Listen, I was once the most aggressive honker I knew. Tam’s favorite story of me is honking the horn at someone who cut us off… when he was driving. I’ve sinced learned that I could never be as aggressive as the driver Uncle Dad hired for our trip back to their hometown.

We woke up early and were picked up by a man with slicked back hair wearing a loose-fitting collared shirt. Jesse laughed because the driver was singing to Cantonese music that he grew up listening to. This man was honking aggressively at 8am in the morning just to take us to breakfast. If there were potholes, I wouldn’t know it since we flew over them.

This honking would continue during the 2-hour drive to Kiến Tường/Mộc Hóa. I truly thought I could sleep on the way to the hometown, but the erratic honking and stop and brake pattern drive would keep me in a half sleep for the entire drive. He honked at mopeds to get out of his way. He honked at approaching cars on the two-lane road. I’m more curious about what he didn’t honk at. I have since ceded my aggressive honker title to this man.

Kiến Tường and is a town on the border of Vietnam and Cambodia. Tam tells me people are more likely to know the area of Mộc Hóa, or the province of Long An. It’s that small of a town. Uncle Dad fled Cambodia from the Khmer Rouge and ended up here, where he eventually met Auntie Mom at the post office. I’m told she didn’t want to date him because he was a player, but he won her over anyway.

When you enter the town, there is a single stoplight where the road forks. We stayed right on the fork and continued down the two-lane road. Our family’s house was on the right. The house had a metal gate, rusted from disuse. There was another gate that could seal the garage, where two mopeds were parked. Along the wall was a shrine to Tam’s grandparents, and a collection of tables, chairs, and other supplies gathered over the years. There was also a picture of Tam in kindergarten in one of the glass-panes of an armoire.

At this time, I met a few of Tam’s aunties for the second time. We had met the first night in Saigon, but this time we were visiting at their house.

Once you entered the door, there was a pale blue room with a bed on the left. There was a hammock I’d next to the bed, and at its foot, Tam’s grandpa’s chair. On the right was the fridge, an AC wall unit, some cabinets, a table. Along all of the walls were pictures of various family members: Tam’s aunties, cousins, grandparents. Everyone was here, and we’d hang out here when the heat was the harshest. At the back of this room was another door to the kitchen.

The kitchen took up the last third of the house on the ground floor. In the back corner were two bathrooms. On the right were cabinets, the stove, a sink, and a fridge. On the left was another sink, and the place where they kept the produce, plates, and other things… All tucked next to the stairs. The floor tiles were white, with a green or red pattern on it. The ceiling in this room was tall, likely to allow the heat from this room to escape.

The room above the garage was another space that had a shrine. The shrines here included Tam‘s grandparents, as well as the relatives and ancestors from both sides of the family. The room next to it was once a bedroom, now a storage. There was another smaller room, also used as storage, and then above the kitchen was a bedroom. This is where Auntie Mom, Uncle Dad, Jesse, and Nancy would be staying.

After introducing ourselves and greeting everyone, Tam and I were taken to our hotel by moped. We rode down the same two-lane road, back to the intersection, and took the other road. We turned left immediately, passed a park on the right, and pulled into a building with a large open lot at the front. Other people were staying here too, we saw their long tour buses and vans parked out front.

The building felt like a school. When we entered the building, we were greeted by bright white tiles, sterile white walls, with a blue grey trim as an accent. The receptionist desk on our right looked more like a security center than a reception, and its carved caramel wood felt out of place here. She gave us the keys and we headed upstairs. There was a single hallway that stretched from wall to wall and windows on each end. Tam opened the flimsy door, and we entered our room.

On our left was a wooden cabinet and on our right was the bathroom. There were two thin beds lined against the wall, a small TV, and two tall windows with slats at the other end of the room. It was spacious. Tam suggested to his dad that we get a hotel since we all couldn’t fit in the room… And I also pee a lot at night.

The bathrooms in Vietnamese homes are different from the US. The entire room has bathroom tiles, and there’s a drain in the floor. If you just needed to use the bathroom, you’d use it like a typical bathroom. In and out, and wash your hands in the sink. Make sure you close the lid before you flush. If you wanted to shower, it’s the same room. Lock the door, turn the shower head on, and do your business. This was the kind of bathroom we had in the hotel, so it was imperative we used shower slippers here.

After resting for a bit, we headed back to the house. Nancy was going to get her hair done, and Uncle Dad said that we should have our hair washed. They took us one by one to the salon so we could get our hair done. Let me tell you, I have never had anyone aggressively massage and scrub my head as well as they did that day. Maintaining curly hair in humidity is tough, and with all the activity and sweating we did, I felt like there was a ton of build-up in my hair. This was so thoroughly relaxing, especially since they also put a face mask on me. Tam and Jesse got their hair washed and masks done too. I’ve been researching where I could do it in the US since.

We headed back to the house and ate with everyone there. We also got a visit from Tam’s cousin, Ben, who’s about 15. Tam last saw him 10 years ago, and he often joked that Ben could have been his son. They looked really alike. Uncle Dad was nowhere to be seen. I can’t remember if we ate with him or he left after we came back. More on that later.

After dinner, we walked a few blocks past our hotel to another home. This place was the home of Auntie Mom’s aunties, sisters of her mom. It would be the first time they were meeting Jesse and me, and the first time they’d see Tam and Nancy in years. They were so happy to see us and said as much to Tam and his family. Uncle Dad would join us here, very drunk from hanging with his friends. The Aunties would tell him that he should be so proud of what he’s accomplished and of his kids… At least, I think that’s what they told him. He teared up and seemed happy, so I can only assume it was good things.

After the visit, we walked back with the family. The main streets were lit by orange streetlights, only the smaller side roads were without light. There were almost no cars on the road, and the mopeds were far and few. There was activity on the first floors of shops and homes, people congregating at the end of the day with their families and friends. We all laughed at how drunk Uncle Dad was with his stiff gait. He was just with his friends an hour ago, likely doing the same thing. We also passed this really bright light fixture, and its fluorescence seemed so out of place in this sleepy town. It reminded me of when I would chaotically decorate my Animal Crossing town with some really unusual furniture during the pandemic.

We passed the park, now dark. A drunk man was calling out to us from behind, and Uncle Dad sobered up really quick. He seemed aggressive, but we stayed together and headed to the hotel, and he found something else to occupy himself walking past the street we turned down. In that moment, I wonder what kinds of spirits shared the streets with the living… But that’s a question for another time, with answers I may never get.

Our flimsy room door was no shield against our neighbors’ chatter, so we watched TV until we fell asleep. Today was a good day. Tomorrow was going to be longer, but hopefully just as good.