As we returned home and night had fallen on the village, we arrived at a house full of guests. Friends and family visited back and forth from house to house, having a beer or maybe some tea. In every home you entered you were to light a stick of incense say a prayer and place it in the ancestral urn. The altars were adorned with gifts and decorations not unlike what I had seen in the forest. Such was the custom, and I obliged with much reverence. I met a lot of family and friends and enjoyed tea and a couple of beers with the inhabitants of the village. Everyone is always happy to meet me and as hospitable as any people I’ve ever interacted with. It was a calm, somber kind of scene. People were smiling and happy to see each other, but it had a bit of a subdued air to it as if to maintain respect for the occasion. 
This was a day for the country to rest, remember their lost loved ones, and honor their ancestors. It was also the day to grow older. One of the interesting things about this day was that it was everyone’s birthday. No, not everyone was born on Lunar New Year, but in this culture, it’s when you celebrate your birthday. That was partly why you gave out the envelopes of money. It made sense as the whole country seemed to descend on their hometowns for the event. It was a mandated holiday and the government went so far as to import workers from Europe and beyond to keep its essential services in operation. It explained the French, Turkish, and other nationalities operating the flights I had taken internally in Vietnam.
I eventually found myself at the marble table in the front of the property with a little girl named Xù. She was an adorable little girl of 4. and we sat playing a game of cat and mouse with her sucker. I would try to take it and she would break out into loud giggles as she triumphantly thwarted my efforts. As people would come and sit down and take my attention, I would find her crawling quietly across the table, slightly tapping her sucker as if to entice me to continue playing. I start up the game again and it went on until it was time to eat the sucker and she handed it to me to open. 
Once she was enjoying her candy, she ran off to get her envelopes. She came back to the table to display her prizes from the day to everyone sitting there. I asked her if I could have one, not expecting any action or response, she turned to me flipped through her envelopes, and handed me one while in the clearest English, said, “Here you go”. I was completely surprised and looked at my company as an uproar of laughter broke the quiet night. I looked in the envelope, and it was empty—quite a sense of humor in that little one. I was very comforted to know that the fun and innocence of childhood isn’t lost even in the countryside of this developing nation. It was a heartwarming and beautiful moment sitting on that porch in the cool jungle breeze with a little girl named Xù.
