I was rocked awake by what seemed like a massive explosion right outside my bedroom window. As my mind recoiled back from the land of slumber, it began firing on all cylinders cataloging possibilities and scenarios. A second explosion shook me even more, and then reality finally coalesced in my thoughts. We had headed back to the homestead after the beer mouse incident and I had fallen asleep in my mosquito net avoiding the late afternoon heat. I had slept well past dusk, and the New Year’s celebration was in full swing. I stumbled out of the room and outside. Fireworks were exploding everywhere. Clandestine shows put on by almost every home in the village.
It was a vision reminiscent of the river scene in Apocalypse Now. Flare like fireworks momentarily lighting the jungle then fading back into darkness. They were so close at times it was a bit unnerving. Imagine your in the jungle and Stone Mountain’s fireworks show is going off just above the tree line above your head and everywhere, lasting for hours. It was absolutely insane, that’s all I can say. I saw people running through the streets with fireworks tied to strings and spinning them around their bodies sending sparks in a circular pattern 30 feet from their center. 
Safety was not on the agenda today, and one of the fire spark spinners had a giant cherry bomb sized explosive go off mere inches from him, and he dropped the spark spinner grabbed his bare chest, and kneeled to the ground for quite an amount of time. I had had a few thrown my way, and I could feel the concussion against my heel as one exploded behind me. Headed initially out down the street Ba had changed his mind and decided it was best for us to enjoy the festivities from the safety of the property. I couldn’t have agreed more. We sat in the safety of the covered front area at the marbled table and bench and had some coffee.
Things slowly began to calm down as it approached midnight, and a small group came through with a dragon and monkey parade. They came in, circled the house’s interior, and then headed back out to patrol the streets. As the night drew to a close, the grandson of Ba, Quân, offered to walk with me through the town. Many of the homes were decorated for New Year with Christmas-style lights and beautiful yellow flowers in their clay pots. I had seen them sold everywhere in Hanoi and Da Nang, and now I knew why. Every house here, no matter what their status, had one in the front of their home. I assumed the scene was the same across the country.
We made our way to the parade ground but missed the roasted pigs. I didn’t know they had them cooking until some of Diem’s brothers and cousins showed me pictures of the beautiful opened hogs spinning on the fire. It was a shame I missed it, but I hadn’t missed much here, and this place has been great for my blood pressure. It’s difficult to get upset about anything in paradise. We stood around the fire that earlier hosted the swine and listened to the last of the party attendees sing karaoke in the middle of the parade field at 12:30 in the morning. Chúc Mừng Năm Mới! Happy New Year!
