Vietnamese Lunar New Year

The streets of Ho Chi Minh City were alive, humming with an energy unique to this time of year. Lanterns in hues of red and gold swayed gently above the bustling market stalls. Vendors shouted their prices over the melodic hum of traditional Vietnamese music, while the air carried the scent of incense mingled with fresh kumquat trees and steaming bowls of pho. Everywhere Mai looked, there was a sense of anticipation, as though the city itself was holding its breath for the arrival of something sacred.

It was nearly time for Têt Nguyên Đán—Vietnamese Lunar New Year. For Mai, Tết was more than just the transition from one year to the next. It was a deeply rooted celebration of family, tradition, and hope.

The days leading up to Têt were always a whirlwind. In Mai’s household, it began with a thorough cleaning of every corner of their home. “Sweep away the bad luck of the old year,” her mother would say, her sleeves rolled up as she scrubbed the kitchen tiles. Mai joined in, dusting the family’s ancestral altar, careful not to disturb the offerings already prepared: plates of candied fruits, bowls of fragrant rice, and cups of green tea.

“This is for our ancestors,” her grandmother explained, her voice tinged with reverence. “They’ll guide us in the year to come if we honor them properly.”

Mai had always been fascinated by this connection to the past. The ancestral altar was adorned with photographs of relatives who had passed away, their faces serene and wise. Incense sticks burned steadily, their smoke curling upwards like whispers to the heavens. It was through these traditions that Mai felt anchored, a part of something much larger than herself.

On the eve of Tết, the entire family gathered. The kitchen became a hive of activity as they prepared bánh chưng, square rice cakes wrapped in green banana leaves. Mai’s father explained that the cake’s shape symbolized the earth, while its ingredients—sticky rice, pork, and mung beans—represented harmony and prosperity. They worked together, folding the leaves carefully, tying them with bamboo strings, and boiling the cakes in a large pot that steamed for hours. The aroma filled the house, warm and comforting.

“Tết is about balance,” her father said as he adjusted the strings on a nearly perfect bánh chưng. “It’s a time to reflect on the past year, to let go of what’s been difficult, and to prepare ourselves for what lies ahead.”

As night fell, the family gathered around the table for the traditional New Year’s Eve meal. It was a feast unlike any other, with dishes carefully chosen for their symbolism: boiled chicken for prosperity, sticky rice for unity, and pickled vegetables to signify a fresh start. They ate together, sharing stories and laughter, the weight of the past year melting away with each bite.

When the clock struck midnight, the city erupted in celebration. Fireworks lit up the sky, their brilliant colors reflected in Mai’s wide eyes. The sound of drums and cymbals filled the air as lion dancers paraded through the streets, their movements both playful and powerful. Mai watched in awe, her heart swelling with a mixture of joy and hope.

The first day of Tết was the most important. Dressed in her new ao dai, a traditional Vietnamese dress, Mai joined her family in offering the first incense of the year at the ancestral altar. Her grandmother murmured a prayer, her hands clasped in front of her chest, asking for health, happiness, and success for the family. Mai followed suit, feeling the weight of the moment. It was as if her wishes were carried upward with the smoke, joining countless others in the collective hope for a better year.

Later, they visited relatives, exchanging warm greetings and giving out lì xì, red envelopes filled with lucky money. Mai’s younger cousins squealed with delight as they received their envelopes, bowing politely to the elders in gratitude. In return, the elders offered blessings: “May you grow wise and strong. May this year bring you great fortune.”

As the day wore on, the streets filled with laughter and music. Temples welcomed streams of visitors, each carrying offerings and lighting incense sticks. Children played games, their laughter mingling with the distant sounds of gongs. The festive atmosphere was contagious, spreading warmth even to strangers passing by.

For Mai, the true essence of Tết lay in its ability to bring people together. It was a time when old grievances were set aside, when family ties were reaffirmed, and when everyone—young and old—paused to reflect on what truly mattered. It was a celebration of renewal, not just for individuals but for the entire community.

As the sun set on the first day of the new year, Mai sat with her family beneath the glow of lanterns, sipping tea and sharing stories of their hopes for the future. In that moment, she understood the deeper meaning of Tết Nguyên Đán. It was a time to honor the past, embrace the present, and look forward to the possibilities of tomorrow. And as the laughter of her family filled the air, Mai felt a profound sense of belonging, knowing she was part of something timeless and enduring.