Phan Rang

Phan Rang is an agricultural community, and whereas Catholicism is the main religion in Da Lat as apparent by the cluster of churches, Phan Rang contains a lot of Buddhist residents. Temples line both sides of the road as we drive in to pay a visit to Tung's grandma's relatives, and to drop Anh Tinh back home. The few paved roads are cracked and pot-holed from the abuse of large shipping trucks driving on them. Rice paddies with young green shoots lay seeped in muddy brown water, marked off by even squares like a checkerboard landscape.

Most houses are developed enough to look modern instead of the thatch-roof houses I was expecting to see. Anh Tinh's house has electricity, a ceiling fan in the sitting room, tiled floors inside and out, and a hammock strung to one side to catch the breeze from the fan and from outside.

Phan Rang is hot, but very tolerable and even cool in the afternoons because of the constant breeze. At around 3:30PM, the goats are herded home in flocks; at 4:00PM, the sheep come home, bleating and marked off by blue dye on their fleece.

Cows roam near the houses, chewing their cud and munching grass, the protective mothers nipping at the family dog that comes near to play with the calves. The idyllic scene is quiet and peaceful, the hazy, slow-going day's time marked by repetitive farm chores.

Earlier, we visited the graveyard, where a swarm of local kids followed us to the three graves of Tung's maternal great-grandparents.

They put bricks down on mud-seeped paths for us to step on, the older ones making a show out of telling the younger ones to shut up and stop singing for our prayer session. The gang of kids then escorted us back to the car, and as we neared, they started screaming for us to give them money out of charity. We could easily get swarmed by the whole horde if we so much as reached for our wallets, so we hurriedly drove off while they whipped the car with bamboo switches.