Craving the taste of Tet in the countryside

Poet Vuong Cuong: "Tet in my hometown is the most beautiful Tet for me"

Having spent many Tet holidays away from home. But for me, Tet holidays in my hometown (Dong Bich village, Trung Son, Do Luong) are still the most exciting and beautiful Tet holidays.

One of the indispensable hobbies of the boys in the neighborhood is making match guns. The guns are made months in advance, hidden and waiting for Tet to be fired. I, like many other children, have my match guns, hidden in a secret place like a treasure. But every day I secretly open them to look at them over and over again, sometimes I crave them so much that I steal my mother's matches and take them outside to fire one. The explosion is not loud but enough for a boy like me to feel ready for a complete and full Tet.

Only on Tet holiday, my mother gave me some matches to shoot a gun. It was as fun as the joy of new clothes. One year, a month before Tet, my mother took me to buy a shirt at a department store. As soon as I put on the shirt, I happily ran home. My mother paid for it and when I got home, she discovered that the shirt was too short and tight. However, I had to wait a month later, on Tet holiday, to wear that short shirt.

On the morning of the 29th and 30th of Tet, my friends and I woke up early to ride buffaloes to graze at Quy Mountain. We drove the buffaloes to Dong Bang or Da Vut, then went home to play. In the village, we could hear the squealing of pigs. At Truong well, many people were washing dong leaves to prepare for the night of wrapping banh chung. On the night of the 29th, almost the whole village stayed up to wrap and cook banh chung. I dozed off with my grandmother sitting and watching the pot of banh chung. She told fairy tales. Her voice, next to the flickering fire of the pot of banh chung that smelled so good on Tet, was so warm. And the small cakes that my father often wrapped for each child were the greatest joy on the last day of the year.

Poet Vuong Cuong

On the afternoon of the 30th, my mother took the children back to my maternal home. She brought chicken and sticky rice to celebrate Tet with my grandfather. My grandfather was a poor scholar with the highest degree in the area, respected by everyone. He patted his grandchildren's heads and gave each of them a peanut candy. On the first day, at dawn, I ran out into the street. My mother told me not to go into anyone's house. The children and I invited each other to play marbles around the banyan tree in the village hall. On the afternoon of the first day, we saw villagers coming to each other's houses to wish each other a happy new year. On the fifth day of Tet, the village was really happy. Young people played swings in pairs, their colorful clothes fluttering. The human chess team went out to the yard. To this day, I still think the human chess in my village is the most beautiful...

Having spent more than half of my life celebrating Tet away from home, there were some memorable Tets when I was in the army, but deep down in my heart, every Tet is still Tet in my hometown. Because even when I can no longer make match guns with my friends, or ride a buffalo at the foot of Quy hill on the last day of the year before Tet, or listen to my grandmother tell fairy tales while staying up all night waiting for banh chung, or my mother take me to the store to buy a new shirt, those memories always appear in my mind, as if they were living with me once again. When you are too attached to something, it means you will always have it, will never lose it. For me, the old Tet days in Dong Bich village will always accompany me during Tets far from home.

Writer Vo Thu Huong: "Pity myself when I miss Tet in my hometown"

I have lived in Vinh for nearly 20 years, and Ho Chi Minh City for more than 15 years. As fate would have it, my house in Vinh or Ho Chi Minh City is just a few steps away from the Tet flower market. As soon as December comes, a series of colorful flowers and fruits are blooming, waiting for Tet. The Tet atmosphere fills every step. But for some reason, for me, Tet is only truly Tet when I return to my hometown.

Tet is only truly Tet when you see the peach blossoms blooming more and more, more colorfully over the three days of Tet, right in the middle of the living room. It is only truly Tet when you eat the sticky rice cake wrapped the day before, huddled around the sticky rice tray with your grandparents, in the sweet cold. It is only truly Tet when you display the flowers you have cared for since they were bulbs and sprouts. It is only truly Tet when you go out from home and hear your hometown accent, speak your hometown accent. At midnight, early morning on the second or third day, you hear a voice calling out hot steamed buns, crispy bread... the plaintive accent of your hometown, and feel sorry for those who cannot celebrate Tet fully...

Writer Vo Thu Huong

I remember most the Tet holidays when my mother was still alive. I prepared candies and Tet parallel sentences with my mother to sell at the Vinh market intersection, went with my mother to buy flowers in the late afternoon when the flower market had closed (the flowers were cheap at that time, almost giving them away because people were selling them off to get home in time for New Year's Eve), when I returned to my hometown, I suddenly touched my mother's hair mixed with salt and dew, or when I boiled a pot of fragrant water made from lemongrass leaves and old coriander leaves, making the house smell fragrant for everyone to bathe at the end of the year...

More than 20 km from my current home is Di An town, Binh Duong. During Tet holidays when I don’t have the opportunity to go back to my hometown, I always set aside 1 or 2 days to go there. There are quite a few areas where you can meet Nghe An people wherever you go. When I go back to Di An, I will eat mackerel braised in molasses from Nghe An, pass by the alley and hear the neighbor with a heavy Do Luong accent full of affection call me in to drink green tea, give the kids molasses cakes cooked exactly like the molasses cakes I used to sit with my eyes wide open, trying to stay awake waiting for her to make the New Year’s Eve offering. And only then can I feel less restless, feel my heart soften during the Tet holidays away from home in a place with blazing sunshine and brilliant yellow chrysanthemums.

My friend, Ms. Le Chi, an editor in Ho Chi Minh City (formerly an editor of NTV station) said that she rarely celebrates Tet away from home. One year, her job was so close to the 30th of Tet that she was not ready to book plane tickets in advance. It was only when the return date was near that the mother and child got on the train, bought extra seats, and endured spreading mats on the train floor, reeking of the sweat of strangers. Despite everything, she only wanted to return home for Tet, burn incense at her father's grave, and reunite with her mother. There are things that seem to be boring if repeated every year, but Tet is not one of those repetitions. Tet is a rule, a cycle connected by love.

“I am a country girl/ Many long years in the city” - is a verse by poet Giang Van, so simple, like a confession, a feeling. But why every time Spring comes and Tet comes, remembering it makes my heart sink, pitying myself, someone who always craves the taste of Tet in the countryside.

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