The Nguyen kids are going on vacation! It’s their first time in Vietnam and staying in Grandma Nội’s childhood home, so they should be excited. As soon as they enter the house, though, something doesn’t feel right. Why is the door to the ancestors’ room always closed? And why can’t they connect with Grandma Nội using their gifts, the way they can at home?

The Night Market is here again, and all one girl needs is a bag of gold coins to enter. The market is alive with the sound of hawkers and traders. “A taste of tangy sweetness!” hollers a man behind a towering fountain of lemonade. “I’ll trade you a joke for a coin,” a little boy calls. “Home grown spices!” shouts a granny at a counter. What should the girl buy? But, wait! Do you hear that? It's the sound of an old African drum. Have a turn, then learn to make cards disappear when you shout Abracadabra!

Salam's grandpa says that olive trees are strong and that their roots run deep in their Palestinian land. They connect everyone—from the farmer who presses the olives into oil to the baker who uses the oil in his taboon. Salam plants her own seed and is eager to see it grow. She waits... she waters... she asks the seed to hurry... until finally...a sprout! But one day soldiers come and destroy everything in their path...including Salam's new olive tree. Salam is crushed—though she doesn't have to worry. Her grandpa gathers their neighbors and, together, they plant olive trees.

Growing up, Jung-soon spent every moment she could at her grandparents' house. Dressing up and watching cartoons. Dyeing each other's fingernails with crushed balsam petals. Getting the whole neighborhood together to sweep their streets. Falling asleep together...just the three of them, happy. Grandfather was Grandmother's best and only friend. On every Jesa day, during the ancestral ritual, he would gently place the okchundang candy in her mouth, a big smile spreading across her face as it melted on her tongue.