Returning to Quảng Nam

The trip began on a sleeper bus with private bunks. In the past, a long-distance bus meant curling up your legs and bumping into another passenger or your luggage whenever you turned. Now it is quite different: your own space, room to stretch out, a curtain to draw and the thought:

That sounds poetic. In reality, how much you sleep depends on potholes, the driver braking, your phone vibrating and whether you can put it down. 😄

Yet that slow way of traveling has its own charm. The city gradually falls behind, the lights thin out, and the feeling that “I am going home” grows stronger.

One of my favorite moments of the trip was a morning by the sea. The coconut trees stood in silhouette against a cloudy sky, with the sun just rising in the distance. Golden light stretched across the water, passed through the fronds and fell on the sand.

Some places invite you to take a beautiful photo. Home is different. A row of palms, the sound of waves or the salt in the breeze can bring back a whole world of memories. That morning I stood there longer than usual, not waiting for the right angle, but enjoying the peace.

In that moment, the living stand before those who have passed away. Few words are needed. A single stick of incense says a great deal.

Siblings meet. Aunts and uncles ask after one another. People who normally speak only by phone stand together again. Stories about grandparents and earlier times are told to the next generation. Perhaps that is how a family’s memory travels onward.

After Chạp Mả came the remembrance meal for Grandpa Bom. For a Vietnamese family, a death anniversary has a meaning all its own.

There may be more people, more dishes and more laughter than on an ordinary day. At the heart of it all, however, is remembrance of the person who has died.

An anniversary is therefore not only sad. It is a reunion. Descendants return, prepare food together, light incense, sit down to eat and retell family stories.

Some stories have been heard many times, yet everyone still laughs when they are told each year. Other memories need only a name before an elder can tell a whole new chapter. In this warm way, those who have gone remain present in family life.

One especially Quảng Nam experience was visiting the local seafood market. Baskets of squid, fresh off the boats, sat right on the market floor. Buyers and sellers gathered around; questions about prices, calls to one another and the knock of plastic tubs made the lively atmosphere unmistakably coastal.

From the sea to the dinner table can be just a few hundred meters. 😄 No “fresh seafood” sign is necessary; one look at the squid tells you.

If Chạp Mả is a time to look back at earlier generations, celebrating my older brother’s new home is a story about looking forward.

A new house in the family is always a happy milestone. It is more than new walls, a new roof or new furniture. Behind it are many days of work, planning, saving and waiting.

So gathering at the new house means something lovely: celebrating an achievement and wishing the family well in a new chapter.

A house is happiest when it is full of people. Red plastic chairs filled the yard. Family members hurried in and out. Someone outside asked, “Is there a table without beer yet?” A few minutes later, there was no need to ask. 😂

After the solemn rites, everyone sat down together. A family feast in the countryside has a joy of its own. No fancy restaurant, dress code or online booking. Just family gathered around, good food and stories that never run out.

Chicken, seafood, vegetables, rice paper and dipping sauces kept appearing on the table. And, of course, there was beer.

After the gatherings, I had time to return to the beach. The Quảng Nam sky was a beautiful blue that day. Small clouds stretched overhead and many fishing boats lay at anchor offshore.

The beach did not have the polished look of a resort. That is precisely what I liked. It was real.

Life here seemed to move at its own pace, regardless of how rushed everyone elsewhere might be.

I took the sleeper bus there. For the trip back, I upgraded the speed: a plane. 😄

One journey meant lying down through the night and slowly getting closer to home. On the other, after only a short time in the sky, the city appeared below. The two very different modes of travel made fitting bookends for the trip.