JACK BERNARD'S TRAVELS

Almost two years ago Marilynn and I chose an espresso place in the heart of Saigon for our morning lattes. We walk the two and a half blocks from the Hotel Rex gym, where we start the day, and we arrive right at 7am when they open the doors. Gloria Jean’s is an Australian chain and it’s hard for a Seattlite to say but I think they make the best tasting lattes on the planet. They are rich, thick, and very strong without being bitter. Tasty and long lasting.

But, the coffee is not the point here. Over the past two years we have made a number of new friends at Gloria Jean’s. The 7am crowd is very loyal and it took several months to break down the barriers but eventually we nodded and smiled and said hello often enough that we were able to start some conversations. The crowd is very eclectic and has changed a little over time: there’s Mike who does micro-loans and venture investing for Dragon Capital, Andrew, the vice provost at RMIT an Australian technology university, Nga, a Vietnamese business owner and single mom to 3 children, David, a San Francisco lawyer who splits his time between the Bay Area and HCMC, and Kaci, an ambitious, attractive, and very smart 28 year old who is starting an Executive MBA program at RMIT in January. Then there is the sidewalk newspaper vendor who saves us the Sat-Sun International Herald Tribune, the motorbike taxi guy right outside the front door who can’t keep his finger out of his nose, and the neighborhood sidewalk restaurant just across the alley. They are all part of our morning.

But, last week Kaci invited us (and Nga)to her 28th birthday party on Monday night at the Renaissance Riverside Hotel. It was a formal sit-down dim sum dinner for 20. Marilynn and I were the only non-Asian faces in the group and most of the other guests had known Kaci for years. It was very flattering to be invited and it was a good party even though it had to be moved from poolside to inside because of the never-ending monsoon rains.

Kaci’s friends are on the move. They are the ambitious, upwardly mobile, college educated, English speaking cohort who want to be part of the global community – whether they stay in Vietnam or move elsewhere. There were more women than men in the group and almost everyone was late 20’s or early 30’s and single. There were journalists, PR people, bankers, executive assistants, interior designers, business development people and Mr. Tri, Kaci’s American educated mentor and English teacher as well as head of external relations for the Ho Chi Minh City People’s Committee. But that’s another story.

One notable difference between the Far East and the US is that age is not limiting in the formation of friendships. Almost all of our friends in Saigon are the same age as our children. I suppose it has something to do with the Confucian influence on the Asian side, but even our expat friends are much younger than we are. It feels good and natural to have these friendships despite the obvious age differences. Next week we are going out with Nga and her children, whom we have not met. It’s been a real privilege getting to know these people.

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It’s been raining here the last two mornings. Normally, mornings are clear and the rain comes later. But these two mornings have highlighted a Saigon phenomenon. Rain or shine, morning in Saigon has a unique feature; it’s the breakfast cart brigade. These are the portable aluminum and glass carts on wheels that set up on sidewalks all over town. There must be 10 between my apartment and my office, a mere two and a half blocks.

The parade starts about 3 or 4am when they leave their overnight storage spots. Most of the carts are pushed by the women who operate them. It looks especially dreary in the rain, but they do it wet or dry. Once they get their spot the carts remain stationary for a few hours. Some of them make morning deliveries. Some of the goods are carried on foot (like those carried by this woman), but most of the activity involves rolling stock.
I don’t know where they keep the carts when they’re not in use. It’s got to be somewhere in their very small living spaces, but it’s hard to imagine. Some are very large. Some are small. Some have fire in the hole. You see the pots hanging from a passenger’s shoulder bar on a motorbike spitting flames and sparks. Some are shiny bright, some are dented and creased from long wear. The vendors themselves often sit on the sidewalk beside the cart waiting for customers. Some sell fresh fruit. Some sell banh mi, the Vietnamese baguette sandwiches. Some sell soft drinks. Some sell pho or noodles. Some sell things that can’t be described.

This is free market capitalism at its most basic.

Everyone is in the game. They’re out early, in the dark, rolling their carts down the street. It’s cars, motorbikes, food carts, buses and bicycles. They all share the road. Then they have to set up their space. It’s very territorial. The carts are positioned on the sidewalk. It’s not easy to set up the more complicated carts. There are little plastic stools for the clientele. The cart surface has to be free for work space. There has to be enough sidewalk free of motorbikes for customers to congregate, and they can’t be so close to the street that traffic can’t get by. But, some customers stay on their motorbikes and order take away. Horns are blaring. Orders are shouted. Dishes are washed in plastic buckets and reused, but there is no running water. Vietnamese immune systems are bullet proof, but it’s a big Petri dish for Westerners.

From 6 – 9am the streets are teeming with people picking up take out, sitting down with friends, slurping Pho, sipping tea, drinking Caphe Sua Da the iced coffee drink with condensed milk, eating noodles or some kind of breakfast cracker. And then it’s done – about 9 everyone packs up and rolls away. I’ve never actually seen the dismantling and dispersal. It happens while I’m at work but by the time I leave for lunch all the small vendors are gone – presumably to their day jobs. That part is still a mystery to me.

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This morning David Brooks of the New York Times asked his readers over 70 for a gift. He asked them/us to send him brief “life reports” on our lives so far, an evaluation of what we did well, of what we did not so well and what we learned along the way.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/28/opinion/brooks-the-life-report.html.

He plans to write a couple columns around Thanksgiving using the “gifts” that show up. I thought about it all morning and couldn’t resist the challenge. Here’s mine:

“Dear David:

My wife and I were drinking lattes in a Saigon coffeehouse when we read your column requesting brief life reports from people over 70. My first question was how could I possibly write a brief report on 74 years of careening around the globe? The answer is I can’t but I’m willing to take a crack at it.

All in all I feel very satisfied with my life. I would like to have made a bigger difference in the lives I’ve touched, but I’ve come to accept that positive change comes in small increments like compound interest over the long term. It’s never a straight line and there are often serious setbacks, but in the big picture sense I see myself as a long term optimist but a short term pessimist. For the past 2 ½ years I’ve been working in Saigon for East Meets West Foundation, a humanitarian aid NGO that is working to improve the lives of disadvantaged people in SE Asia. This is on the heels of a jagged career path that included being a Marine Corps fighter pilot, lawyer, Pan Am pilot, restaurant owner, lawyer again, non-profit manager and now development director at EMW. My parents would likely have said I can’t hold on to a job, but I’ve loved the path that took me from Seattle to Quantico, Pensacola, Orange County, Berkeley, Los Angeles, New York, St. Tropez, San Francisco, Berlin, Miami, Sun Valley, Salt Lake City and back to Seattle before taking on this job in Saigon. Some of the changes and places were volitional and some were dictated by health, furlough, or other circumstances, but, as I’ve told my children, “keep your eyes and ears open; you never know where the next opportunity is going to come from.”

Family has always been important to me, but my choices have created some chaos. I had a brief marriage when I was still a child myself and then I was married for 25 years to a smart and talented artist who was a good mother to our kids but my restlessness did us in too. I love and am proud of my kids, but our relationships have been strained at times and I’ve come to believe that you can never truly know or understand either your parents or your children. You just love them and hope that in their hearts they know it. 13 years ago I reconnected with a childhood friend, we married, and now she is sharing this adventurous life. We’re both in our 70’s and know that life is fragile and can’t be guaranteed. We’re both still healthy and try to live as fully as possible with good friends, family, adventure bike travel, good books, good food, and some good works thrown in.

Faith is a tough one. I flirted with evangelical Christianity in college, Buddhism in mid-life and the smells and bells of the Episcopal church later on. Fundamentalism is spoiling the stew for everyone now, but I will continue to observe the faith as an Episcopalian because it’s in the mainstream of my Western heritage. If I were Eastern or Middle Eastern I might honor the mystery in another way. It might sound wishy-washy but I think it’s important to acknowledge and honor the mystery and as someone from the West this seems the best way for me.

Self-knowledge? I can’t say for sure, but I think I know myself better now than I did when my wife and I met at age 10. I’ve always been pretty independent and not been guided by other people’s needs, desires or expectations. I’ve experienced joy, caused pain, shared the wealth, stayed engaged and been very, very, lucky. I have never given much thought to retirement. I’m wrapping up my full time work in Saigon and next year I will only spend one or two months in Vietnam. I’m excited to have time to devote to other interests, but I don’t think of it as retirement. I’m sure I’ll be actively engaged on a number of fronts. 2 ½ years ago a friend of mine in DC told me “Jack, you’ve found the secret to a fulfilling retirement – another good job.” That’s my story.

This is our picture taken in April.

Sidebar: We wanted to meet you at the Sun Valley Writer’s Conference in August. We were volunteers at the Pavilion and excited to hear your presentation. We bought your book, but I’m not much for standing in lines and you were swamped when you finished. We’re died in the wool liberals but read your column religiously. We think you must be the last real conservative in America. It must be lonely.

Regards,

Jack”

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This girl is selling coconuts on the street near the Opera House in downtown Saigon. My guess is that she is 12 or 13. She’s there every day. I see kids like her all over town. Some are working in street cafes. Some are selling lottery tickets. Some are hawking postcards. Some want to shine my flip-flops. Some want me to buy Chiclets. The question that always comes to mind is “Why aren’t you in school?” The reason is simple; her family needs whatever she can make to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads.

East Meets West has a scholarship program designed to help keep kids like her stay in school. SPELL (Scholarship Program to Enhance Literacy and Learning) is providing scholarships for more than 4500 students from the most impoverished families in Vietnam. These scholarships are incredible. Once the student is selected for the program, he or she is guaranteed a scholarship from the 6th grade through high school that includes tuition, fees, books, uniforms, mandatory tutoring, and a bicycle. No, education is not free in Vietnam. It costs roughly $150 a year to cover the cost of these items – minus the bicycle – and poor families simply can’t afford it. The reason SPELL starts in the 6th grade is that there isn’t much dropout in the lower grades, but at about age 11 or 12 the kids are big enough to help the family by contributing their labor. SPELL aims to help the families keep the kids in school where, if they hang in and graduate, there is a chance for a better life.
I pass this little guy, his sister or his mother every morning at 8 on my way to the office. They take turns working this cart, selling overripe bananas. I’ve never seen anyone buy anything from them but they are there every day. I wonder why he, too, isn’t in school but the answer is clear – his family needs his labor just to get by.

A friend of mine started the SPELL program in 2005. He was on a walking tour of Vietnam and he kept seeing kids like these and asking his guide why they weren’t in school. The guide told him their families couldn’t afford it. He asked how much it would cost and the guide told him $35/year. On the spot he said he wanted to underwrite 1000 kids. It turned out to be a little more complicated and a little more expensive, but there were a lot of after-market additions like tutoring and bicycles. Nevertheless, the program was born at that moment. The first group of scholarship recipients graduates this year and a new program, SPELL Goes to College is in the works.

A dollar goes a long way in Vietnam, and 4500 students are going to get a chance at a better life because of it.

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