Holding Out For High Tech

The author with officials at Party Headquarters, Binh Duong Province, Vietnam.

View Photos (9) Image © 2000 Nikki Itoi

On the early morning drive north from Ho Chi Minh City to the party headquarters of neighboring Binh Duong Province, I stare intently out the car window, fascinated by my first glimpse of the pristine countryside. Meanwhile, my Singaporean hosts prepare me for an interview with Ho Minh Phuong, Chairman of the People's Committee of Binh Duong Province about its new, 500-hectare industrial park. As we pass ten miles of lush greenery, dotted with many apparently new and spacious houses, I wonder what it will be like to meet with a government official in one of the world's last remaining communist countries? The answer, I will soon learn, is quite different than I expected.

The atmosphere at party headquarters turns out to be friendly and upbeat, and Mr. Phuong and his colleagues are eager to discuss how Singapore is helping their province create 150,000 new jobs and raise exports from the province by 50 percent to a projected US$300 million per year. Rather than moving against the grain of Ho Chi Minh City's bustling business environment, the government-supported Vietnam Singapore Industrial Park (VSIP) is helping to fuel Vietnam's launch into the developed world.

I had arrived from Singapore the day before with a young and curious representative from the Singapore Economic Development Board (EDB) named Matthew. This was his first trip to Vietnam too, and together, we would have only some 48 hours to absorb the look and feel of the place. Immediately, I began to notice the signs of an energetic and prospering business environment. On the drive from Tan Son Nhat Airport to downtown Ho Chi Minh City, for example, I noticed ads for Hewlett-Packard and NEC behind the swarm of motor bikes and bicycles drifting along the road. Kok Ping Soon, the EDB's Indochina representative who met us at the airport, explained that global companies like these were initially setting up simple sales and support offices. Ping Soon had spent a good part of the last several months in Ho Chi Minh City trying to convince the same companies to establish manufacturing operations in Vietnam as tenants of VSIP.

My accommodations at the four-star Norfolk Hotel (117 Le Thanh Ton Street) offered additional evidence of a growing business community. The Singapore-owned establishment caters primarily to regional business travelers. It is located conveniently in the center of town between two District One landmarks: the Ben Thanh Market and the Hotel de Ville. My room was comfortable and clean, with all the usual amenities of a western-style hotel including a TV, honor bar and even a complimentary bowl of rambutans. A friendly and helpful staff greeted me every time I entered or left the premises during my short stay. And although I depended on my Singaporean hosts to help with language difficulties, I was comforted by the fact that the hotel offered its own resident interpreter for guests who find themselves in a bind.

The Norfolk's adjoining restaurant and bar served as a convenient starting point for my tour. Cheong Kai Kong, the general director of VSIP, and his wife Cress joined Ping Soon and I for a quick snack. As I concentrated on using my chopsticks to wrap a spring roll with lettuce, a slice of cucumber and a flower-shaped carrot, Ping Soon presented an ambitious schedule for the next two days. However, he promised with a smile to leave me some time for exploring the city and Cress offered to accompany me later that day to visit a silk seamstress she knew.

We hailed a cab in front of the hotel and dodged our way through the traffic across town to the office of the Singapore consulate. In an unadorned meeting room, Thai Thi Tuy Lien described the foreign business environment in Vietnam. In addition to the sales offices of the big names I had already seen, he explained "Vietnam has the land to do next-step processing and eventually to manufacture components for high tech products," he said. "But we are concerned that businesses are backing out and sizing down. Financial services is a particularly tough area for foreign investors. Many market economy structures don't exist. But the Vietnamese are learning that this is not suitable for their economy and so I look at this as a short-term problem," he concluded.

Near the end of the meeting, a crack of thunder interrupted our conversation and a heavy afternoon downpour ensued. As we darted back into the cab, Ping Soon suggested more food was in order: "You have so few meals to enjoy here. What would you like to try next?" I requested a noodle house where I could try a bowl of pho. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Matthew looked apprehensive. "What's that?" he asked skeptically. Ping Soon and I answered together with a vague, "You'll see."

Our cab driver dropped us off at a restaurant. While many of the streetside shops closed down temporarily during the rain, this one was jammed full of locals who sat on low stools eating the traditional Vietnamese soup. The three of us plopped down at a picnic-style table in the back room and breathed in the steamy scent of broth mixed with fresh mint, Asian basil and cilantro. Our orders arrived promptly--one with boneless pieces of chicken that tasted more like turkey, and one with thin slices of beef that simmered right there in the bowl. I turned my eyes toward the side plate heaped with fresh bean sprouts, chilies and at least six different types of fresh herbs, and couldn't wait to dig in.

By the time I had slurped my last noodle, the rain had subsided and Ping Soon suggested a mini-shopping expedition through the Ben Thanh Market. Matthew had arrived in Ho Chi Minh City with a laundry list of requested goods to bring home to his colleagues in Singapore. The most popular item on the list was polo shirts, which reportedly sold for as low as $7.

It was inside this covered market that I felt most like a foreigner. As I peered down narrow aisles cluttered with clothing, housewares, pirated CDs and assorted trinkets, vendors tugged at my arm, inviting me to examine their merchandise. What caught my eye first was a collection of small lacquered wooden boxes for holding business cards and jewelry. "How much?" Ping Soon inquired assertively as he prepared to test his newly acquired bargaining skills. "Fifteen US," replied the merchant sternly. The negotiation that followed happened so quickly, I didn't realize for a moment that they had agreed on a final price of $10 for all five boxes I wanted. Ping Soon gave a satisfied smile as I pulled out the cash. He repeated this performance at a coffee stand and a polo shop before we left the market.

Outside, we met up with Cress and she accompanied me to a silk seamstress on Le Loi Quan Street. Here I browsed through racks of "readymade" blouses and pants, all in brilliantly colored fabrics with intricate patterns. After modeling a few outfits behind a makeshift curtain in the back of the store, I decided to buy a peach colored traditional Vietnamese ao dai for $30 and a festive looking silk blouse for another $15.

Across the street at Tranh Theu Lua, Ping Soon led me into a gallery of embroidered silk tapestries with such vibrant colors and delicate designs that they looked like oil paintings. I eventually chose one that pictured a vase of spring flowers and the gallery's manager promptly sat me down for a "purchasing transaction" that involved a cup of tea, a booklet describing the gallery's artwork and an informal photo session for the store's customer logbook.

With my consumer desires satisfied, I returned to the Norfolk to wash up for the evening's dinner meeting. In the momentary solitude of my room, I collapsed onto the bed and turned on CNN for a break from the exciting but overwhelming unfamiliarity of this city.

Ho Chi Minh City has a handful of restaurants that cater to the foreign business and expat communities. At one of the city's more elite establishments, Le Caprice (The Landmark Building 5B Ton Duc Thang Street, 15th Floor), I met Lai Chun Loong, the president of SEMB Corp, which is part of the VSIP consortium; along with Kai Kong, Ping Soon and Matthew for a dinner featuring fine French cuisine and a beautiful evening view of the Saigon River.

Mr. Lai chatted comfortably about his familiarity with the US. He told me that he traveled frequently to San Francisco and New York; that his two children attended colleges in the States; and that he had almost bought a building in Times Square a few years ago. Mr. Lai is a savvy Singaporean investor who keeps a careful watch on the business scene in Vietnam. He is an owner of the Norfolk Hotel and aggressively seeks out additional opportunities for investment. "The people here never lost their capitalist instincts," he observes, "and they are wealthier than the official figures suggest." To prove his point, we drove to the newest attraction in town, the Saigon SuperBowl. Even on a Tuesday night, this combination bowling alley and discotheque was packed with young people willing to pay $4 per game, which isn't cheap even by US standards. Every lane in the bowling alley was occupied by groups of four to ten players. And in the discotheque, girls in little cocktail dresses took over the dance floor, while a crowd of men hovered over the bar. Strobe light hitting a disco ball cast a sparkle over the whole scene. It was as if the frenzy of daytime activity had translated directly to this venue for lively evening entertainment. Mr. Lai had already concluded that his next venture should be a family entertainment center like this one.

The night was still young, Mr. Lai insisted, so we convened next at the stately Saigon Prince Hotel, where a jovial Filipino family band was strumming American folk music to an audience that filled the hotel's spacious lounge. Ping Soon found a table large enough for seven, to include Cress and Kai Kong's mother who happened to be visiting that week, and we enjoyed the music until well after midnight.

Despite my exhaustion, I was unable to sleep for hours that night. My mind whirled with thoughts of the people and sights I'd seen and the interviews that were to come the next day. Vietnam had taken me completely by surprise. It was every bit as exotic, yet not nearly as intimidating as I expected.

I awoke promptly at dawn to the sounds of whistles and horns tapped lightly to alert other drivers of their presence and of people preparing for the day's activities before the hot summer sun sent them running for the shade.

Now we are driving through a guarded security gate at party headquarters in Binh Duong Province. Our driver parks the car and we are guided to a small sitting room with three ornate wooden chairs and a small table for serving tea. "This is perfect," I think--not too formal or too large. But as if reading my thoughts, an assistant quickly decides that this particular space won't do, and I suddenly find myself entering a much grander meeting room, guarded at the door by a four foot tall dragon-like sculpture intricately carved out of a deep, cherry-colored wood.

At the front of this long, rectangular room is a map of Binh Duong Province set on a bright blue background that matches the upholstery of the chairs lined up in two facing rows along the length of the room. There is no table in between the rows, and two special chairs are positioned at the front of the room, like the head of a long, formal dinner table. One is reserved, I suppose, for Mr. Phuong.

Ping Soon strolls to the front of the room, while I hang back, trying to feel at ease. The chairman's deputy head, Tran Van Lieu promptly enters the room and casts a knowing smile at me. "I'm the one who got your visa approved so quickly," she says by way of introduction, "You have no idea how difficult it was. Not only are you American, but you're also with the press." I thank her, and settle down into my post for the next hour. As I pour myself a glass of spring water, I can't help but hope the interview will be worth her trouble. VSIP's marketing director, Nyugen Tri Ly--a native of California who has lived in Ho Chi Minh City for over three years--has accompanied us to this interview in order to play the role of interpreter for me. But he cautions in advance that he is not a translator by trade. One more thing to worry about, I think.

Just as I am about to drift off into my own thoughts, the chairman makes his entrance and we all rise to greet him. Mr. Phuong shakes my hand vigorously and tells me through Mr. Nyugen that he is honored to have me there to learn about the industrial park. We take our seats and Mr. Phuong begins: "VSIP is very important because it's bringing industrial companies to our province," he says, reading from his notes, yet also peering over his glasses to make frequent eye contact with me.

The translation is working out reasonably well and Mr. Nyugen gets stumped only a few times and we proceed at a good pace. Not long into the interview, however, I am confronted with a glaring white light coming straight into my eyes from what appears to be a television camera. I would find out only after the interview was over that the local television station had been invited to record this unusual session.

"VSIP," Mr. Phuong emphasizes, "is one of the country's boldest economic experiments to date." The park is designed to attract foreign businesses to set up operations in Vietnam. Mitsubishi is among the well known international partners developing the park. And to date, VSIP has commitments from 22 international companies with investments totaling US$276 million that will provide jobs for 3,500 people in Binh Duong Province.

Le Thanh Cung, the Vice-Chairman and head of the People's Committee Management Board of VSIP, explains how the park helps its tenants deal with various levels of government in Vietnam. "We have a special management board set up to guide companies through the system. We help companies resolve problems as quickly as possible. Our goal is to create an opening for investors to gain access to investment advice, local market research, complete paperwork and obtain a permit to begin work. Most importantly, we provide a direct link to authorities in Hanoi and within the local government."

In reality, the process isn't quite as streamlined as Mr. Cung indicates, but a link of any kind to the government becomes a critical advantage for attracting global corporations that would otherwise be intimidated by the complex system of government regulation. "We can't make VSIP viable without the support of the Vietnamese government," Ping Soon explains. "But really the idea is that if we can get this started successfully, then all of Vietnam will benefit from it because the park will become an integral part of the economy."

A subsequent visit to the site of VSIP confirms my suspicion that the park has a long way to go to meet the expectations of Mr. Phuong and Mr. Cung. The park's development team is frantically trying to finish burying power and phone lines. Kwek Su Ngi, the development manager of VSIP says his group was discouraged by bad weather and feared they'd miss their very first deadlines. "After the groundbreaking in May of 1996, it rained from June to November," he recalls. "Every day we were here shaking our heads. We didn't think we would meet the schedule." They did manage to catch up to the master plan though, and in June 1997, the first evidence of Singapore-style landscaping was beginning to appear, and the first few tenants were moving into their new factories. Although VSIP hadn't attracted any high tech tenants as of June, Mr. Ngi said the park was reserving the roadside lots for Motorola and Compaq.

The people of Ho Chi Minh City are enthusiastic that information technology, more than any other industry, will position Vietnam in a more favorable rank in the global economy. Last spring, the city hosted a technology exposition that attracted over 100,000 students and businesspeople over the course of four days. Mr. Lien has observed that Vietnamese students take as many computer courses as they can, and that many adults are enrolling in nighttime classes to gain a technical education and to sharpen their English language skills. He believes that if the country's experience with training engineers to service Harley Davidsons is any indication, then with enough training, many of these students will become highly skilled engineers.

Last on the agenda of my visit is a lunch meeting with Brian Cua of the Liwaway Food Industry Company, one of the first tenants of VSIP. After a quick stop at a cashew plant in Binh Duong Province where Matthew picks up the last item on his list, we return to Ho Chi Minh City to meet Mr. Cua at Vietnam House (93-95 Dong Khoi Street), a popular establishment for business meetings. My hosts order a spread of seafood dishes like spicy fish cakes, baby squid and sautéed prawns that would put most of San Francisco's finest Vietnamese restaurants to shame. The aroma of a spicy oyster soup flavored heavily with fresh dill would linger long after the meeting had adjourned.

I say good-bye to Mr. Cua and rush with Ping Soon and Matthew back to the Norfolk to retrieve our luggage. We are flying back to Singapore together that afternoon. On the drive to the airport, I remember something Mr. Lien had said the day before: "The business environment is changing extremely quickly here and opportunities abound." In just two full days of scurrying about the city, I had begun to realize the truth of his statement. Today, any visitor can attest that Ho Chi Minh City is nearly bursting with activity--peoples' spirits seem high; multinational corporations are making their way into Vietnam; and a growing number of establishments have carved a lucrative niche in catering to the business and expat communities. Economic development is happening, if only at a frustratingly slow pace. So while there may not have been much for a technology business journalist to chronicle this time, I'm sure I'll be returning soon.

Published on 5/1/98