In a typical year, I take advantage of the long holiday that Tết offers to travel abroad. But, life has been everything but ordinary since the COVID-19 breakout in Wuhan and its halo effect around South East Asia. Especially in Vietnam, as the Government took early actions and closed the borders in February 2020. Since then, no one could get in or out of the country. As you expected, this year, it was impossible. Considering the current travel restrictions, I planned to travel domestically and explore more of my country of residence. My first attempt to plan my holiday involved a week-long motorbike trip to Ha Giang - in the extreme North of Vietnam, near the Chinese border - along with eight (8) friends. But, this plan got ditched with serious complications involving a scam from a tourist agency in Hanoi (post coming soon…).

My neighbour, Rose, had heard that my holiday plans got cancelled at the last minute. In an attempt to help me enjoy my days off of work, she generously offered to join her travel to her hometown and spend Tết Holiday with her family in the Central Highlands. Most Vietnamese leave their hometown to pursue their studies or seek work in the metropolis. It is common to see them flee the big city in masses to visit their family every chance they get. Then, for a short period of 7 days, Saigon is unrecognizable. Quiet, clear blue sky, no traffic, etc. As they say during this period, "Saigon is handed back to the Saigonese."

I know what you are thinking: "Is it such a great idea to spend the Lunar New Year with my neighbour's family?" After all, I have already experienced this during my first months relocating to Vietnam (A Tale of Red Lanterns). I thought about it. But then again, in three (3) years living in this beautiful country, I was yet to experience firsthand the most important holiday of the year. It was simply an offer that I couldn't refuse with very little time to spend before relocating again to Indonesia in a few months. Although I clarified all potential pitfalls before accepting what was shrewdly positioned as a selfless deed, I knew deep down that it was just a formality to clear my conscience, but they'd all materialize regardless. I still went for it. After all, unlike my host, I was after the experience and nothing else.

Travelling during THE COVID-19 OUTBREAK

Considering the current COVID-19 situation, we decided to book a private driver to commute to the Dak Nong province. Under normal circumstances, we would have travelled with a 16-seater. However, knowing that a simple commute shared with a suspected "F1" (someone alleged to have been in contact with a confirmed positive case) would be enough to retrace all travellers and bring them to a quarantine camp outside the city. Knowing a few of my friends who had gone through this unpleasant experience, I made sure to apply every action to mitigate the risk of going through a similar treatment. The driver picked us up from our apartment complex at 8:00 am. We then took on a six-hour drive to the Dak Nong province, located about 250km North-North-East from Saigon.

A white tent on the emergency lane served as a COVID-19 checkpoint at the tollgate. Luckily, we were not asked to go through the screening process, probably because there were only three (3) people in our car, and we kept on driving with limited stops along the way. The less contact we have with people, the better it is. We finally arrived at Rose's parents' house, a modest construction situated in the middle of a coffee and pepper plantation. Rose's dad and brother raced to the car trunk to take both our pieces of luggage inside the guest room. I found it funny that parents would assume that I would share a bed with his daughter. That was already quite different from my previous experience in 2018. But, Rose's family is not originally from Dak Nong. They come from the Thai Binh province, located around an hour outside Hanoi. In the North, a 25 years-old daughter is already considered old in the quest to get married. Rose is 28, so I guess this was the first message sent my way to tie the knots despite him not knowing a thing about me. Rose didn't mention to her parents yet that I am moving to Indonesia soon. So, whatever situationship we're in surely won't convert into officialization, and both Rose and I had shaken hands on it.

VIETNAMESE HOSPITALITY

The father greeted me on their traditional wooden living room set and offered me a cup of green tea. Traditionally, it's how guests are welcomed in a Vietnamese household. Shortly after the formalities, Rose and I went for a walk around the estate to enjoy the fresh air and wide spaces we usually are deprived of in Saigon while her brother plucked a chicken just outside the house. I also took advantage of this walk to work on my photography skills. The golden landscape under the setting sun inspired me. I could even secure a few blockbusters for Rose. While attempting to replicate those beautiful shots by switching roles, the result was nowhere near similar. Despite my efforts to explain how the composition should be and where to focus, the outcome was just deplorable. Rose is a strong-minded individual. By the nature of her profession, she is not used to taking orders or directions from others. It goes without saying that whenever I tried to transfer knowledge related to the art of photography, I did not even finish my sentence that she was already pointing the camera toward me added with a very short "Got it!" to shut me up. Her photography equalled her listening skills. Then again, it's the photographer's curse not to have someone skilled to take photos of them.

Around 6:00 pm, dinner was already served as the parents wake up at 4:00 am every morning to work in the field. From what I understood, life in the countryside shifts a few hours earlier to take full advantage of the daylight. The inviting smell of sizzling poultry coming out of the chicken put two and two together with my glimpse of the brother's chores a few hours earlier. "We have chicken," said Rose. No kidding! I could have guessed. It can't get any fresher than that and, consequently, was equally delicious. Rose knows that outside of pork and other specific local delicacies that are an absolute no-go for any Westerner, I am totally fine with eating chicken liver, hearts or even feet. At 8:00 pm, the parents went to sleep while Rose and I stayed awake to watch movies on my laptop. There is nothing much to do on a farm when it's pitch black outside. So, we did the same and called it a night relatively early.

The following day, the parents woke us up to join a meeting in the living room. We received the visit of local police officers coming to find out who was this mysterious Western guest visiting the area. How did the authorities find out that I was here, you might ask? The well-renowned Vietnamese gossip made its way from a neighbour down to the police station within the first 12 hours. Typical! Rose's dad arranged a scooter for us, and off we drove off to the local health center, a formality that required everyone from outside the province to register locally for COVID-19 tracing. Nonetheless, it only took a few minutes, and it wasn't a big deal.

This morning, a representative of the local authorities came to fill the same form I had filled at the health center the previous morning. Evidently, duplication of bureaucratic tasks is one more thing that the Vietnamese picked up from the French. As Vietnamese hospitality dictates, we welcomed the officer into the wooden living room for hot green tea. When the form was duly completed with Rose's help - my personal translator for the week - the officer scanned through the form and thought out loud: "I don't know how to pronounce this name." He then made a joke suggesting that I find a localized alter ego. In Vietnamese, all words are composed of one syllable and don't have an ending sound, so any multisyllabic word becomes a challenge. In addition, some sounds such as "p", "j" or "r" are nonexistent. You can understand why "James" represents a phonetic challenge for most. I often heard derivatives of my - straightforward and wide-spread - name ranging from "Jame" (with no "s") to "Zem" on a good day.

Mnong Ethnic Minority

Rose's brother happens to be close friends with a member of the Mnong Ethnic Community residing in the Dak Nong province, one of the 54 ethnic minorities censed in Vietnam. He suggested we join him to wish him and his family a Happy Lunar New Year. It's not often that a foreigner gets offered the opportunity to get an insider look at an ethnic village, so I gladly accepted the offer. So, we hopped on our scooters and off we drove to the village. Our contact greeted us in his minimalistic habitat with practically no furniture in it, except for a straw mat and a few pillows. We joined the host onto the rudimentary living room for, once again, a cup of green tea. While the brother was holding conversations with our host, I answered the simple questions in broken English while simultaneously snapping photos of their youngest daughter. She was so adorable that I couldn't take my lens off of her, and with reason. The photos where she is featured are the most popular of the Licence To Live Online Shop. As you can imagine, the visit of a foreigner to the village brought a lot of attention to the community's people. I could notice a cluster of teenagers and children gathered near the front porch from the living room. Rose suggested I go outside to meet them and allow them a few selfies with me. Only in the most remote areas halfway across the globe can the most normal anonymous person get the celebrity experience.

We left the village in the late afternoon. On the way back home, we stopped at a rice field to take a few more photos, as a handful of locals continued putting hours in before the sunset. While I was busy taking shots of the hardworking women - the backbone of Vietnam - lifting heavy backs of rice in series, Rose recognized a member of the family, her sister-in-law's father, also working the field with his wife. We are indeed in a small village of Everywhere, VN. This hometown experience is the real Vietnam, and it never ceases to surprise me. Every time I have a chance to spend time in the countryside, I hear the most amusing superstitions. For instance, Rose's pregnant sister-in-law drinks lots of coconut milk in the hopes of their first-born daughter having light skin - a well-known sign of beauty in Vietnamese culture.

Traditional Tết Lunar New Year Song

Vietnamese Traditions for Lunar New Year

Choosing the right Tết Tree
We continued our journey to the flower market located downtown. Like Christmas for Western countries, a particular tree also accompanies the Tết tradition. In this case, it is a kumquat tree that decorates the Vietnamese living rooms, as its blossom season coincides with the Lunar New Year. Alongside the kumquat tree, other trees are also prevalent during this period, namely the peach blossom tree in the North and the apricot blossom tree in the South of the country. Rose and her dad browsed around in search of the perfect plants to warm their home with while I wandered with my camera, trying to capture the Tết spirit to the best of my abilities.
The Art of Making Bánh Chưng
Back at the house, Rose's dad offered to teach me about another Tết tradition: the art of making bánh chưng, the delicious rice cake made from glutinous rice, mung beans, pork and ground pepper seasoning. This well-preserved tradition of Vietnamese people is considered an essential element of the family altar on the occasion of Tết. The traditional recipe was lightly modified with the substitution of pork with beef meat, for my sake. It was very thoughtful of them to accommodate my dietary restrictions. We started with shaping banana leaves in square boxes, filled them up in layers with the different ingredients, closed them, and tied them up with straws. After piling some twenty (20) bánh chưng, the next step was to boil them into a giant metal pot over a wood fire in the barn. The simmering process would take around eight (8) hours for the rice cakes to be ready just in time for the next morning. With very little to do in the area, the countryside life quickly revolves around food. Every other hour, I get pulled at the dining table for yet another round of God knows what comes between breakfast and brunch. I was literally force-fed like a duck. "James! Ăn cơm!" they shouted long before I even completed the digestion process from the previous round. With the never-ending rounds of homemade rice liquor, I am beginning to think that these people are after my liver. After a few shots, Rose's dad looked at me and said while cheering: "You have one year!" I wasn't sure what he meant at first, but then I understood that he imposed a year's deadline, after which I'd be faced with an ultimatum. Mmm… Rose didn't tell her parents about my mutation to Indonesia. In Vietnam, there is a serious culture of peer pressure. While most are enjoying the freedom of the metropolis, they are back to being confronted with the usual questions every year during the same period - Tết: ‘When are you getting married?”; “Why are you so picky?”; “Why do you need to live so far from your old parents?”. A day or two of this could be manageable, but at five or six, you have either decided to give in, or your head is about to explode. Because of those brainwashing questions, some even went as far as bringing a fake boyfriend along to the family reunion. Perhaps my social presence served to mask aspects of Rose’s true self from her family. Like a beard.
Barbecue, fireworks and firecrackers
The night before Tết Day, the family organized a barbecue in the backyard. Nothing says coziness like the warmth of a campfire, even more so when fresh meat cuts are sizzling on it. The dinner preparation followed the classic hunt-nest dichotomy with the boys making the fire, dad handling the barbecuing and the ladies preparing the rice and vegetables. Although, I must admit that these manifestations of machismo, though very frequent, are not representative of the Vietnamese society that is mainly carried on the back of the strong Vietnamese woman. Four of the brother's buddies showed up on scooters with a few 24-packs with them. Enough to wonder how they would return home at the festivities' end. But, after three (3) years living in Vietnam, I stopped wondering. The rest of the evening continued predictably, with the ladies preparing the assorted plates, dad distributing the grilled meat, the boys inciting for countless rounds of "Một-hai-ba-dzô!" and fireworks after dinner. The festivities ended in the wee hours of the morning.
Morning Karaoke
The following day, an early karaoke session woke us up with the volume loud enough to have the faraway neighbours sing along—no chance to extend my sleep with such festivities in the living room. Rose forgot to mention that she had bought a costly and deafening karaoke system for her parents to enjoy. The two (2) nieces indeed enjoyed it with signing traditional Tết songs before breakfast: "Tết Tết Tết Đến Rồi!"
Red Envelopes and Lucky Money
After breakfast, we gathered in the living room to exchange the almighty red envelopes. While the Christmas tradition has it that thoughtful gifts are exchanged, spending a few years in Asia taught me that no gift could possibly be more thoughtful than cash. Consequently, it's the exact purpose of the red envelopes. The "lucky money" concept is a game that consists of placing brand new bills in different red envelopes to offer the family members to pick from. The luckiest ones will walk away with the largest denominations. Usually, kids pick first and, since every adult prepares a similar set of envelopes, the game ends pretty tied by the law of numbers. Brand new bills are a key element of "lucky money," as it is believed that new money brings fortune into the new year.
Saluting the Neighbors
The parents went on a scooter tour for the rest of the day to wish all neighbours a Happy New Year. Consequently, all neighbours did the same and came over one after the other to offer their wishes. Every stop involved being welcomed in the traditional wooden living room, sipping a cup of green tea, customary chit-chat and a few shots of rice liquor. As time went by, we could see that the neighbours passing by the house were redder than the previous.
Wishes
Let’s be honest, my Vietnamese skills are very poor even after three (3) years of living here. although, there are a few sentences that I take pride in pronouncing almost perfectly. Rose made sure to teach me how to wish her parents a happy new year, and it goes like this:
1. Happy New Year: “Chúc mừng năm mới”
2. I (younger) wish you (aunt and uncle) a lot of health: “Con chúc cô chú có nhiều sức khoẻ”
Keeping the house dirty
Rose brought to my attention that the house floor was still carrying sunflower seed shells and other dirty elements. Knowing that the Vietnamese are usually very tidy and clean, it was surprising to witness such untidiness during the most important holiday in Vietnamese culture. She asked if I knew the reason for this, while my best-estimated guess was that it was because her mother spent the whole day outside the house. She then explained that, during the Tết, it is believed that cleaning the house would chase away all the good fortune that came along with the new year. So, in short, during Tết, refrain from cleaning your home and keep the good spirits in!

There are many more traditions to the Tết celebration, but those are the ones that I picked up on. I also remember that returning to the work, the first day in the office consists of a complete day playing cards for money. I mean, computers are not even turned on. Gambling is illegal in Vietnam, but playing cards for small change is just another way to welcome good fortune into the new year. Besides, it’s just for sport and a lot of fun.

While the day was ending, I suggested Rose go for a bike ride. A suggestion to which she looked at me and rolled her eyes, meaning: "You can't stay still, can you?" Indeed, I cannot. So, she met me halfway with a walk around the estate to enjoy the sunset among the pepper trees. It was enough for me to feel better, especially since we planned to spend the next day at Ta Dung Lake - located around two (2) hours away by motorbike - so I could use a slow day.

Ta Dung Lake

Arguably one of the main highlights of the Dak Nong province is the Ta Dung Lake. It's a large reservoir with 40 islands and peninsulas of various sizes and shapes, undulating on its scenic surface. The area carries a vast offering of camping, boating, or exploring springs and waterfalls. We didn't do any of those activities for lack of time, which I think was a giant miss. Instead, we visited a day trip and kept it to a minimal enjoyment of the dramatic view of the 22,000ha area. When arriving at the main viewpoint, I noticed that everyone visiting was wearing the traditional ethnic costumes, similar to those in the northern provinces. There was an entrance fee to access a large balcony filled with the usual kitsch perks to help you take "beautiful photos." To this day, I still don't understand what is so interesting to pose next to a dinosaur, a stairway to heaven or a pirate boat while the spectacular view you came to contemplate in the first place is right there behind you! We wandered around the area for about an hour until the burning midday sun. Public Enemy #1 in Vietnam is the sunlight, if you don't know yet. At noon, everyone was hanging where the shades were, avoiding UV sun rays at all cost. Just a little ice cream break, and we drove just a few meters away from the main attraction point, only to realize that we could have enjoyed the same view at a mom-and-pop restaurant in exchange for any consumption. We ordered two (2) cà phê sữa đá (Vietnamese ice coffee with milk) and two (2) mì xào bò (stir fry noodles with beef) and hung there for another hour. I thought, if only we had seen this hideout earlier… We took the road again right on time to reach the house before the sunset. When we arrived home, Rose’s mom probably heard the scooter engine breaking the omnipotent silence. As soon as I turned off the ignition, I heard: "James! Ăn cơm!"