Everybody has gone from our neighbourhood. Nearly everybody. At Tet those with family in the Mekong or other provinces make the journey to their hometown by bus, truck or moped, their belongings lashed to their back. The street stalls near us have a few traders remaining who sell last minute melons ( a traditional New year fruit) and a few more forlorn sellers of Tet trees, sit beside their yet to be foliated trees, like Bonsais after a nuclear winter. Generally though the run up to Tet was filled with laughter, of delightful expectation - the sourness of city life sweetened by the promise of a lucky and prosperous New Year. This is THE, and for some the only, holiday of the year and the streets became quickly deserted today as elaborate meals were prepared and the sound of the Karaoke began to blare. So, for once the megaphones which stand at intervals along the road and which broadcast reminders of civic duty are drowned out by the surge of sentimental songs that grow louder as the day falls to darkness.
