Many countries celebrate Lunar New Year, but in Vietnam, Tết Nguyên Đán, Vietnam’s Lunar New Year, is considered a “mega event” holiday.
Think of it as if Christmas, New Year’s, Easter, and Thanksgiving all made a group chat to plan one giant, spectacular bash. It’s a time for reflection, reconnection, and resolutions, all wrapped in centuries of culture and tradition.
Tết transforms everyday routines into meaningful rituals. Buying groceries? Suddenly an event. Cleaning the house? A spiritual cleanse.
The word "Tết" comes from the Vietnamese term tiết, meaning “season,” highlighting how deeply the festival is tied to nature’s cycles. Historically, Tết began thousands of years ago as a break for hardworking farmers after a long stretch in the rice field, a chance to rest, party, and prep for the year ahead. Originally brought to Vietnam through Chinese colonialism, the lunar new year festival has since become a symbol of Vietnamese cultural sovereignty and blossomed into a holiday overflowing with food, rituals, and togetherness. Tết isn’t just a new calendar page. It’s a fresh start for people’s home, family and spirit.
Preparing for Tết is a big deal: homes are cleaned and decorated, special foods like sticky rice cakes (bánh chưng and bánh tét) are made, and everyone dresses in their finest clothes. There’s a belief that the first days of the new year set the tone for the rest of it, so people strive to keep spirits high, avoid bad luck and express hope for health, prosperity and happiness.
In Vietnamese homes, the air carries the scent of peach apricot blossoms, and the streets come alive with vibrant decorations and bustling markets. People visit friends and neighbours, exchange gifts and offer good wishes. The symbolism is everywhere, from kumquat trees, which represent unity and togetherness, to traditional folk songs urging people to “remember to come home at Tết.”
Although Tết officially spans only four days of public holiday, don’t be fooled. The celebration starts early and stretches across two to three weeks, from the 23rd of tháng Chạp to at least the 7th (some say the 15th) of tháng Giêng. It kicks off with the kitchen god, zooming off to the Jade Emperor to spill the tea on people’s household behaviour. The symbolic cây nêu pole is planted and later taken down to mark the festival’s end. In cities, Tết is everywhere: homes, parks, temples, flower markets, you name it.
In an article in the Journal of Southeast Asian Studies the late anthropologist Patrick McAllister writes, “Most of these are sites of social activity all year round... but this activity is transformed and intensified [by Tết].”
Growing up in Vancouver, far from Vietnam, the shift into Lunar New Year always arrived in a quieter form. When I’d see the lanterns appear along the city’s streets, I knew the season has begun. They were hard to miss; bright red, round and glowing softly above sidewalks and store windows.
At first glance, they were just decorations: golden, swaying slightly in the winter wind. But something about their glow always stopped me. Maybe it was the contrast, the soft, warm light cutting through the cold gray sky. Or maybe it was the feeling that these lanterns weren’t just for show. They carried meaning.
I’d pause under them, usually while walking through the city in late January or early February. I didn’t always know what the words on the lanterns meant. They were usually written in Vietnamese or Chinese characters, brushstrokes that looked elegant but unfamiliar. Still, I found them fascinating. The curves, the shapes, the way the ink seemed to flow across the surface, it all felt intentional and meaningful, even if I couldn’t translate it. There was a kind of beauty in just looking, in knowing that those words carried wishes for luck, happiness, or prosperity.
Sometimes I’d reach up and touch the lanterns when they hung low enough. The material was thin and slightly rough, like a mix between fabric and paper. It crinkled a bit under my fingers if there was wind. The designs, gold patterns of dragons, flowers and, traditional symbols felt delicate, almost as if they would be rubbed off if I wasn’t careful.
These intricate decorations reflect the spirit of Tết as an exuberant celebration of renewal. When the festival begins, Vietnam lights up with bright red and yellow decorations, lively markets and festive activities. Red is especially important because it symbolizes luck and happiness, which is why red envelopes filled with lucky money are given to children and elders alike.
I’ve had a few Vietnamese friends who introduced me, in small but memorable ways, to the traditions of Tết. One winter afternoon in middle school, after a chaotic snowball fight, I went over to a friend’s house for a playdate. As I was getting ready to leave, his mom handed me a small red envelope and said it was for Lunar New Year. I remember sitting in the car, peeling it open and finding a crisp $10 bill inside.
At the time, I was mostly thrilled about the money, already dreaming of what I’d spend it on. But looking back, I wish I had taken a moment to really notice the envelope itself. The unique gold patterns, the texture of the paper and the care with which it was given. That simple gesture was more than just a gift; it was a glimpse into a rich cultural tradition I didn't fully understand then but deeply appreciate now.
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