|
The world population totals around 6.8 billion. Yet, there is a theory that claims everybody in the world is connected to each other through six people.
The President of the United States, a street cleaner in Vietnam, just fill in the names. The notion labelled The Small World Phenomenon, also called Six Degrees of Separation, was first talked about by Stanley Milgram in the 1960s. It proposes that “you are only ever six ‘degrees of separation’ away from anybody else on the planet.”
The Oscar-winning film, Babel, is a movie based on the idea that the lives of the characters are intertwined, even though they live thousands of miles apart. Lonely Planet Six Degrees is a TV travel show that uses the same theory to explore various cities where the hosts are introduced to the locals who in turn introduce them to other locals. And so on. Meanwhile, the LinkedIn professional networking site operates on the concept of how many steps you are away from a person you wish to communicate with. It even displays an icon that shows how many degrees the separation is.
Our Experiment
Chances are you probably don’t personally know any Hollywood movie stars, Colombian drug dealers or Nelson Mandela. But, maybe a friend does, or a friend of a friend, or a friend of a friend’s friend.
Well, we decided to try it out ourselves by starting in Saigon and seeing what came up. To see if people could connect across class, race, economics and geography, we started out by locating volunteers who would be at opposite ends of the social spectrum. But connecting to that person didn’t mean finding them – that would have been too easy. The challenge was to create a human chain of contacts that ended with their “target”, a noodle seller named Lam.
The Improbable Target
Luu Que Lam has lived in Saigon all his life and has never left the country. And in a period where countries around the world are just starting to come out of recession, what does he have in common with two international stars that earn millions of dollars?
We showed Lam pictures of the two people who were about to link to him, and asked if he thought Tata Young and Maggie Q could connect with him just by building a chain of their friends and acquaintances. Lam shot back, “No way, I think it’s impossible. It’s like 100 degrees of separation right there.”
Was six degrees all that separated them? Were the links fewer or much more? Or was a connection established at all? Read on to find out.
It’s A Small World After All
Time to connect the dots to form the chains. As they say in Vietnam, it’s all about relationships. 
Chain 1
1st Degree
Tata Young
Singer
Thai-American
Amita Marie Young was born on Dec. 14, 1980 in BNH Sathorn Bangkok Hospital to a Thai mother and an American father. At 1m72, she counts being a model, a singer, an actress and an entrepreneur as her professions. At age ten she knew she wanted to be a star, so she entered the Yamaha Thailand Junior Singing Contest which she won, resulting in a contract with Yamaha music.
Tata has sold over 12 million records worldwide, won over 30 music industry and media awards, starred in four films and has appeared as an ambassador for a number of well-known brands including Colgate, Yamaha and Panasonic. She was also on the front cover of TIME magazine, among other publications, with Maggie Q, another successful Eurasian.
Her first ever performance in Vietnam was facilitated by the hi-fi. 
2nd Degree
Luke O’Sullivan
Australian
Two and a half years ago, Matt Wenke, one of the original partners of Juice on Mac Thi Buoi, was on holiday at a health farm in Australia. He met someone called Luke O’Sullivan, the managing director of the hi-fi, a live music venue in Melbourne. Three months later, Luke came to Vietnam on holiday the same day that Matt was leaving after having lived here for almost four years. Matt and Luke met at Pacharan and just before Matt left, he introduced him to Rod Quinton.
Rod then went on holiday to Mui Ne with Luke and his family and the two started chatting about music, the hi-fi and how Rod was involved with LoretoFest. The hi-fi consequently sponsored LoretoFest and helped bring in the main act last year. At that stage they were doing nothing more than supporting what they thought was a good cause.
Meanwhile, it became clear that they wanted to expand their business into Asia with the idea that the acts they hired could extend their tour and stop off on the way to or from Australia. Rod Quinton, being Saigon-based and Australian, helped them get their foot in the door.
In September last year, Luke came for a look with a view to see some potential outlets and before he knew it, he was shaking hands and making a deal with a Vietnamese company. 
3rd Degree
Rod Quinton
Entrepreneur
Australia
Rod has bad knees. One lunchtime, just as he was tucking into all sorts of weird and wonderful wildlife, they started giving him jip. He decided to stack two tiny wooden stools on top of each other.
“Within minutes, some army boys who were at the next table came over and poured me shots of rice wine. There were about 20 of them and they all made me drink shots. I got through about two bottles of rice wine and was absolutely slaughtered. I had to be carried out of the restaurant. I later found out that by putting the stools on top of each other I was elevating my status and they were paying me respect!” recalls Rod.
Cultural misunderstandings aside, over Rod’s 12-and-bit-years in Vietnam, he’s done his fair share of things. He’s been involved in the building up of Juice, Pacharan andBoathouse from scratch, as well as helping to organise LoretoFest every year.
He came to Vietnam on somewhat of a whim. His boss at the time suggested that he apply for a job opening here and before he knew it, he was on a plane to Saigon. His contract ended but he decided to stay on and has never looked back.
He’s also known the musician Curtis King for a long time. Rod remembers that they first really started talking after a slight misunderstanding at LoretoFest a couple of years ago.
“Curtis and his band were due on stage and there were some technical problems. I don’t really remember, but Curtis had a go at me,” he remembers. “I didn’t really think anything of it; I understand how creative people can be sometimes, so I let it slide and forgot all about it. Three or four months ago, he told me he had seen some footage and heard himself, in his opinion, being rude and obnoxious. Now, we’re talking about doing some things together music-wise. It’s a new friendship that I look forward to exploring and hopefully, we’ll be doing some cool stuff together.” 
4th Degree
Curtis King
Musician
American
“Rod and I definitely seem to share a passion for music, for Vietnam, and for the excitement of starting new businesses. It’s good to get the relationship back onto a fresh start. I look back at some of my mistakes over the years, and say, geez, what was I thinking?’” says Curtis.
Curtis hails from Cleveland, which he is quick to point out is the home of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. “Cleveland’s a cool city. Though it will never be the centre of the universe, it’s definitely a fun music town. Growing up as a kid, I had music all around me – from Chuck Berry to Deep Purple to Vivaldi to bluegrass to polka.”
Asia has now been his home for about 20 years. After getting an MBA at Thunderbird (US) in 1991, he ventured off to China as a young man, looking for opportunities and adventures. He worked in the corporate world for “just long enough” he says, having worked with big names like the United Nations, Westinghouse and Nike. Since that time, he prides himself on travelling most of the continent, and speaking quite a few of the languages.
On the music side, though, he’s been playing since the age of four. Curtis says it was only in the year 2000 that he really took the jump into the music business. “I made a deal with myself that I would take the first job offered to me in the music business, and that ended up being working for Tower Records, Singapore.”
Recently he has been involved with Galaxy Studio and Galaxy Mobi, helping to partner them with major foreign music and entertainment companies like Sony.
“This year I’m going to have more fun with the music. Trumpet, harmonica, guitar, flute… I just want to have fun and take my craft up a notch,” he says.
When Curtis first knew of Mariedel, she was singing in the various clubs and bars around Saigon.
“I was impressed with her showmanship,” he remembers. “Recently, we played a gig together in Vung Tau which she organised. It was great, I had space to do my own thing and for once, I didn’t have to be the organiser and deal with musicians!” 
5th Degree
Mariedel Mapile
Singer
Filipino
Mariedel met Curtis through music. They had seen each other around town, but she was nervous about meeting him because she thought he would be a bit eccentric.
“I was so surprised when I got to talk to him because he wasn’t strange at all! We’ve played together on two occasions since then, the most recent was at a restaurant opening in Vung Tau, and both have been a lot of fun,” she says.
Smiley and bubbly, Mariedel first landed in Vietnam 18 months ago. Coming from the Philippines to Ho Chi Minh City was not a big thing for her. She finds Manila more chaotic and the people are much the same in terms of friendliness.
Unlike most, she fell into singing by accident. She describes herself as “music illiterate” and claims that
it’s a long running joke with her friends that she’s in the business, especially as she’s also shy.
“I never wanted to be a singer,” she admits, “but there used to be contests in Manila that had cash prizes. I entered them for the money, I didn’t even care about the trophy! Since then, I’ve never looked for anything, it’s just happened.”
Truth be told, Mariedel doesn’t really know Eric that well despite having lived in the same apartment block for over a year. They have friends in common, but have only been formally introduced once at one of her gigs.
“It was strange at first, because I had seen him so much, but never said anything, and now I was finally meeting him,” she says.
She sees him a lot in the lift and through their kitchen windows, which face each other.
“If it was anybody else, I’d be a bit weirded out, but Eric always smiles, so it’s ok,” she says. 
6th Degree
Eric Bruen
Teacher
Irish
Mariedel and I are neighbours. We meet a lot in the lift, say hello and smile at each other, and our kitchen windows face each other, so I often see her doing the dishes. I also went to one of her gigs once,” says Eric.
Twenty-nine-and-a-half-year-old Eric (he’s dreading the big three-oh) “accidentally” ended up in Vietnam when he stopped off in Saigon on his round-the-world-trip. Having been advised against a trip here, he came, somewhat reluctantly, planning on only a week’s holiday. Funds were low, however. So, to keep the trip moving on he got a job teaching. Seven years later and he is still here.
A creature of habit and one that doesn’t like change, Eric is settled in Vietnam and has no plans to move on. He’s made a few friends over the years including eight mice, three dogs, five guinea pigs, two parrots, two tortoises, baby pigeons and three dogs that have all, at one time or another, lived with him in his small apartment.
Lam knows Eric by name, well, that’s not so hard considering he scrawled it on Lam’s noodle stand wall with a whiteboard marker.
Seven years ago, Eric was a frequent customer. “At that time, there weren’t many nighttime spots to go after a drink or two, so I went there a lot.”
One particular occasion is forged in his memory: “One night, I bought a bottle of vodka with a friend and drank it at Lam’s. I was completely wasted and passed out across the tiny plastic stools. It was rainy season and when I woke up, I grabbed the awning that was propped up with bamboo poles. It collapsed and all the water that had gathered fell on top of the lady cleaning the dishes. It took me a few days before I could go back.” 
The Target
Luu Que Lam
Noodle Seller
Vietnamese
On the corner of Bui Vien and De Tham, is a small stand where Lam cooks noodles throughout the night. He works from 7pm to 9am and then sleeps during the day.
Always smiling and gracious, he has seen his fair share of Saigon’s dodgy nighttime manoeuvres. Not surprising seeing as his place of work stands in the shadow of two of the city’s most infamous bars, Crazy Buffalo and Go2.
Before earning a living cooking noodles, he was a painter, retouching paint on bicycles and motorbikes. He dished up his first plate of noodles 12 years ago.
“At first, they didn’t taste so good but they’ve got better over the years,” he says.
His clientele comes from all over the world and he thinks of foreigners much the same as Vietnamese.
“There are some good, some not so good. Sometimes they drink a lot and then don’t remember whether they’ve paid or not. Some people come with no money, drink and eat and then leave without paying. I usually just let them go,” he tells.
Lam has never left Saigon.
When asked about when he plans on retiring, he laughs and replies, “As long as I can work, I will work.”
Chain 2
1st Degree
Meagan Jamieson
English Teacher
Australian
It was about six months ago that Meagan first visited Lam’s. Now a fairly frequent customer she says, “I usually go there on a late night because I’m hungry and drunk and the noodles are very tasty. Lam is always there whenever I go.”
In Australia, she worked for Jenny Craig, a weight loss centre before her itchy feet got the better of her and she decided to up and leave. She ended up here by chance.
“I did the TESOL course and then a year later finally started applying for jobs. I got a couple in China and then this one in Ho Chi Minh City came up. I thought a city sounded so much better than a province somewhere in China,” she explains. “It was all very spontaneous and just happened. Vietnam blows your mind, but you kind of just gel with it, accept it for what it is. It’s chaos but you love it. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
Meagan loves her job and has a great time with her students. She met Warren at work and has known him for around a year and a half. She remembers one night when they were drinking at a friend’s house and walked outside only for Warren to think he had lost his motorbike. 
2nd Degree
Warren Hammond
English Teacher
Australian
Warren also remembers the night in question.
“We had been drinking rum and I couldn’t find my bike anywhere. I also can’t remember where I found it, but have a feeling it might have been just around the corner,” he recalls.
A demon on the dance floor and born in Fiji to Fiji-Indian parents, Warren definitely has an element of the exotic about him, something that does not pass by unnoticed in Vietnam.
“I get stared at a lot here. Most of the time I don’t mind but sometimes it gets a bit irritating,” he says.
Maybe part of the reason is down to the Honda Win 100 that he drives around on. It certainly adds to the cool factor and is his pride and joy.
“I love this thing.” he says as he gently caresses it.
Coming to Vietnam was a 180-degree spin for Warren. Before arriving here, he was in Australia and had a well-paid job as supervisor of a mortgages operations team.
“I needed a change, if I didn’t do this now, I would never have done it.”
But, that was all part of the appeal and now Vietnam definitely has a hold on him.
He met Kieta through his childhood friends. He labels her as “one of a kind and very unique”, and they’ve had a lot of alcohol-induced “good times” together, lots of which have involved getting down and dirty on the dance floor. 
3rd Degree
Kieta Papier
English Teacher
Zambian
Kieta’s first impression of Warren was that he was “big, manly and really cool with his diamond earring.”
The thing she really loves about him, though, is his dancing.
“We were at Go2 one night, I saw him dancing and pounced on him. I then tried to get him into bed but it didn’t work,” says Kieta.
Kieta is one of a very few white Zambians in the world. Her skin, hair and blue eyes have been a source of fascination for both her native Zambians and the Vietnamese, especially when they learn she is from Africa. People can’t seem to grasp that she is African.
“In Zambia, people don’t treat me so nicely because they think I’m one of the white expats taking all the jobs. I often get told to go back to my country. Usually, I have to take out my identity card. The Vietnamese don’t believe me either,” she says.
She adds: “They ask me where I’m from and then they think I’m mixing up Chau Phi (Africa) with Nuoc My (America). Then, they ask me why I’m white. I say because my parents are white. I think they think I’m confused or have made up a story.”
Mauled by a leopard at the age of five, Kieta is a special case. She recently got her hair cut very short and gets called ‘handsome boy’ on a regular basis. Her female Vietnamese work colleagues now act all girly and giggle a lot around her, especially when she asks if they have a boyfriend. Her appeal is universal.
Kieta hates travelling and so it’s sort of a miracle that she ended up in Vietnam at all. After stepping off the plane, she was terrified: “The traffic and the frantic pace of life scared me. I didn’t understand anything, I didn’t know where I was, how to get around, what to say.”
Now that she’s here, she likes the culture, the weather, how cheap it is and that “it’s laid back and disorganised, just like me.”
She first met Vy through an old housemate.
“One night, our house got broken into and some computers and other valuable items were stolen. Vy helped us out a lot in dealing with the police, which was a long and arduous process,” remembers Kieta. 
4th Degree
Vu Ha Kim Vy
Reporter
Vietnamese
Vy remembers meeting Kieta well: “My friend had told me that her African housemate was going to meet us at the police station to file a police report. I thought she was going to be black, so I was really surprised when I saw she was white. It was interesting because she looked like a boy. She was easy to talk to and seemed to understand the way they handle things in Vietnam.”
Not your typical Vietnamese girl, Vy is loud, a little outspoken on occasion and a bit of a tomboy. Her boyfriend sometimes has to ask her to act more feminine and like a typical Vietnamese girl, but she won’t have any of it.
“I do what I want,” she says, “and if people don’t like it, I don’t care.”
Every Sunday, Vy plays badminton with a group of mostly boys. She more than holds her own in terms of shouting at them as well as playing. She lives in a large house in Tan Phu District with her parents, who are starting to ask when she will get married. It’s beginning to get her down.
“At the moment, my life is comfortable. I don’t have to pay the bills, cook or clean. If I get married all this will change,” she laments.
Vy went to school with Nghi. She recently attended Nghi’s wedding to another former classmate.
“It was crazy that they got together,” says Vy. “At school they didn’t talk to each other and we all thought they would never be a couple. Nghi told me about their relationship a month after it started.” 
5th Degree
Dinh Phuong Nghi
Teacher
Vietnamese
When Nghi first met Vy, they didn’t talk a lot. Over the past few years, they’ve become a lot closer and Vy was one of the few that knew about Nghi and her now-husband’s hidden relationship.
Born and raised in Ho Chi Minh City, Nghi doesn’t feel she belongs in Vietnam anymore. She had a taste of life outside the country when she pursued further studies in Holland and the US.
Back in high school, she describes herself as a timid “blur.” She had a crush on a classmate but he never noticed her.
“On the last day, I confessed by writing on his shirt, but he didn’t realise. We didn’t keep in touch and he went to study in the US. After graduating, he wanted to come back to Vietnam and so got in touch with some of his old classmates, including myself,” she continues.
Luan wasn’t to return to Vietnam on this occasion, though. Their relationship began to develop over Yahoo Messenger instead. It took two months of chatting online before they began dating [online] which they did for a further four months.
“I decided to visit him in the US where we fell in love for real,” she says. “I lived with him on a tourist visa for six months, and we had a secret marriage in the US. My family was so angry and worried. We came back to Vietnam for the reception and now I’m four months pregnant, so my family is satisfied.”
Luan has gone back to the US to get a green card and Nghi is in Vietnam for the moment. They’ve just bought a house in Atlanta where Nghi wants to build her family.
Maggie Q is Nghi’s second cousin. They’ve met twice before in Vietnam, once when Nghi was 11.
“I was really shy because Maggie didn’t speak any Vietnamese and my English wasn’t so good,” recalling the first visit.
They met again when Maggie was 18. “I just remember thinking how beautiful she was,” says Nghi. 
6th Degree
Maggie Q
Actress & Model
American
Maggie Q, born Margaret Denise Quigley, is an actress and former model who initially gained fame in Hong Kong. She was born in Honolulu, to an American father of Polish, French-Canadian and Irish descent, and a Vietnamese mother. Her parents met while he was stationed in Vietnam. After graduating from high school, she travelled to Hong Kong to earn money as a model.
Since then, Maggie Q has starred in a number of Hong Kong movies as well as Mission: Impossible III with Tom Cruise, Live Free or Die Hard (aka Die Hard 4) with Bruce Willis and Balls of Fury. She has also had various advertising contracts with the likes of Coca-Cola, Shiseido and Suzuki.
Our Conclusion
Our experiment found that participants with similar occupations are the easiest factors in choosing how to continue a chain. And although it is all random, people most frequently chose friends as the next link. Professional relationships (for example, Rod to Curtis to Mariedel; and Meagan to Warren to Kieta) were much more likely to lead to a successful chain.
Supposing it turns out that everyone on the planet is indeed connected to everyone else by no more than six steps, what does this mean?
Does Lam care that he’s linked to two women worth millions of dollars? Will he go to Tata Young’s concert, now knowing how closely connected they are, when she plays in Saigon for the first time this year?
“No I will not go see her, and no I don’t care because she really doesn’t have anything to do with me,” he says. “Her money isn’t coming my way. She may only be six people away, but I will probably never see her in my life, and she will never come to my noodle shop.”
“But Maggie Q, I will see. They show her movies on TV here a lot,” he adds.
Sooner or later, given the sheer number of people on Earth and the ways in which people form networks, the six degrees of separation theory will surely become a mathematical certainty. But does that actually mean anything? Will knowing that you’re six steps away from a rich Hollywood star or a homeless person affect how you live or what you do?
We don’t know. But the quality of your relationships with people, and the way you link with them to link to somebody else, certainly will. Especially in a country like Vietnam.
|
|
 |
 PRINT VERSION |
|
 EMAIL |
|
| PRINT |
| |
|
|
|
