is different. We can see it happen. Its progress is linear but not always positive. The atomic bomb and Agent Orange are products of science but so are the polio vaccine and heart transplants.

Nowhere in my lifetime is progress more personal and tangible than in aviation. The world recognizes the Wright brothers’ flight at Kitty Hawk on December 17, 1903 as the first of its kind. It was 120 feet from start to finish at an altitude of 10 feet. I was born exactly thirty-four years after that first flight, the same year that Amelia Earhart missed tiny Howland Island in the South Pacific and was lost at sea on her historic attempt to circumnavigate the globe. 22 years after Earhart disappeared I received a lapel pin from the Chance Vought Company for flying their Marine Corps fighter 1000 miles per hour just off the coast of California. 10 years after that Neil Armstrong walked on the moon. From Kitty Hawk to the moon in 66 years.

Last night I saw Amelia, the film biography of Amelia Earhart. She was a celebrity and a pioneer. People were awestruck by the woman and her accomplishments – the first woman to solo the Atlantic, first to fly from Hawaii to the US mainland, and the first to attempt an equatorial circumnavigation of the earth. Those pioneering days seem so distant – but her last flight occurred in my lifetime and now I commute between Seattle and Saigon in less than a day. Even Amelia would be surprised at that kind of progress.

Friday, November 20, 2009

Shock and More Shock

I'm in all kinds of shock since I got back to Seattle a week ago. Weather shock - 50F instead of 90F. Clutter shock - aware of all the stuff that fills our condo as opposed to the spareness of our apartment in Saigon. Food shock - the amount of fat on or in everything and the portion sizes offered. Shopping shock - noticing the number of shiny new shopping bags people are carrying out of downtown stores. If consumer confidence is down in the US I can't see it. Traffic shock - how aggressive and unforgiving drivers are and how fast they go compared to the slow zen-like movement on the streets of Saigon. And, culture shock - how few people make eye contact or say hello in contrast with the friendliness of the people on the streets of Saigon.

It's natural to look for differences. We're moving between a Third World country and the most developed country in the world. But although the contrast is stark it doesn't always favor the developed state. The day I arrived home is the day the crazy Army psychiatrist killed 13 of his fellow soldiers at Fort Hood, and yesterday's headlines in Seattle were about a rich eye surgeon who tried to have his partners murdered because he was unhappy with the million dollar split when they decided to change the business model.

Traffic is a nightmare in Saigon and the sidewalks are broken and filled with parked motorbikes that force you to walk in the street. But, I feel safe any time of day or night on the streets of Saigon. I can't say the same about Seattle.

Saturday, November 7, 2009

It's Not Your Mother's Supermarket

Ben Thanh Market, in the heart of the heart of downtown, is the best known of the public markets in Saigon. It is a must-have-total-immersion experience for everyone from the family shopper to the high end tour group. The market is enclosed in one gigantic structure and covers one square block. I’m not sure what the roof construction is, but the last time Marilynn and I were there it was raining so hard outside that there was a heavy mist inside.

The market catches your eye immediately as you approach. The outer stalls facing the street are the flower sellers – dozens of them. If you enter from the north you are immediately thrown back to the ageless, timeless, markets of the world and an dizzying array of sights, sounds, and smells. The ladies in their conical hats squat beside basins of live eels, octopus, crabs and flopping mackerel. Behind them are the fruit and vegetable vendors with their tables full of carefully arranged produce. Everyone walking through stops to take a picture of the art. The color, the geometry, the orderliness stop the eye and hold it.

The meat, sausage, and poultry are displayed more like they are in a European market – behind glass but in cases open to the air. It’s hard to recognize any of the cuts. They’re different than what we’re used to seeing. When you order chicken in a restaurant it often comes in chunks and looks like the butcher took a bandsaw to the whole bird and cut it into bite sized pieces.

Deeper in the market, food vendors, all with a few seats at narrow counters offer pho, noodles, rice, etc for the breakfast, lunch and dinner crowd. There is plenty to choose from but it isn’t easy to know what they are selling. It’s best to scout out the counters and see what the customers are eating and then point. Is it safe to eat? Probably, if it’s cooked, but the Vietnamese tummy is conditioned and able to cope with whatever travels along with the fruits and vegetables. Ours is not; so the basic rule is don’t eat unpeeled fruit or fresh salads. The exception to the rule is that the better restaurants and those that cater to the expat and tourist trade take extra care and wash their produce with a special product that ensures its safety.

After eating you can shop till you drop, because everything beyond the food vendors is for sale – fabric, watches, clothing, household goods, sweets, art. It’s all there, and, everything that’s for sale has to be bargained for. I’m not very good at it, but my rule of thumb if I want something is to ask the price and then counter-offer with half. If they snap it up I turn away and find another vendor and offer less. There are dozens of vendors with the same products. At least you’ve found a ballpark figure to work with.

Ben Thanh Market has some name brand knockoffs – handbags, watches, clothes, etc, but the better ones are down the street in a newer building called Saigon Square and the same goods that are for sale there are available across the street in a stall for half of that price and with less mystery in the bargaining. We bought Marilynn a “Chanel” leather bag at Ben Thanh for $25 and I bought a “Prada” shoulder bag at a stall for $9. The quality is there if you have time to dig, but it’s harder for the tourist hurrying to catch up with the group or not miss the bus. Your negotiating posture is always better if you have time or don’t really care if you take the particular item home. There’s always next time or another market.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

An Phu and District 7

In the 1960’s and ‘70s I spent some time in Beirut. It was the financial center of the Middle East. The French were there. The Brits were there. The Americans were there. And the sheiks of the Middle East used it as an escape from the rigid rules of their own kingdoms.

Beirut was mostly about oil. There was none there, but it was where it was traded and where the revenue was exchanged for goods and services. One company dominated the Middle East in those days – Aramco – the Arabian American Oil Company. It operated exclusively in Saudi Arabia, and Aramco compounds, the small cities where the employees lived, were modern, complete, walled, and self sustaining cities within the boundaries of Saudia. Nice houses and apartments, supermarkets, swimming pools, movie theaters, and clubs. You could live in an Aramco compound for years and never see how ordinary Saudi citizens lived.

I was reminded of the Aramco compounds this week. My personal Saigon is the downtown core, Districts 1 and 3, where I work, eat, drink coffee, and workout, but the city is much bigger than these two neighborhoods. Most of my needs are met here, but not all foreigners – expats – feel that way. There are two other districts, 2 and 7, where the majority of the expats have chosen to live. On Friday I went to visit a new acquaintance, a German architect who has been working in Saigon for 10 years. Axel Korn, lives and works in District 7. He lived in District 1 for a couple of years, but moved to 7 because that’s where his office and most of his work is located.

You have to cross the river from downtown to get to District 7 and then drive through an area of rundown tin-roofed structures and plant nurseries. All over Saigon businesses selling the same products group together, but seeing the nurseries could have been a clue about what was to come. Just beyond the nurseries you start to see the high rises of District 7. Drive 5 minutes further and you think you might be in Florida. Palm trees line wide boulevards. A promenade winds along the river. Shopping malls, supermarkets, KFC, they're all there along with the international schools, there must be 10 of them, where the expats send their kids. If I had school age kids I would probably live in District 7 too, but only for the proximity to the schools. It’s not Saigon. We toured one of Axel’s multi-use building complexes. It’s gorgeous with retail on the first two levels, apartments, gyms, three swimming pools and a rooftop terrace with a garden view of the city. But it's not Saigon to me.

On Saturday I visited the other expat area, An Phu, in District 2. My destination was a travel writing workshop, and the venue was a riverside café in the BP compound (British Petroleum – there’s the oil connection again). The compound is lovely. It’s walled and gated with tree lined streets and speed bumps. The houses are hidden behind other walls and the gates have signs that say Beware of Dog or No Solicitors. The Boathouse Café is modern, upscale and open to the view and river breezes. There are outside tables under the trees and you can watch the freighter traffic on its way to the Port of Saigon. It’s a great setting. I had a seared tuna salad with arugula and cherry tomatoes that was delicious. An Phu is not a small Florida city like District 7, but neither An Phu nor District 7 is Saigon for me. There are many sides to the city and they all make it what it is. I still choose the smells, sights, and sounds of the downtown core and Cholon in District 5. They are the real Saigon to me. I'm a newcomer though and I might change my mind.