It sounds like a brass band is playing inside our room. The horn section is so eye-poppingly loud that the musicians could very well be hiding in our mini fridge, or playing from the shower stall. A flick of the curtains reveals a band on the alley side of our hotel, directly below us.
Thinking the group is tuning up to perform at the food festival, I run outside to get pictures of them before they leave. In bare feet, I descend the steps two at a time. Outside, I make a quick left into a maze of alleyways—there are several different paths from which to choose, and I wind up doubling back several times until I find the one where the band is playing.
Looking up, I wave to Tara who is recording the band from our hotel room window. (The acoustics were horrible from her vantage point, I think the distance and echoing makes it sound like they weren't playing in time with one another, but they were.)
Rest in peace unknown Vietnamese grandmother! Or rather, enjoy the celebration—what a send-off!