Tet looks forward and back

The nostalgia comes in waves when Trinh Tuyet Tran remembers celebrating the lunar new year in her home country, where firecrackers popped and lion dancers paraded down the streets of Saigon for weeks.

Her parents, uncle, aunt and siblings lived under one roof, and the entire country was caught up in the spirit of Tet -- sweeping out the sorrows of the past and welcoming in the new year.

Tran, 52, and her family are now scattered across Southern California, but like thousands of Vietnamese who came to America after the fall of Saigon, they have clung to the memories and tradition of a country they left decades ago.

On Thursday, 19 of Tran’s sisters, brothers, in-laws and nephews will squeeze into her mother’s living room in Westminster to mark the arrival of the lunar new year.

Tran will hand out li xi, the red envelopes stuffed with crisp dollar bills, to her young nephews in exchange for wishes of luck, prosperity and happiness. The family will feast on banh chung, the tasty rice cake wrapped in banana leaves. And they will probably play bau cua, a gambling game of dice etched with roosters, crabs and fish.

Such multigeneration gatherings will play out across the nation as thousands of Vietnamese make their way to places like Little Saigon to celebrate the arrival of the Year of the Mouse -- or Tet Mau Ty -- with relatives and friends.

Tet gatherings in the United States are also viewed as an opportunity to teach children born here what it means to be Vietnamese.

The festive nature of the holiday, with lucky money, family gatherings and colorful foods, makes it easier for parents to pass along deep traditions that could otherwise get lost in America.

Tran, who doesn’t have children of her own, tells her young nephews what Tet was like in Vietnam. “Tet lives with me forever,” she says.

Restaurants and markets in Little Saigon order twice as much food in anticipation, the sweet aroma of steaming rice cakes hangs in the streets, and under canopies set up in parking lots merchants sell blossoming flowers and red-cellophane-wrapped gifts of candies and dried fruits.

In Garden Grove there will be a three-day festival with a replica of a Vietnam village, traditional dances and a beauty pageant. And after an absence of three years, a cultural parade, complete with lion dancers, will stream down Little Saigon’s main street.

Among Vietnamese, Chinese and some Koreans, the lunar new year is regarded as the most important cultural holiday of the year. There are some differences in the way the Chinese and Vietnamese celebrate, but many traditions are similar. For the Vietnamese, this is the year of the mouse; for the Chinese, it’s the year of the rat.

But more than the typical American new year’s party scene, Tet brings with it deep cultural anchors and a sense of reflection and remembrance. It’s a time to practice forgiveness, tuck away past regrets, prepare for renewal.

On the eve of the new year, Tran lights incense on an altar to invite her ancestors back to earth to celebrate with the family. At midnight, she goes to the Buddhist temple to pray for good luck.

Tet leans heavily on superstitions. Sweeping on Tet means brushing money out of the house. The first person to walk through the door will determine the family’s fortunes in the coming year. Children are taught to be on their best behavior, and parents refrain from scolding.

For weeks, Vietnamese American families have prepared for Tet, decking out their homes with kumquat trees and branches of delicate yellow hoa mai and pink peach blossoms.

People have rushed to the bank to reserve stacks of “lucky” crisp dollar bills and have put in orders for sticky rice cakes that are stuffed with mung beans and pork.

Tran said she went to the market to buy gifts for friends and family, grabbing rice cakes and dozens of trays of candied coconut and lotus seeds that are prepared in Little Saigon.

It was different when she lived in Hue, the city in central Vietnam where the family prepared the goodies by hand. Back then, a group of friends in the village would spend a day preparing batches of sticky rice cakes, trading turns sleeping and sharing stories to tend to the stove, because the cakes take more than 10 hours to cook.

Her parents saved money each month in preparation, knowing that relatives they rarely saw would soon be arriving. Her mother and grandmother would begin sewing new traditional outfits for the children more than a month before the new year and the family made sure the house was spotless, sometimes even painting the walls.

“In Vietnam, the preparation is more fun than Tet itself,” she said.

Her mother, Tuyet, agreed. “The whole country of Vietnam has the atmosphere of Tet,” she said. “Here, it’s quiet.”

“Life is too busy here,” Tran added. “It was more relaxing then.”

Even so, Tran says she still gets eager for Tet to arrive.

“I feel excited for Tet like when I was a little kid,” she said. “You always wished for Tet to come around because that’s when you get new clothes and no one yells at you.”

Tran came to her mother’s house Jan. 30 for a ritual honoring Ong Tao, the kitchen god. Her mother prayed, lighted incense and offered candies and fruit.

In a large wok on the kitchen floor, Tran’s mother burned fake paper shirts and gold, items the kitchen god would surely need for his journey to see the Jade Emperor. Legend has it that the kitchen god reports the family’s activities over the past year, which could bring fortune into the home. After Tet, Ong Tao returns to oversee the kitchen.

In Vietnam, Tran’s family would fish for a carp in the river and offer it to the kitchen god as transportation for the spirit’s journey; afterward, they would return the fish to the water.

In Westminster, there is no nearby river, just the teeming suburban streets. So they burn a fake paper carp instead.

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my-thuan.tran@latimes.com