Place

When Anxiety Overshadows the Spirit of Tet

28 January, 2026

THE HANOI TIMES — As the Lunar New Year, or Tet, approaches, familiar murmurs of fatigue resurface. Many describe the holiday as overwhelming, with never-ending shopping lists, a calendar that seems to accelerate, and a relentless stream of last-minute errands, scheduled visits, and mounting expenses.

*Tet is a homecoming. Illustrated by Nora/The Hanoi Times.*

I once shared this sentiment. There were years when I secretly wished Tet would pause, just once, as it felt unjust that after twelve months of hard work and saving, the most demanding challenge would arrive at year’s end, requiring both financial and physical stamina.

Back then, I believed the joy of Tet lay solely in the quiet days following the chaos, when rest finally became possible.

I was mistaken.

For many families, Tet begins long before the new year’s first light. It starts with calculations—not just of money, but of responsibility. Tallying what remains after rent and school fees. Counting relatives to visit on both sides of the family. Budgeting for lucky money, gifts, and travel, while ensuring enough is left to avoid post-Tet debt.

Some argue that modern conveniences have eased the burden. Supermarkets stay open late, and deliveries arrive at the doorstep. With sufficient funds, a Tet feast can be prepared in an afternoon. Yet, the anxiety persists, for it has never been solely about convenience. It’s about ensuring no one feels overlooked and treating both sides of the family with equal care, even on a limited budget.

I once met a man whose family now caps Tet spending at VND5–6 million (US$200–240), down from VND20–25 million (US$800–1,000) in previous years. He didn’t complain. He explained they’ve learned to prioritize—enough food, enough fuel for the journey home, small gifts for parents and grandparents, and enough left to avoid starting the lunar year in panic.

For others, even this modest sum feels daunting. Many workers save quietly for weeks just to afford the trip home. Some stare at ticket prices on their phones, wondering if they can return this year or if they must endure another Tet away.

Yet, most still go, because Tet is more than a holiday—it’s a homecoming.

Reflecting on past Tet celebrations, I recall long nights boiling banh chung (traditional sticky rice cake), the bustling kitchen, and the sense of shared effort. Today, banh chung can be bought anywhere, clean and ready in hours. It tastes nearly the same, but something is lost when simplicity replaces communal effort.

I once heard a woman say she missed boiling banh chung, even though she no longer knew how. She lived in an apartment with no space for a fire, her relatives had moved away, and her neighbors were strangers. She missed the busyness, not for the hardship, but for the feeling of being surrounded by family.

This is where generational differences often emerge. Older people value the gathering itself, even if it requires work. Younger people, who can enjoy these dishes year-round, struggle to understand why they must spend precious time recreating what can be easily purchased. Both perspectives are valid, which is why Tet has evolved into various interpretations of the same tradition.

For me, the essence of Tet crystallizes on the year’s final night, as the last meal is set on the table. It’s never about the cost. It’s about the month of planning and the year of perseverance that made it possible. Parents feel relief, children feel abundance, and elders feel continuity.

As Tet nears, I notice details I once overlooked. My mother looks a bit older than last year. Some relatives move more slowly. I realize that one day, familiar faces will no longer be at this table. This thought makes the reunion feel more urgent, not sad, but precious in a way I didn’t grasp as a younger person.

In that moment, all worries fade. The effort finds its purpose.

That’s why I no longer believe Tet’s meaning lies solely in rest or celebration. For many families, it resides in the preparation itself—the saving, the careful choices, and the unwavering decision to return home, even when inconvenient.

There are now countless ways to celebrate Tet, and each person is free to choose their own. But I’ve learned not to dismiss the worry and rush as meaningless, for without that struggle, the reunion would feel hollow.

When the old year ends and everyone finally gathers, it becomes clear that the meaning of Tet was never at the end of the preparations.

The meaning has always been in the preparations themselves.