Friendship

In 1962 I was in the entering class at UC Berkeley's Boalt Hall. There were 250 of us and we were divided into 3 classes sorted alphabetically. By the end of the year I knew almost everyone A-H.

Like all social organisms we also sorted ourselves - mostly by age and experience. When you're 25, three or four years can seem significant. That year I made friends with Dick Duane. Dick had spent a couple of years as a Naval officer and I was coming off a 4 year stint as a Marine Corps pilot. He was a swimmer and water polo player at Cal, so we often went down to the pool at Pauley Pavilion to swim laps. Dick did 3 to every 1 of mine.

When I think back on those years I don't remember spending much off-campus time with him - maybe an occasional beer at Larry Blake's or down College Avenue at McNally's, but he had his friends - and Kit, the girl he married - and I had another group that lived in a big house on Scenic Ave and drank beer and played music on the weekends. I think Dick was more serious than I was. As it turns out, he was also a better musician but I didn't find that out until years later. He was pretty quiet when it came to talking about himself.

For 3 years we continued our lunchtime swims and casual conversations. Those were heady days in Berkeley. During the summer of 1964 Dick went to rural Georgia to work on a civil rights project and that fall the Free Speech Movement took over the campus.

After graduation I went to Europe, then to Los Angeles where I found out that practicing law was not for me, and then on to New York when I took a job with Pan Am. Dick stayed in Berkeley. 45 years later he's still there.

Law school was formative, and I remember this incident clearly: Sometime in our first year Professor Jackson, a humorless straight-arrow Contracts teacher, gave us a piece of homespun advice. He told us that there was great satisfaction to be had in being a small town general practioner. Picture Abe Lincoln. We all thought he was demented. Everything in a major law school points to the large corporate law firm as the highest and best career path. I can tell you that for me life at Loeb & Loeb in LA was a mind-numbing experience. So much so that I never tried Professor Jackson's formula. Dick, however, did take that path. He's been handling small to medium size cases across a variety of disciplines for 45 years. He's still doing it, although his son Dan is getting tired of hearing that "This one is my last case."

Dick and I have stayed friends and in touch over all those years, even though we have never lived in the same place and made different choices. Dick continued his practice, married Kit, had two children, became a rock climber (climbed El Capitan when he was 60) and developed a taste for vacations in France. Kit became an accomplished book editor and last year edited Karl Marlantes Vietnam war novel, Matterhorn , which Sebastian Junger says "may be the best novel of the Vietnam war - or any war for that matter." In short, they have led interesting and productive lives.

Dick and I talk on the phone every couple of months and Marilynn and I have had the good fortune to see them on visits when I have to work in Oakland. They've been married almost 50 years. They live in a small Berkeleyesque house on the unglamorous flats below Shattuck. They've been there 30 years. Their son, Dan, is an accomplished novelist and magazine writer and daughter Kelly is an award winning documentary film maker. Dick and Kit are great friends - and my heroes. They are perfectly ordinary in many ways and perfectly exceptional in many others. They are accomplished professionals at their work, they have two accomplished children who alternately love and hate them, they love their friends and go to the mat to celebrate each other's accomplishments.

Everyone has a story. I like theirs.

Power Sharing...

If the guy on top gets electrocuted the guy lower down takes over. That's the power back up system in Saigon.

For the past couple of months daytime temperatures have been hovering around 100 degrees here. Even the natives are complaining. When it's this hot you want to be inside with the A/C on and the fans turning. Unfortunately, there isn't enough power in Vietnam to go around so power in the industrial and hi-tech parks is usually only available 3 days a week. Most of those plants have their own aux generators so they can keep going. In the rest of the city the power authority does its best to keep it on, but every day some neighborhoods get taken off the grid to save the system from catastrophic failure. If you're lucky you find out ahead of time. If not, the lights go out, the A/C goes off, and you grab your laptop and head for a coffee shop with wifi in another part of town. I've come to know that if the power fails before 10am it will be off most of the day.

I'm almost as fascinated by the wires and wire bundles of Saigon as I am by the mysterious rules that govern motorbike traffic. I've been told that it's so difficult to figure out what the wires are actually hooked up to that the power company waits until they fall down - then they trace them back to the source. Take a look at this picture and multiply it by every intersection in a city of 8 - 10 million. It's a miracle anyone can figure it out.

Yesterday the Seattle Times had an article entitled "Deadly shocks in Vietnam raise safety-rule concerns." At least somebody is paying attention, but I guess when school kids start to die because there are live wires on school grounds or customers die because they touched an ungrounded ATM it starts to get noticed. Check it out:
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/nationworld/2012094687_vietnamshocks12.html
It's an exciting, some would say electrifying, place. Remember to wear your rubber soled shoes.

The Women of Vietnam

Marilynn made these observations about the women of Vietnam recently.

"The woman thing” here is fascinating----it is very hard to get real info; so much of what I say is just based on observation and what people who have been here a long time say. All day long there are multitudes of men sitting on little plastic chairs on the street mostly in groups---during the day they smoke, drink coffee, gossip, or gamble. At night it's the same but with beer.

People truly live on the street here even if they have somewhere else to go. Women only sit on the little chairs to eat and then leave. No ”lollygagging” as my Mother used to say.

Women seem to “man" all of the food stands that are everywhere on the street. Same with most shops, and, by the way, the stands have to be pushed into place everyday. It's usually a long push and the sites have no running water, so they bring that too---plus all the ingredients collected fresh early in the day.

Older women seem to be the primary street sweepers and garbage collectors---this is very unattractive work, dirty, hot and collection is to pushcarts—so of course they are pushing them by hand---all the woman of this class wear the print polyester/silkish pajamas. This includes all of the construction women even if they are mixing concrete. Women seem to carry most of the “loads,” bars balanced across shoulders---heavy loads both baskets-----even very old women who have some difficulty doing this.

This is the Vietnamese social security system-----Maybe some of our folks screaming about entitlements should see this---probably just say “they should have pulled themselves out of this while they could.”

Then there are the brides---Jack and I spend Sunday AM’s in a very Starbuckish coffee place across from the big cathedral ---watching endless parades of brides in the most elegant of Vera Wang---like dresses---we are told that most of the dresses are rental—but they are beautiful---the hair and makeup too are gorgeous---even the most ordinary of girls look luscious----the whole wedding thing is amazing it is a huge business here---I don’t know who the brides are but it looks like a real setup for long term disappointment from here---they arrive by limo or taxi with a decked out groom and a cadre of red carpet type photographers who rearrange the veils---float them for pictures—have the brides running and the train floating---it is so amazing and funny to us and sort of sad…………….me thinks the groom will be in a little plastic chair in about a year………….

The Next Shanghai

Jimmy Antzoulis is the project manager on the Bitexco building in the heart of Saigon. He's a Greek-American from Astoria, Queens, New York City. Jimmy is the best of America although he hasn't lived there since 1983. He works for Turner, one of the biggest building contractors in the world. He's lived in China, Abu Dhabi (his favorite), Dubai, London, and a host of other places before coming to Vietnam two years ago. Yesterday, he loaded us in the external hoist and took us to the 57th floor of the new building. It will eventually be 68 stories, but they are only up to 57 at the moment. The crews work 24/7. This is Vietnam. They plan to open for business with 5 floors of high-end retail and 63 floors of leased office space by the end of October.

When I got to Floor 57 I poked my camera through the webbing and took a picture of the Saigon River and the green grassy patch on the other side. It's not all grass; there are houses on the river and the government is building a tunnel and a freeway to take away some of the traffic stress that plagues the city. But, beyond the riverside houses it's grass, trees, and farmland.

I was in Shanghai this time last year and witnessed the most amazing urban landscape on the planet. It's called Pudong. It's across the river from The Bund, the old commercial district of the city. At night you can stand on the promenade and look across to Pudong. There are hundreds of modern skyscrapers, including the world's second tallest building,the world's tallest hotel, as well as a building with a 60 story video screen that runs day and night. It's incredible. 30 years ago it was all farmland.

Jimmy told me yesterday that the green patch I was photographing is Saigon's Pudong. There are plans to pave and build just like they did in Shanghai. The Sunday Vietnam News had earlier reported that there are projections of 30 million people in the greater Saigon area by 2050. Unofficially, there are 10 million now. This is a centrally controlled economy. The people in those riverside houses and huts will be "relocated". I think that means evicted.

Their Spa...

If you looked at the picture of our spa in the previous blog you will see the contrast in lifestyle amenities. At the other end of the scale is the guy in the picture on the right. I pass him every day on my walk to work. He always says hello and touches his chin to show that he'd like to give me a shave. Since I don't have any hair there isn't much else in his marketing quiver. Still, that doesn't seem to keep the shoeshine boys from wanting to shine my flip flops or Marilynn's running shoes. After all, this are bootstrap entrepreneurs. My barber friend is a classic sidewalk operator - he has two ripped unmatched chairs patched with strapping and duct tape sitting on the sidewalk with an torn dirty awning above and a hand mirror propped on the windowsill. There is no running water, so he has a bucketful sitting against the wall. He's not always busy, but he's busier that I would imagine, and he does shaves with a straight razor (scary thought) and lots of haircuts. Since he works in the street he doesn't worry about the hair that falls on the ground. Apparently no one else does either, because all the broken pavers and and cracks in the sidewalk are full of hair and have been ever since I started walking this street 9 months ago. It's an interesting contrast, because almost everyone has a small Vietnamese broom and they are always sweeping dirt and leaves. There must be a special dispensation for fallen hair. No one else seems to care or notice. I guess it's a cultural difference.

There are many...

Our Spa...

I'm feeling guilty, negligent, remorseful, petulant, and unworthy at the moment, because I made a promise to myself to be disciplined and diligent with this blog. I could blame work, which involves long tiring days, but I think it's a different kind of fatigue. I have too much to write about and by the time I decide to sit down I can't sort and select the right subject so I do nothing.

This picture was taken at one of the spas where we go on the weekend to be pampered. Saigon is full of spas. I guess, if I had thought about it before I came, I would have imagined that most would be what we Americans call massage parlors. The truth is that there are many high-end luxury spots where pampering is an art and the price at the top end is about one-third of what you would pay in the US. Marilynn and I have become massage sluts; we can't get enough of a good thing. I don't have any hair, but Marilynn gets her hair shampooed and blown dry, complete with a half hour neck and head massage for $10. Then, for $15 you can have a one hour foot massage with two masseuses working from the toes to the knees while you sit or snooze in a big easy chair. Or, for $27 you can have a 90 minute "relaxation" massage with your choice of scented oils to improve your circulation. But, the ultimate massage experience is the 90 minute 4-hands massage with two therapists working out the kinks at the same time. I know it's a rationalization, but with the heat and chaos of the city and the long work days it is easy to justify the indulgence on the weekend.

Today is Liberation Day

We live one mile from the United States Consulate in Ho Chi Minh City. The new Consulate was built on the ground where the US Embassy stood thirty-five years ago, and on this day thirty-five years ago NVA troops were pouring into the city and US helicopters were running a last desperate shuttle between the Embassy grounds and ships of the Seventh Fleet carrying US citizens and loyal Vietnamese nationals away to safety. It was the end of the "American War," the end of a divided Vietnam, and the beginning of the Vietnamese diaspora - the displacement and dispersal of more than 2 million Vietnamese across the world.

After the war the US embargoed Vietnam and the victorious North Vietnamese confiscated all the private property in South Vietnam and built "re-education" camps to enlighten its newly unified countrymen in the South. I've met people whose family members spent 7 years in re-education camps. There is still friction between the North and South over the camps, and South Vietnamese that didn't escape in the last days of the war resorted to desperate escape strategies on overloaded, unseaworthy vessels or arduous treks across borders to find refuge.

Vietnam today is modernizing at a remarkable rate. There is an emerging middle class and some have established great wealth, but for more than 15 years after the war the country was desperate and impoverished. The change began in 1989 when the government made the decision to accept private investment and allow a flow of market products and services. Today Vietnam's economy is thriving even though there are still large pockets of poverty.

April 30 is Vietnam's Fourth of July - Liberation Day. It's huge - parades, fireworks, political posturing, red and yellow banners on every tree and the red Vietnamese flag with the big yellow star flying from every house, including ours. It's a four day holiday that includes May Day. Thirty five years after the fall of Saigon the old Embassy buildings are gone. Fifteen years ago the US and the Socialist Republic of Vietnam resumed diplomatic relations. Vietnam returned the property where the US Embassy stood and a new Consulate was erected. We went to a lawn party there recently and the Consul General addressed the mixed group of global citizens in perfect Vietnamese.

But tonight we decided to have our own party. We went to a new Mexican restaurant where we drank Margaritas with chips and salsa and got an early start on Cinco de Mayo. After all, Liberation Day isn't really our holiday.