Part of the family: My first Tet as an honorary "Con Dâu."

Part of the family: My first Tet as an honorary "Con Dâu."

Tet holiday is a traditional new year celebration which is observed every year on the first day of the lunar calendar, typically falling in late January or early February. It is the most widely celebrated festival in Vietnam and an event that is centred very heavily on bringing family together and welcoming in good luck for the next lunar year.

As this was the second time spent with my partner during this time, and the first that I had spent in Vietnam for Tet, it was expected that we celebrate the lunar new year traditions of his family. As the day neared, I felt honoured to experience the event within a Vietnamese family.

Year of the Rooster family dinner, wine and spring rolls galore with Trong's parents and his sister's family.

During the past year, family friends of in my 'future in-laws' and my colleagues had jokingly called me "Con Dâu Tây," which was a play on words which consisted of melding the words "daughter in-law" and "Western," which, mixed together, translate to "Strawberry." 

An's haggling skills are second to none and a street market essential

I jumped at the chance to go through the preparations involved in the new year celebrations, consulting my future mother in law, An, about the right kind of peach flower branch I should buy, the best kumquat tree to decorate the house with and the amount of lucky money I should prepare for young relatives in the coming days. 


As humbled as I felt to be able to enjoy this new celebration (or rather, one that I had only ever observed as an 'outsider,') I also felt a hint of trepidation about the sheer volume of family members I was going to meet and greet throughout the day. 

Preparing auspicious fruit, sticky rice cakes and lucky money.

The previous night was spent watching a famous live comedy show (Táo Quân, which is aired annually on the last night of the year), and eating a selection of dried and candied fruits in my in-laws house. Though I couldn't really understand a lot, or really any of the jokes that were not physical-comedy or, weirdly, hemorrhoid-related, my boyfriend and his parents seemed to enjoy the show. At about 11pm, the two of us took the motorbike to join the hoards of youngsters meeting friends out in the shimmering glitter-lined streets to welcome in midnight, some opportunistic teens having already shot their paper glitter cannons ahead of schedule.





This year fireworks had been banned in the city centre, following a local government initiative to prevent too many injuries amongst overly-zealous and under-cautious locals who take their home fireworks game too seriously. At the stroke of midnight, some rogue fireworks still lined the horizon as we watched from a rooftop bar overlooking Hoan Kiem lake, the whole affair a tad underwhelming in comparison with recent years.


Driving home again, past cheering locals chanting "Chuc Mung Nam Moi" crowded on plastic stools that lined the streets, it was easy to feel like a part of the spirit of Tet. We greeted my partner's parents once more to officially wish them a happy new year, and for me to receive the first of many "I hope you have a baby soon" comments of 2017.

Green tea, green bean cakes and candied fruits.

Being the first to cross the threshold of the house after midnight is also another tradition that we observed, with your chosen 'first guests' determining the luck you'll receive in the new year.
This year the honour was given to me as I sashayed through the front door of our apartment, full of sticky rice cake and candied fruit and ready for bed.



The next morning we donned our finest threads and were off to visit the first of many relatives, Trong's maternal grandfather.
On the first day of the year, it's customary for Vietnamese families to visit their extended family in order of age, typically beginning from grandparents and then eldest brothers and sisters and so on. 

Ong Ngoai poses for the camera with us in front of his late wife's memorial shrine, wearing his best suit.

Posing for new yearly photos and sharing stories about old ones in an old French-inspired apartment, Ong Ngoai fussed over us and ensured we had plenty of green tea and candy. 

Carefully labelled and organised photos are shared.

Pretty soon I was the centre of attention, feeling the pressure of having to try and extend my rudimentary Vietnamese among the growing number of uncles, aunties and family members coming in an out throughout the hour. To each, we wish a happy new year and I tried desperately to remember the names of nephews and nieces I had not yet met, whilst observing the correct pronouns (the list of ways to say "you" and "I" in Vietnamese is exhaustive and a constant source of anxiety for me in day-to-day conversation).


I wondered how "demure" I should present myself to be among these new acquaintances, but after a full morning of signature Vietnamese hospitality and a full serving of sticky rice cake, I was feeling confident to be myself, cracking jokes and tickling kids who dared to wander close to the "Tây," squealing and feigning fright for the scary "Aunty" and doing it all over again. 

A red li-xi packet is prepared for the next set of nephews

We visited four more houses and four more sets of relatives throughout the rest of the afternoon, on arrival in each house we are greeted with green tea, fresh and dried candied fruit, nuts and other sweets. These auspicious treats bring good luck and in the old days, were a rare luxury. 

For the children, we provided red envelopes containing lucky money (li xi) which are given from parents, uncles and aunts, older relatives and close family friends to children of schooling age. The amount of money can vary from 20,000vnd ($1 US) for acquaintances and neighbours to 500,000vnd ($20 US) for close relatives. It seemed to be a strange phenomenon to doll out cash to little kids I'd never seen before, but the little ones jumped at the chance to collect as many red envelopes as they were given. Most children use their li xi money to buy new clothes, shoes, schooling supplies and toys throughout the year, depending on the family's situation. 





Normally, the hectic and harrowing Hanoian streets are a tangled and noisy web of chaos during the late afternoon but during Tet, the streets were relatively tame as we crossed the city for the last time, following Trong's parents' bike as we drove to Aunty Hoa's house, where we were again given good wishes and this time a "Banh Tet" cake, a cylindrical tube of rice and green bean that we would enjoy for breakfast over the coming days. 

Aunty Hoa gives me a sticky rice cake she prepared.

Coming home, I felt delightfully bloated, a little dusty, and full of good cheer and green tea. I had performed as best as I could, and met a whole battalion of new relatives, as well as familiar ones, all of which had welcomed me into their homes and insisted of me having "Please more, please more" of everything sweet and savoury treat they had to offer. 

If you ever get the chance to experience the "real Tet," whether it's within a Vietnamese family or with close friends, it's something that you will always treasure.

The Lunar New Year celebration is yet another occasion to observe the gregariousness, selflessness and exuberant generosity of the people of Vietnam, and how lucky I felt to be given the chance to witness this, center-stage.

Chuc Mung Nam Moi!