What is the smell of Tet like? That question, seemingly casual, but every time it touches, it makes people's hearts flutter, like a thin string squeezing through the region of memory. Tet does not only appear with colors or bustling sounds; Tet comes first with smell - a very faint, very deep smell, creeping into every small corner of life, touching the softest place in the heart.
Tet has the smell of kitchen smoke. The smell is lingering, not strong, not pungent, clinging to the roof from early morning. When the sky is still foggy, when the chicken in the neighborhood just crows for the first time, the pot of cakes has started to boil. The kitchen smoke blends with the mist, blends with the smell of fresh dong leaves, the smell of new sticky rice, the smell of sweet green beans, lightly fatty. The sound of boiling water simmering throughout the night is like an ancient lullaby, bringing the whole family into a peaceful sleep. In that rustic smell, there is the patience of adults, there is the excitement of children, there is also the slowdown of time, enough for people to listen to themselves.
Tet also has the smell of the last afternoons of the year. When the sun has softened, the wind has cooled, the whole family gathers to wipe the altar again. Wet wipes squeezed dry, hands gently wipe each corner of wood that has become shiny over the years. Father repairs the rocking hinge, mother rearranges familiar things as if rearranging the whole past year. In that peaceful space, the scent of incense is faint. Not too strong, not too clear, just enough to remind people of their roots, of distant faces, of an invisible but persistent connection between generations.
Tet has the smell of new clothes still with folds. The smell of new fabric, the light smell of lacquer, the smell of just-purified plans. Clothes hanging on the hook, waiting for the first day of the year to be put on as if wearing a glimmer of hope. Besides, there is the smell of cakes and jams just opened - the sweet smell of sugar, ginger, roasted sesame seeds, mashed coconuts. Just opening the lid, the whole room seems to light up. Then the smell of hot tea poured into a small cup, slightly steaming in the chilling cold, enough to warm the hands, enough for the story to begin.
On the afternoon of the 30th of Tet, mother diligently boils a pot of old coriander water. The fragrance gently rises. Mother urges everyone in the house to take a year-end bath, bathe to wash themselves with that pot of coriander water. Only once a year, as a ritual. The fragrance of the pot of old coriander water is an indispensable part of Tet.
But Tet does not only have smells that are easy to name. Tet also has the smell of time. The smell of busy year-end days, when the streets are more crowded, when people's footsteps are more hurried but their hearts are softer. The smell of long-distance buses, the smell of wind mixed in dust, the smell of cold-smelling jackets. Those smells blend together, not beautiful, not romantic in the usual way, but it is the most certain sign: Tet has come.
And above all, Tet smells of return.
That is the smell of a familiar house, even if it is old, even if the walls are peeling paint, even if the door chimes softly every time it opens. It is the smell of a full-people meal - the smell of hot soup, the smell of braised meat, the smell of newly cooked rice. It is the smell of calling each other in the yard, in the kitchen, mixed with laughter, the sound of touching bowls and chopsticks. A very unique smell, which cannot be bought, cannot be packed and taken away, can only be felt when stepping through the familiar door. Just smelling it, you know: I'm home.
There are years when people go very far. So far that Tet is just a day on the calendar, a few lines of text message wishing each other quickly. But strangely, in the middle of an unexpected afternoon, when the smell of smoke faintly passes, when the smell of hot tea rises, or when the smell of lychee just touches your nose, Tet memories rush back. It comes gently but persistently, making people suddenly want to stop, want to turn around, want to go a little slower so as not to miss anything.
Tet is therefore not as noisy as fireworks, not as brilliant as colored lights. Tet persistently exists with smell - a shapeless memory but with a strange holding power. The smell of reunion, of peace, of love is still intact, not yet damaged by everyday impacts. That smell makes people soften, forgive more easily, remember more.
Perhaps that's why no matter how far they go, people still remember Tet. Remembering is not because of the lavish feast, but because of the feeling of belonging. Remembering because somewhere, amidst countless busyness, there is still a scent waiting, just returning to touch it.
Are you ready to take a deep breath to feel the Tet scent?
