It’s happened three times now since our arrival in Saigon. It’s 6am, morning light is streaming in through the balcony door, and all of a sudden I’m awoken to the blaring sounds of drums and trumpets.  ”What the hell is that?” I bark to my sleeping roommates. I get up just in time to see the end of a funeral procession going down our street. “Next time I’ll film it, because despite the ungodly hour, that was pretty cool”, I think to myself. But when next time comes, it’s 6am once again and I can’t wake up and grab the camera fast enough. “FUCK!” I scream in exasperation. But the third time is a charm. I hear the first notes of that band (which I swear fires the music up directly in front of where we live) and I’m up in a flash. Pants? Not worried about them. Because I’ve finally got a shot of a funeral procession making its way down Bui Vien!

Vietnamese funerals are much different than your traditional North American ones. Relatives, friends, and descendants take part in the funeral procession to accompany the dead along the way to the burial ground. Votive papers are dropped along the way. Selected members, usually the youngest direct descendants, carry either incense, flowers, or the picture of the Buddha.