More than 16 percent of Vietnamese adults obese
October 21, 2007
More than 16 percent of Vietnamese adults obese |
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A total of 16.3 percent of the Vietnamese adult population is obese, and 32.5 percent of those living in urban areas are over-weight, according to 2005 statistics. |
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These figures were announced in a conference entitled “Overweight and Obesity: Facilitator of Modern Diseases” held recently in Ho Chi Minh City.
According to the National Nutrition Institute, the number of overweight and obese people worldwide is one billion. 24.1 percent of Asian adults suffer from obesity. The US, with 100 million overweight and obese people, has the highest percentage of obesity in the world. Overweight is defined by Body Mass Index (BMI). BMI gauges total body fat by dividing weight by height squared. A BMI over 23 is considered overweight, and over 30, obese. Obesity is linked to such problems as heart disease, diabetes and even cancer, according to reports announced at the conference. Reported by Khanh Vy |
Overseas Vietnamese painter exhibits in Washington
October 21, 2007
Overseas Vietnamese painter exhibits in Washington |
A painting exhibition by an overseas Vietnamese has just opened at the Washington Printmakers Gallery in the U.S. capital. |
The exhibition of works by Nuong Van-Dinh Tran is a combination of traditional Vietnamese and American artistic styles, most notably exhibited by “An Old Oak Tree in Winter.” Born in Vietnam, Nuong and her family settled in the U.S. in 1950. She was initially trained at the Corcoran College of Art before receiving an MFA from George Washington University. Her works have featured at the National Museum of Women in the Arts, the National Museum of American Art, the Smithsonian Institution, the Library of Congress fine prints collection, and at Moscow’s Pushkin Museum. The Washington exhibition will close October 28. Source: VNA |
Vietnam Film Experts speaking at EWC Forum
October 21, 2007
Vietnam Film Experts speaking at EWC Forum Advertiser Staff
Leading authors, filmmakers, and scholars of Vietnamese Cinema are speaking from 5:30 p.m. to 7 p.m. this evening at the East-West Center’s Art Gallery in Burns Hall. The panelists include the author, Ngo Phuong Lan, and co-editor, Philip Cheah, of “Modernity and Nationality in Vietnamese Cinema;” the Award-winning Vietnam filmmaker, Pham Nhue Giang; and Michael DiGregorio, PhD, Program Officer for Education, Media, Arts, and Culture with The Ford Foundation in Thailand and Vietnam.
This event showcases the USA book launching of “Modernity and Nationality in Vietnamese Cinema” (the English translation), which covers the history of Vietnam cinema and the roles that Vietnam’s culture, politics, and history play in the making of Vietnam feature-films.
Highlights from the upcoming Vietnam Film Symposium will also be shared.
After 22 years in Vietnamese prison, man reunites with son
October 21, 2007
After 22 years in Vietnamese prison, man reunites with son
police officer for the South Vietnamese Army, sent to a “re-education” camp by leaders of Vietnam’s new communist regime.
Phan’s father was released in 1982, but remained watched. When Ban Phan joined an anti-communist movement, he was re-arrested in 1985.
Vinh Phan followed in his father’s footsteps, earning his own stint in prison before he escaped and fled to Thailand. He was arrested and imprisoned there, but he was eventually pardoned. He and his mother came to Rockford in 1994.
Since then, Vinh Phan has worked for his father’s release, petitioning the United States government for its political clout.
In May, Vietnamese President Triet Nguyen granted Ban Phan a pardon, citing his age and a desire to be reunited with his family, according to an Associated Press story.
Ban Phan was expelled from Vietnam and told never to return. He went to Thailand, eventually seeing his son there. It was their first meeting in more than two decades.
“When I went to Thailand, he didn’t know me,” Vinh Phan said. Now 42, his face is finely lined from his own prison hardships and years of worrying for his father. “He was skinny. He looked like he was tired.”
Ban Phan had more challenges. The United States denied him entry into the country, believing he had tortured anti-communists while working as a police officer.
After months of petitioning the government with the help of Legal Assistance for Vietnamese Asylum Seekers, the United States granted him one year’s stay in the country.
Vinh Phan found out this week his father would be coming home. He now has a year to figure out how to keep him here.
“I don’t know what I’ll do,” Vinh Phan said. “… I lost 22 years. Now I don’t want to let him go.”
Waiting
Vinh is still standing in the terminal when his friend, Phuc Nguyen, sees on the arrival board that American 154 has landed.
At the designated area, Vinh; his 9-year-old daughter, Kim; Nguyen; and Vinh’s father-in-law, Tham Le, wait anxiously.
Every few seconds, a knot of travelers walk through smoky glass doors separating the public from customs. Vinh scans every face, then peers through the doors. He stands at the front of a cordoned-off area near the arrival door, one of dozens awaiting a loved one.
Minutes tick by. Kim tries to be still, but her 9-year-old sensibilities take over. She wanders away from her dad, gliding around the terminal on her heelies, sneakers with roller skate wheels in the heel.
“She only knows she’s meeting her grandfather,” Vinh says. “She doesn’t know the rest.”
More waiting. Vinh stands on his tiptoes, peering across the crowds. It’s been an hour since American 154 hit the tarmac. For the first time, anxiety crawls across his face.
“I’m getting worried,” he says. “I don’t understand what’s taking so long.”
Now Vinh can’t be still.
He goes to a Transportation Security Administration employee, asking for help. He moves to the outside of the rope line, subconsciously creeping toward the door.
An hour and a half after his father’s plane lands, he learns it can take up to two hours for non-U.S. citizens to clear customs.
Vinh relaxes a notch and checks the time.
Then he spots a frail man with salt-and-pepper hair.
The happy reunion
Vinh excitedly squeezes his daughter’s shoulder and waves, a broad smile warming his face.
Ban Phan’s face is sunken with age. He is stooped and slight, but he’s gained weight since Vinh saw him in Thailand and is neatly dressed in a gray suit.
Father and son hug, and Kim shyly waves at her grandfather. Ban turns to his son, who nods: This is your granddaughter.
Ban Phan wraps the girl up in a hug. Pictures are snapped, then the family starts to make its way to the parking lot.
“He’s very happy to be in the United States,” says Nguyen, translating for Ban Phan. “He’s so happy to see his family.”
Ban Phan stops to pick up his luggage — a duffel bag and two lightly packed shopping bags — but is barely able to handle the load.
He waits only moments, however, before his son snatches the bags away.
Friday night, they eat as a family — father, mother, son, daughter-in-law, granddaughter and assorted friends.
Today, they start a new life that’s been 22 years in the making.
“I’m very happy my father is here,” Vinh Phan says as the family leaves the airport. “I’ve waited for so long. I never thought this would happen. I never thought I’d get him here.”
Staff writer Sean F. Driscoll can be reached at 815-987-1410 or sdriscoll@rrstar.com.
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SCOTT MORGAN | RRSTAR.COM
Vinh Phan (center left), his daughter Kim Phan, 9, and friend Phuc Nguyen wait at the international terminal at O’Hare International Airport in Chicago for Phan’s father Ban Phan to arrive Oct. 19 after spending 22 years in a Vietnamese prison for taking part in anti-communist activities.
Father is ‘very happy to be in the U.S.’
Oct 19, 2007 @ 11:59 PM
By Sean F. Driscoll
RRSTAR.COM
CHICAGO -Travelers swirl through the international terminal at O’Hare, darting through exits and squinting at signs. A cacophony of different languages floats through the air, accompanied by a jazz duo playing lightly in the background.
In the middle of the hubbub, Vinh Phan stands serenely, his hands clasped in front of him, a polite smile on his face. He doesn’t want to sit, preferring instead to stretch his legs after the car ride from his Rockford home.
It’s shortly after 3 p.m. Friday. American Airlines flight 154 is running early on its 11-hour, 6,000-mile journey from Tokyo. It carries his 70-year-old father, Ban Phan, freed earlier this year after 22 years in a Vietnamese prison camp.
“I’m so happy,” Vinh says, speaking softly in broken English. “I didn’t think this would ever happen. Now I can reunite my family.”
‘He didn’t know me’
The Phans’ story begins in 1975, when a 9-year-old Vinh saw his father, then a police officer for the South Vietnamese Army, sent to a “re-education” camp by leaders of Vietnam’s new communist regime.
Phan’s father was released in 1982, but remained watched. When Ban Phan joined an anti-communist movement, he was re-arrested in 1985.
Vinh Phan followed in his father’s footsteps, earning his own stint in prison before he escaped and fled to Thailand. He was arrested and imprisoned there, but he was eventually pardoned. He and his mother came to Rockford in 1994.
Since then, Vinh Phan has worked for his father’s release, petitioning the United States government for its political clout.
In May, Vietnamese President Triet Nguyen granted Ban Phan a pardon, citing his age and a desire to be reunited with his family, according to an Associated Press story.
Ban Phan was expelled from Vietnam and told never to return. He went to Thailand, eventually seeing his son there. It was their first meeting in more than two decades.
“When I went to Thailand, he didn’t know me,” Vinh Phan said. Now 42, his face is finely lined from his own prison hardships and years of worrying for his father. “He was skinny. He looked like he was tired.”
Ban Phan had more challenges. The United States denied him entry into the country, believing he had tortured anti-communists while working as a police officer.
After months of petitioning the government with the help of Legal Assistance for Vietnamese Asylum Seekers, the United States granted him one year’s stay in the country.
Vinh Phan found out this week his father would be coming home. He now has a year to figure out how to keep him here.
“I don’t know what I’ll do,” Vinh Phan said. “… I lost 22 years. Now I don’t want to let him go.”
Waiting
Vinh is still standing in the terminal when his friend, Phuc Nguyen, sees on the arrival board that American 154 has landed.
At the designated area, Vinh; his 9-year-old daughter, Kim; Nguyen; and Vinh’s father-in-law, Tham Le, wait anxiously.
Every few seconds, a knot of travelers walk through smoky glass doors separating the public from customs. Vinh scans every face, then peers through the doors. He stands at the front of a cordoned-off area near the arrival door, one of dozens awaiting a loved one.
Minutes tick by. Kim tries to be still, but her 9-year-old sensibilities take over. She wanders away from her dad, gliding around the terminal on her heelies, sneakers with roller skate wheels in the heel.
“She only knows she’s meeting her grandfather,” Vinh says. “She doesn’t know the rest.”
More waiting. Vinh stands on his tiptoes, peering across the crowds. It’s been an hour since American 154 hit the tarmac. For the first time, anxiety crawls across his face.
“I’m getting worried,” he says. “I don’t understand what’s taking so long.”
Now Vinh can’t be still.
He goes to a Transportation Security Administration employee, asking for help. He moves to the outside of the rope line, subconsciously creeping toward the door.
An hour and a half after his father’s plane lands, he learns it can take up to two hours for non-U.S. citizens to clear customs.
Vinh relaxes a notch and checks the time.
Then he spots a frail man with salt-and-pepper hair.
The happy reunion
Vinh excitedly squeezes his daughter’s shoulder and waves, a broad smile warming his face.
Ban Phan’s face is sunken with age. He is stooped and slight, but he’s gained weight since Vinh saw him in Thailand and is neatly dressed in a gray suit.
Father and son hug, and Kim shyly waves at her grandfather. Ban turns to his son, who nods: This is your granddaughter.
Ban Phan wraps the girl up in a hug. Pictures are snapped, then the family starts to make its way to the parking lot.
“He’s very happy to be in the United States,” says Nguyen, translating for Ban Phan. “He’s so happy to see his family.”
Ban Phan stops to pick up his luggage — a duffel bag and two lightly packed shopping bags — but is barely able to handle the load.
He waits only moments, however, before his son snatches the bags away.
Friday night, they eat as a family — father, mother, son, daughter-in-law, granddaughter and assorted friends.
Today, they start a new life that’s been 22 years in the making.
“I’m very happy my father is here,” Vinh Phan says as the family leaves the airport. “I’ve waited for so long. I never thought this would happen. I never thought I’d get him here.”
Staff writer Sean F. Driscoll can be reached at 815-987-1410 or sdriscoll@rrstar.com.
SCOTT MORGAN | RRSTAR.COM
Vinh Phan and his daughter Kim Phan, 9, talk to officials Oct. 19 at the international terminal at O’Hare International Airport in Chicago as they inquire about Ban Phan’s arrival to the United States after spending 22 years in a Vietnamese prison for taking part in anti-communist activities.
SCOTT MORGAN | RRSTAR.COM
Vinh Phan (right) and his daughter Kim Phan, 9, have their picture taken Oct. 19 with Phan’s father, Ban Phan, by friend Phuc Nguyen after the elder Phan’s arrival in the United States after spending 22 years in a Vietnamese prison for taking part in anti-communist activities.
SCOTT MORGAN | RRSTAR.COM
Vinh Phan (center) watches as his father Ban Phan (right) leans in to hug his granddaughter Kim Phan, 9, as he meets her for the first time Oct. 19 after his arrival to the United States after spending 22 years in a Vietnamese prison for taking part in anti-communist activities.
HCM City’s cinemas ban children for the first time
October 21, 2007
HCM City’s cinemas ban children for the first time | ||
17:24′ 19/10/2007 (GMT+7) | ||
VietNamNet Bridge – Today some cinemas in HCM City will introduce a US action film titled “Shoot’em up”, which is not for audiences of 16 years old and younger.
This is the first time cinemas in Vietnam have introduced a film that is not for children of less than 16 years old. According to the Vietnam Cinema Administration, this film has some scenes of violence that are not suitable for children.
However, some worry that as cinemas hang banners advertising this films with the words “Not for children of less than 16” children will be more curious to watch this film and this will also help speed up sales of illegal copies of this film.
This is the first test of cinemas controlling audiences based on their age.
If Shoot’em up is the first foreign film that is not for children of less than 16, Ms. Muoi will be the first domestic film with an age restriction.
Ms. Muoi will go to cinemas on December 12 and its advertising banners will also have “not for children of less than 16”.
The Vietnam Cinema Administration has recently introduced a draft regulation on film censorship, in which films are divided into two kinds: for audiences of over and under 16 years old.
The administration will collect opinions from film producers, experts, and related agencies about the draft regulation.
Some worry that if films are classified based on age, viewers will have to present ID cards at cinemas.
However, some film producers and directors support the draft regulation, and say that it is no problem to submit ID cards at cinemas and some countries do the same thing.
(Source: TP) |
The return of Vietnam War films
October 21, 2007
The everyday hat
October 10, 2007
The everyday hat | ||
09:08′ 09/10/2007 (GMT+7) | ||
VietNamNet Bridge – The popularity of conical hats from Chuong craft village has made ‘non Chuong’ virtually a brandname in Vietnam. Duc Hanh explains the power behind Vietnam’s most recognizable hat. I had pictured craftsmen sewing conical hats inside brown tile-roofed houses in Chuong village, where thousands of conical hats (non la – literally leaf hat) are produced daily, meaning it’s considered the home of the conical hat in today’s Vietnam. But I hadn’t expected a main thoroughfare lined with multi-storey houses and shops flogging electric equipment, the latest fashions and canned food. However amongst these symbols of progress and modernism, I see a smattering of conical hats on the heads of old women chewing betel nuts and young girls, all dressed in pink blouses, sitting around gossiping. Away from the bustling market, in a more tranquil part of the village, I discover the engine room of conical hat production. A man in shorts and a T-shirt carries a pile of leaves towards a girl, who turns the leaves over in the sun. These leaves will be plaited through a bamboo frame to make a conical hat. Further along the dyke, an old woman is supervising her nephews who are sewing hats. Looking at her crooked back, wrinkled face and shriveled hands, it’s hard to imagine that she can hold her hands steady enough to do the needlework, but she manages ably. “My mother taught me to sew non la when I was six years old. Now that I’m 78 I could sew hats with my eyes closed,” says Tam with a wide smile that reveals more than a few missing teeth. It takes an hour to sew a normal non la, one that might be used by a farmer in the field, but it can take all day long to make a more fanciful one. During summer the whole village seems to have their heads down. Raw materials are stacked high. Fresh hats sit in piles. The average income is around VND15,000-25,000 a day per household. The wholesale price is VND3,500- VND10,000 a hat. In Hanoi a hat might cost VND30,000 to VND100,000 depending on the quality. Improved transportation and telecommunication services mean that Chuong is a ceaseless production chain catering for customers the length and breadth of Vietnam. In total Chuong village produces 7,000 to 8,000 conical hats a day and about three million hats a year for Vietnam and for export. “Our regular clients from the south, the centre or other northern provinces phone in orders so we can deliver immediately,” said Tuy, a 40-year old craftsman. “My latest contract is signed with a handicrafts export company to export 5,000 Vietnamese conical hats to Japan.” “We’re very skillful with our hands. We have to sew smooth and regular stitches as well as hide the knots at the end of the strand,” says Tran Hung, one of the village’s craftsmen. Conical hats must be as durable as they are light. Each one is made with a frame of 16 bamboo rings. It should shade but not cover the face. To represent Vietnamese heritage at the APEC 14 held late last year, Chuong craftsmen from Hung Vuong workshop spent 15 days creating a hat which had a 1.5m diameter, stood 3.6m high and weighed in at 15kg. There are hundreds of other kinds of non la in Vietnam. You could fill a museum with samples from each ethnic minority through the country. But each one is made from palm leaves, bamboo string or thread. According to historian Le Van Lan, the Vietnamese people have donned the conical hat for a long time. The ancestor of today’s non was carved on a Ngoc Lu kettledrum and Ao Thinh bronze jar 2,500 to 3000 years ago. “Though no one knows exactly when the hat was born, for a long time the conical hat has been considered the symbol of Vietnamese farmers and Vietnamese people, in general,” says Lan. “It is easy to wear, easy to find the materials and easy to make, it’s also cheap and durable. And it is suitable with the scorching hot, continuous rainy and wet climate of Vietnam.” “Besides sheltering you from rain and sun, it can be used as fan when you are hot, as a water ladle when you are thirsty, as a basket when you go to market without bag, and it’s very charming when a girl uses it to hide her awkward face!” It is also an iconic symbol artists and even fashion designers cannot ignore. “I use the conical hat as a traditional material to reflect modern life. For me, the conical hat is a symbol of Vietnamese women who are graceful and tender but also steadfast. The hat is very light and thin but it can confront nature,” says designer Minh Hanh. While Hue-based artist Dinh Khac Thinh, who created an installation of 5,000 conical hats which was showcased at the Hue festival in 2006, wanted to honour the humble craftsmen who produce the hats day to day. “Installation art pieces are all about viewing and touching. Besides creating an artwork, I wanted to highlight a cultural value and honour the skillful hands of craftsmen as well as present an opportunity for them to introduce their products to the world,” says Thinh. At the same festival fellow artist Le Thua Tien also created an installation piece of one huge conical hat made out of 400 normal ones. The legend behind the hat is that once upon a time there was a very tall woman who often wore a magical kind of hat made from four round leaves knitted together with bamboo. Her hat was as large as the sky itself. This kind-hearted woman always appeared to shelter people caught in heavy rain. Wherever she appeared clouds passed and the weather became favourable. She also taught people to plant vegetables and trees to live. Then one day she passed and ascended to the heavens but she was honoured as the Goddess of Human Defence and ever since they have made hats in the shape of hers to protect themselves from the sun and the rain. This hat became know as the non la (conical hat). (Source: Timeout) |