In four days most of the Western world will be sharing personal moments with loved ones in celebration of Valentines Day.  But in countries who recognize the lunar calendar, February 14 marks the most important day of the year.

The Vietnamese New Year, or Tet, is a magical holiday.  The city defaults to a more organized chaos than usual during the mounting days.  Then it virtually shuts down.  Most people return to their home villages to spend the week with their families.

A few days ago I ventured out of the city with a photographer friend of mine named Quinn Mattingly.  Our intention was to drive north to Tay Ninh near the Cambodian border for the day.  But once we hit the town of Cu Chi, I became tired of driving on the highway with the hoards of traffic leaving the city and decided to venture down an unknown road.

I tried to memorize each turn as we drove further into the maze of country roads.  I have been reading an interesting book lately about all the battles in Vietnam during the 20th century.  There are even fairly detailed maps of each.  That book was on my mind during the drive.  In fact when ever I’m driving in the country the past is on my mind.  What did it look like?  Who was standing in this very spot where I am now?  I am obsessed with these thoughts.  The truth of the matter is it most likely did not look any different at all.  Time pretty much stands still outside the cities.

Memories of the past are everywhere.  Some are obvious while others are hidden behind layers of time.  An abandoned home sits decaying on the side of the road as I pass.  I realize that this is an odd site.  The Vietnamese use everything to it’s fullest potential.  What I would probably waste, they would utilize in daily life.  Further down the road a rusty propaganda sign from another generation perches on a fence.  The simplicity of the painting is beautiful but the message direct: Two children is enough for one family.

We finally give into our feeling of being disorientated and simply take each fork with a flip of a coin.  To the right there is a slight break in the bamboo and old graves can be seen.  We stop and greet a man who is cleaning and repainting the grave of his grandmother who died in 1952.  During Tet, people return to the cemeteries where their loved ones are buried to clean up the graves and burn paper offerings.  He slowly brushed on the watered down red paint with the end of an old broom.  The paint runs down the stone face like a child crying.

A tractor carrying a new tomb drives by.  We follow as they try to negotiate the thick of the trees.  It takes five young men to unload the concrete incasement.  Three older men sit on their father’s tomb and watch.

This scene continues half a dozen times as we drive throughout the province.  A man brings flowers to his one-year-old daughter who died more than 40 years ago.  A woman burns incense for her uncle.  Another man sits quietly with the graves of both his parents.  It’s a sad but happy time.  A time for remembrance.

The sun begins to fade and we have to figure out where we are.  Maps are virtually useless outside the cities.  The major roads are marked but the rest of life that exists in this country isn’t plotted.  Every junction we stop and ask, “Sai Gon o dau?”.  A finger points us down one road after another.

As we make our last turn back on the highway, I see 10 kites floating in the air.  I follow the strings down to a field where I see people sitting on the grass propped against their motorbikes.  We drive into the field and greet them.  The parents smile while watching their children dancing beneath the kites.  Two horses graze nearby unaffected by noise or movement.  The kites themselves are cheap and simple.  They go one way … up.  The string is wrapped around an empty tea bottle.

The honking, the exhaust, the visual pollution of the highway is no more than the length of a soccer field away.  Yet this pasture feels like an oasis.  A breeze picks up shoving the kites to the left towards a set of power lines.  I get a bit nervous as one gets tangled for a short time.  There is some thing interesting about watching a group of people all looking in one direction.  The tendency you have is to look in the same direction as the are.  It’s that human inquisitiveness that is inside all of us.  But instead you are able to sit and stare at them.  Study them.  And do so without the awkwardness that rules of a casual meeting would adhere to.  At this moment I see real happiness in each face.  Perhaps this will only last for a moment.  Perhaps longer.  But it is unmistakable happiness.  And that is what I’d like to think this holiday is truly about.

Happy New Year – Chuc Mung Nam Moi.

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Kevin German is a photographer who lives and works in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.  His column, “The Motorbike Diaries” appears every other Wednesday.  He is a founding member of Luceo.

In four days most of the Western world will be sharing personal moments with loved ones in celebration of Valentines Day.  But in countries who recognize the lunar calendar, February 14 marks the most important day of the year. The Vietnamese New Year, or Tet, is a magical holiday.  The city defaults to a more ...