Vietnam Gives You Wings

There are things that happened in Vietnam which had nothing to do with the course program (or perhaps they had everything to do with it) from which I learned more about myself. There are many other things to do in the world that wouldn't do as much, like drinking nightly mightily with friends and mates. Fun perhaps, but probably wouldn't lead to as much personal reflection.

If I wasn't directly participating in one of the many trips, events, and classes that were provided in the program, I was likely thinking or preparing for it, or simply spending time with the people in the program. I have mixed feelings about this, but one thing is for sure: I lived as as a study abroad student and I was nothing else for the entire time. I did field work, homework, work in English, and of course, simply work. I may have studied a little Vietnamese too.

What I'm trying to say is that my experience in Vietnam was wholly "an experience," and by that mean a holistic experience, each moment contiguous with the next in theme and function. I'm sad to say that it was mostly in English, but through English we learned a very large amount about Vietnam in academic literature, such as through Jonathan Rigg's reader on South East Asia and development. It had all the insights an undergrad could want and expect, complete with figures and case studies, and almost none of the answers. Our projects asked us to do fieldwork with the workers of Vietnam, and that we did. It would be hard to say that my experiences with these various men, women, and children did not color the way I see my own entrance into the working world. As our professor suggested in our last class on Vietnam's society in transition, perhaps it wasn't what job you had or what you did for work that makes you happy, it's why you do it that could make you happy. Happiness, it seems, is what we Americans are in pursuit of, along with liberty and independence. It is also what Vietnam wants, as is apparent from the heading of every government resume: "Độc lập - Tự do - Hạnh phi," meaning independence, happiness, and freedom. These themes for life will always be with me, and Vietnam has only made their force stronger.

Knowing that Vietnam shares its aspirations with the rest of the world, wanting to develop and modernize to compete on equal grounds makes me think that it would be okay to come back and help it along on its path. This year, our class helped start an NGO, christening it with a 300 jackets for the students of a poor village in Nghê An, the birthplace of Hò Chí Minh. Our professor, the founding member of this NGO, is looking to help the country a lot more. The other day I read on the University of Indiana's philanthropy website that volunteer work really does affect people's perceptions of their happiness. It is good to know that his work will always be here for me to come back to, and perhaps, the wonderfully gifted students at Hanoi University.

Colllaborative Era

Group work is a theme I've seen often throughout my time at Berkeley. All classes now seem to have a group work component in which one's grade is heavily dependent on a collaborative work. It's very clear that collaboration is heavily needed for our future, as has always been the case for humanity, but it's only now that we're getting rid of the idea of single-handed genius. Modern American culture emphasizes the need for working together, perhaps in view of the threat of climate change and the "perfect storm" of crises headed our way, and this is reflected in how classes at Berkeley are. Grades are no longer based on your sole performance, but can only be reflected in the performance of others.

For instance, our grade this semester for our class on Vietnamese society is based on group work we've done collecting interviews and writing the transcriptions. The general problem here was that the work load was doomed to be asymmetrical, and to be done by mostly two out of the five members of the team due to the unequal language ability. The assignment was to collect and translate interviews of workers in Vietnam. Only two of the members could speak both Vietnamese and English well enough to do justice, both of whom were Vietnamese. There was one American who knew fluent Vietnamese, but only conversationally as she was never formally trained. That left two members who were nearly useless, having only editing work to contribute in English. The challenge for me personally, being one of the useless English speakers, was to contribute to the work without slowing down the other members. It was difficult because I felt my contributions in general were only slowing down the execution of project, although the arbitrary nature of the grading system made it so that "participation" was mandatory. And participate I did as much as I could.

I found in the end that if you cannot contribute to a group with work, the best thing to do is to act as a social lubricant. I don't mean you should bring alcohol to the meetings, but that you should try your best to get everyone on good terms. Icebreakers and such are always contrived and awkward, and it's the rare person who can seamlessly move from introductions to icebreaker without it seeming gimmicky, so the best thing to do is to make conversation and to offer little surprises that would make a meeting more pleasant to be at. The best way to do this, of course, is to bring good food. Another option is simply to have the meeting at a nice cafe, but this often creates a tension between prices and those who can afford it. The idea is to have everyone comfortable, and to have people enjoy the feeling of going to a meeting. The other way one can contribute, is simply to keep people to the agenda. To keep them focused, and to perhaps even offer a little comedic relief when needed, and to not over do it.

These are the important lessons I learned dealing with my group, and they're useful even when one has an important contribution to make.

Fundraising in Hanoi

Right before our trip to Saigon, it was announced that we were to participate in a fundraising exercise to help a poor village in Nghe An, the birthplace of Ho Chi Minh. We had a week and a half to raise $1500 for 200 jackets to donate to the children of a particularly depraved village. So, when we arrived in Phu Quoc, we spent an hour brainstorming about how to tackle the problem of raising enough money to keep 200 children warm. For some reason, I thought of finding some sort of corporate sponsorship, neglecting the ethical issues of branding a village with, for instance, blue coats with "Swiss Miss" branded on the breastpocket. Other people had more pragmatic solutions. After a bit of discussion, we decided to hold an information table on campus; ask for donations from friends in family; and to establish a miniature casino so people could gamble for a good cause. A friend and I decided to go ahead and sell coffee at any event that might arise between then and the deadline.

Although I had my doubts about how much we could actually make from selling coffee, especially after the startup costs of getting everything from a water boiler to condensed milk, our first day was a success. Supplies were donated by some of our classmates whose parents owned a coffee shop, and other people helped with odds and ends like an ice chest and extension cords. Our only real costs were the coffee and the milk, along with some tea we bought in order to serve the Hanoian demand for "Tra Da," or iced tea. At the end of the day, we made enough to buy 7 jackets, and that was with limited supplies.

Seven jackets doesn't seem like much when you have to clothe a school of children, but it was still nice to see what 40 college students could do when the came together to raise money for a cause. I'm interested in any ideas people have on raising money in more effective ways, especially in Vietnam. The best example I could think of would be presidential campaigns.

Good Morning, Saigon

Last week we went on our Southern trip. This included Ho Chi Minh City (aka Saigon), a floating village in Can Tho, and what else? Oh yeah, a huge island off the south coast of Vietnam, Phu Quoc (aka paradise). We spent about three days in each spot. By far the most adventurous part of the trip was on the island. There I found a jungle with vines I could swing from into a clear stream. I found secluded beaches with clear water and little fisheys that would scatter as you came close. And of course, there was the seafood, perhaps the best you can find in Vietnam.

We started the trip in Saigon and everyone one was very happy when we arrived. People understood us much easier and the food was everything we'd hoped for. Also, it was Halloween the day after we arrived, and so it was a party packed weekend complete with clubs and costumes. We all seemed to have a great time in Saigon and things were good. I met up with my cousin and we had lunch, and I was glad I had someone in Vietnam I could call my family.

The worst part of the trip was in Can Tho. We stayed in a river village which had an especially itchy breed of mosquito. It was interesting to see freshly caught fish smoked in a traditional twig pit, and also to visit an isolated Muslim community at their Mosque, but the trip soured when I lost my cell phone. After this, we came back to the river house for our last dinner. At first I thought it was quail, and began devouring the little charred carcasses we were served. I love jerkied meat. Right after I said, "This is the best chicken I've had in while," it was announced that we had been fed rat meat. Our teacher's assistant insisted that he thought we had known, but it was clear he had planned it from the start. I figured as much, and I have to say that the meat was pretty good. It was tender, juicy, and the skin grilled just right. To be fair, the meat was actually field mice that nest in the plains surrounding the river. A notch or two above the sewer rat, I'm sure.

Plastic Factory in Ninh Binh

Last Saturday I sat in traffic for four hours on my way to Ninh Binh, a beautiful land of jagged cliffs and fantastic landscapes with space shuttle structures juxtaposed against ancient mountains. I was there helping my friend take footage of a plastic bag factory, which she promised was only an hour and a half away. We were going to make an industrial film for her company, an intermediary between foreign plastic buyers and the Chinese-owned factory in Vietnam.

When we arrived, the smell of plastic was strong and the inks they used to print graphics were left in tubs that were fuming into the air. The workers were 90% women and a few men working on the maintaining the machines, the average wage being around $100 a month. All functions involving detail work, such as punching holes for handles or reinforcing bags with cardboard, were done by women.  The atmosphere, fumes everpresent, was relaxed enough. Though facemasks nor any other protective gear was used, there wasn’t too much wide-eyed intensity nor sweat inching down the cheak of the overworked proletariat. Everything seemed quite normal in the everyday Vietnamese fashion.

In one room of the factory you could see how they took recycled plastic collected from the local neighborhood and reconstituted them into plastic handles and other functional goods. The whole process took place in that one room. Recycled plastic scraps were somehow turned into plastic pellets, then poured into a machine from which plastic bag handles came. Apparently, plastics could be recycled in this was up to five times though out the lifetime of the plastic. It was all very fascinating to see in the moment.

After we were done taking footage, we rode back to Hanoi properly inebriated on plastic fumes. Back home, I heard my friends had visited two other factories, Yamaha and Hanoisimex, which are automotive and textile factories, respectively. I might have missed out, and could help but feel a little regret. It’s hard to say if I’ll ever find myself in a true factory again.

The Mountain Women of Sapa

Last Thursday, I left with about fifteen other study abroaders for Sapa. We got on a train at 10pm, with seats a tad bigger than one on airplanes. I wrapped a silk scarf I got from Hoi An around my head to keep the light out, but I still didn’t get any sleep that night. We arrived in Lao Cai, a small city that borders China, around eight in the morning and got on a bus to Sapa.

The ride up there was foggy but what we could see was still amazing. Terraced rice farming is always impressive, especially in person. We checked into the Pinnochio Hotel and got ready to hike to Dragon’s Mouth. I had to wait for my friend Jake, who was to arrive a little later, and so decided to have breakfast instead of going on the hike. As I walked around, I found a great many stores stocked fool of North Face jackets and other mountain gear, along with an abnormal number of foot massage parlours, at least three every block. There were also groups of ethnic minorities, primarly girls, who dressed in their traditional garb and sold bracelets and finely woven bags in brilliant colors. The girls and women were of all ages, from 6 to 90 years of age, and they all chanted “You buy from me?” At first I tried to teach them how to be more polite with, “Would you like one?” but it didn’t seem to stick.

I walked around a bit for the rest of the day and had some pizza for dinner. There was a market or two, but each stall had the exact same collection of things: mostly northface jackets, knives, lighters, machetes, and wallets. There were of course the usual scarfs and woven bags. As for the restaurants in town, most are European or American fusion, and in general the place is pretty much a tourist trap. That is not to say one can’t have an “authentic” experience.

That night I decided to have a drink with my friend Jake, who had just finished touring China and had come to Vietnam to visit me. We decided to start at the Hmong bar because someone had given us a free beer pass. When we arrived we found a couple of expats, some frenchmen, and about twelve Hmong girls laughing and screaming around a pool table. They were pretty good, and so I decided to write my name on the board. It was a fun night, and I won and lost some. Those Hmong girls were pros, and they had some nasty mouths on them too. Still, they were a fun bunch who knew how to have a good time. Talking to a few of them, I found that many of them lived together, and a few had their own apartments. During the day, they dress up in traditional garb to sell souvenirs, but at night, they dress like the rest of us and they like to get shitty just like the rest of us.  

So we all got pretty drunk and there were a couple of tussles and what not but all ended well. I almost found myself going to a discoteque with them after the bar kicked us out at twelve, but I suppose I hadn’t drunk enough. So as Jake an I passed our hotel, we bid farewell to the enchanting mountain women of Sapa and went to bed.

Hanoi's Millennial Anniversary

Hanoi’s 1000 year anniversary was anti-climatic at best. A couple days before the final night, the huge tanks storing the fireworks exploded. There were enough explosives to light the night sky for a full hour, in 19 seperate but it all exploded at once.

Offically,  two Germans, a Singaporean, and presumably a Vietnamese person was killed in the explosion, but there were many more reported by the locals. The unofficial count is 37 people. The Vietnamese government have tried their best to keep this a secret, and in the aftermath immediately bought replacement fireworks. The led to outrage in the community due to the recent floods in the central region of Vietnam. The official budget for Hanoi’s 1000 year anniversary was $4 billion dollars, and before the explosion, not a penny went to central.

In response to public criticism, the government cut back on the fireworks, leaving only enough for one location in Hanoi, a staudium, as opposed the originally 19 planned. Instead, each region in central affected by the floods was given $100,000, enough to buy a back of cheetos for each person in the region.

The mayor was quoted complaining about having to give the money to central instead of spending more on firewords, which I’ll paraphrase: “In central, floods happen every year,” he said, “but Hanoi's 1000 year anniversary only happens once a millenium.”