Chúc Mừng Năm Mới

Monday, January 23, 2012
Posted by TwoLively

Chúc Mừng Năm Mới / Happy (Lunar) New Year! As you've probably read, we are in Vietnam, celebrating Tết (the Vietnamese Lunar New Year.) It's the most important and popular holiday in Vietnam. People save their money all year long in order to celebrate this holiday. This year--2012--is the year of the Dragon.

For days, we've heard this ABBA song everywhere: Happy New Year (MarcoPolo is quite the lyricist; he changed the words "Happy New Year" in the song to "Chúc Mừng Năm Mới" because it's the same amount of syllables.) For a fun local version, check out this link.


Another song we heard quite a few times was this little gem, also a song for New Year's. Tootsie may have heard it a little more than anyone else... it was one of the songs that played continuously in the "gift shop" portion of the fish sauce factory. Talk about Post Traumatic StinkyFish Disorder!

We started off our New Years Day by heading to Grandma's house. We sampled the food that was made the day before. The Travel Agent's Mom showed us how to cut the roll--with string--the same way our moms cut cinnamon roll dough! (Except our moms aren't that agile, and need to use two hands on the string.) The banana roll turned a dark pink/red on the inside. The pork one tasted just like refried beans!

Mom cuts the roll

We forgot to mention a few interesting things. Yesterday, Sunday, we heard the church bell ring. Every Sunday, whenever it's time for Mass, there's a warning bell, telling the people to get to church, followed by a final bell. Also, every morning and every evening, there are speakers (mounted to poles in the street) that blare out news messages to the people. 

To begin the Chuc Mung Nam Moi ceremony, the relatives changed into their nicest clothing. We didn't know to do that, and we felt like dirty slobs! Then, Grandma lit the incense for the ancestors. The family members took turns approaching Grandma and offering kind blessings to her: health, happiness, etc. In turn, Grandma gave them a blessing, plus a red envelope with about 20,000 dong ($1.00 US.) At the end of their ceremony, they asked us to participate. As couples, we took turns approaching Grandma (and, fortunately for Glinda & TwoLively, our "better half" gave the impromptu speeches.)

As we visited with the family, we heard the beating sound of a drum growing louder and louder. The Dragon Dance was headed to the house! The Travel Agent's teenage cousin was one of the dancers (in the head of the dragon.) There were three sets of boys who took turns inside the dragon. The dragon followed a young boy (dressed as an old man) who waved a paper to incite the dragon. The dragon/old man danced through the yard, then weaved in and out of the house, and around again. Previously, the family hung an envelope with money high above the door, and at the end of the dance, the dragon had to reach up and "eat" the money. The dragon (teenage boys, remember) had to drink any beer left on the table (they went to 20 houses that day--and at one house had to drink 6 beers!) The first Dragon Dance was for the house/family, and the second dance was especially for us, to wish us luck. All-in-all, the dancing lasted at least 1/2 hour.

Shortly after the Dragon Dance, the Priest and a group of men came to the house for tea/well-wishing. We left as they arrived, to give them a private visit, and walked down to Mom's house. While we were there, it started to rain. The rain combined with the afternoon heat lulled us into naps (Glinda and Tootsie dozed in hammocks on the porch; TwoLively and MarcoPolo napped in the bedroom.) We reluctantly woke up, and headed to Mom's house for dinner. We ate the yummy pork and eggs she had made the day before (Later: I read online that pork with boiled eggs is a Vietnamese New Years dish.)

Afterward, we shared some toys and miscellanous things we had brought for the family. This was quite the ice-breaker, and we all had fun laughing and demonstrating the toys to each other. The Aunties all wanted a hairbrush/handmirror set that Tootsie had brought, so they decided that whoever could guess Tootsie's favorite color (blue) would win (Sister.) Brother and Dragon Dancing Cousin both wanted a tiger head that was on a stick (when you squeeze the handle, the tiger's mouth clamped shut.)

Sharing these items really made us realize how lucky we are to be able to have so much junk! Our kids are spoiled, and they don't even know it. Plus, we are lucky to have stores that even carry toys (all the toys we've seen here in Vietnam look like dollar-store quality toys...but don't have dollar store prices.) I could go on and on about this subject, but I already have enough American Guilt from the War Remnant Museum...

After dinner, one of the Aunties noticed the scar from my ICD (pacemaker/defibrillator) and wanted to know about it (in Vietnam, the people have no qualms inquiring about iffy subjects...like age, weight, etc.) The other Aunties, then Uncles, gathered around and had a lot of questions. They were shocked and amazed that I could have such a device. They were stunned at the price ($250,000+) and that I only had to pay $1500 (our co-pay.) In Vietnam, if you don't have cash, you don't receive medical help and they let you die. One Auntie told the story about the head of the hospital's son-in-law being in a scooter crash; nobody recognized him, and since he didn't have cash on him, he died. We found out that in Vietnam, the cost of having a baby is about $300--and the typical person makes about $3500 per year. One of the Aunts had two babies that died as she gave birth, because she was in labor too long. They told us that in America, we have options, but in Vietnam the only option is to die. Once again, we grumble about our insurance and co-pays...but we really are fortunate.

Funny Thing To Remember:
The Travel Agent and Brother were talking about how smart Oz was with computers. The Travel Agent knows that Oz is forgetful, and needs Glinda to navigate him through life--and told Brother this. In return, Brother said something along the lines of: "Oh, I get it. He operates on 2 gigs instead of 4 gigs..." (Later: When we heard this, it cracked us up! We think Oz's moniker should be changed to "TwoGig"!)