INTRO
Hey everyone, welcome back to the Nuances podcast where we talk about our Asian stories of culture, career and community. I’m your host Lazou, a New American who grew up in the only place the dodo bird ever lived: Mauritius.
I’m super excited to share this Lunar New Year episode with you today because this used to be my favorite holiday as a kid. Growing up, I didn’t really know about any Asian cultures other than South Asian and Chinese, so I knew this holiday as Chinese New Year or Spring Festival (even though it was late summer where I lived). So for this episode, I wanted to take us on a mini world tour to see how this festival is celebrated around the world.
To start, I should clarify that Lunar New Year means different things in different cultures and today we are talking about the one based on the Chinese Lunisolar Calendar. That includes Mongolia, Korea, and Vietnam. Japan’s traditional calendar was also based on the Chinese one but since 1873, all of Japan, except the Ryukyu islands, switched to celebrating New Year on the Gregorian calendar’s Jan 1st like in the West.
Myanmar, Thailand, Cambodia, Laos and Sri Lanka also have a LNY but theirs typically happens in April because their traditional calendars are related to the Hindu calendar, not the Chinese one. So we’ll cover those in another episode. Today, we’ll focus on LNY as it is celebrated in Chinese, Vietnamese, Korean and Mongolian cultures through…you!
A few weeks ago I put out a call for submissions and I’ve received several wonderful voice notes from listeners. The fun thing about this format is that I never know what I’ll receive. Today you’ll hear two submissions from Mongolia, one from Vietnam, one from Korea, and one from me.
As we listen to everyone’s stories, you might notice some recurring themes and rituals that make each celebration unique but also somewhat familiar. Try to make a mental note of them. And if you’re listening and you’re thinking “wait, that’s not how my family celebrates!” and you’d like to share it, send me a voice memo and tell me all about it. 2-3 minutes is plenty. The email is in the show notes. Ok let’s go!
To start, I’d like to introduce you to Buyantogotkh, who goes by Mongolian Nomad Family on social media.
Mongolia: Tsagaan Sar/The White Month
Mongolian Nomad Family (Buyantogotkh Sukhbaatar)
Hello, my name is Buyantogtokh, and I’m from Mongolia.
Today, I want to share what Lunar New Year looks like in my culture, through one of my most meaningful childhood memories.
In Mongolia, Lunar New Year is called Tsagaan Sar, which means “White Moon.”
It symbolizes purity, renewal, and a fresh beginning after a long winter.
Preparation begins weeks before the new year.
Our home would be completely cleaned, but this wasn’t only about the house. Adults believed that entering the new year with a clean heart was just as important. Conflicts were softened, and people tried to forgive each other.
Food was at the center of everything.
My family prepared traditional dumplings called buuz and many dairy foods, like dried curd and clotted cream. White foods represent good luck, abundance, and peace, which is why they are so important during Tsagaan Sar.
As a child, the most magical moment was the night before the new year.
I could never sleep—not because of the celebration, but because of gifts.
When we visited our grandparents, they prepared personalized gifts for every child. Nothing fancy, but always thoughtful.
Lying in bed, I imagined what they chose just for me. That excitement made the night feel endless.
On the morning of Tsagaan Sar, we woke up early and wore our traditional clothing, called a deel.
We greeted our elders through a ritual called zolgokh, where we show respect and receive blessings for health and long life.
As a child, I didn’t fully understand the words, but I felt their warmth. It made me feel protected and deeply connected.
Throughout the day, we visited relatives, starting with the oldest family members.
Every home welcomed us with food arranged in special ways, often stacked in odd numbers, symbolizing life’s journey through challenges and happiness.
By the end of the day, we were tired, full, and smiling.
Today, as a mother, Tsagaan Sar has a deeper meaning.
Now I prepare the food, welcome guests, and choose gifts for children. I finally understand that the tradition isn’t about food or presents—it’s about belonging, respect, and love.
Tsagaan sar teaches us slow down, to honor elders, and care for one another.
No matter how modern life becomes, these traditions remind us who we are and where we come from.
Thank you for listening.
Mongolian with Nona
“Hi everyone, I’m Nona. For us in Mongolia, Lunar New Year isn’t just a holiday on a calendar; it’s Tsagaan Sar (Цагаан Сар), which literally translates to the ‘White Month.’
In our culture, white is the color of purity, of milk, and of a fresh start. It marks the precise moment we transition from the harsh, biting Mongolian winter into the first breath of spring. But before that peace arrives, there is… the work.
The preparation starts weeks in advance. We clean every corner of our homes to sweep away the bad luck of the past year. And then, there are the dumplings. In Mongolia, we eat Buuz (Бууз)—delicious, hand-pinched steamed meat dumplings. If you haven’t pinched at least a thousand dumplings with your family before New Year’s Eve, did you even celebrate? It’s a marathon of flour and laughter.”
“Then comes Bituun (Битүүн), or New Year’s Eve. This is the ‘dark’ night before the new moon, and the goal is simple: to be as full as possible. We believe that if you end the year with a full stomach, the coming year will be prosperous and ‘full’ as well.
The table is a sight to behold. We have the Uuts—a large, fatty sheep’s back that takes center stage. Next to it is the Heviin Boov (Хэвийн Боов), a towering stack of traditional long biscuits. We stack them in odd-numbered layers—three, five, or seven—to represent the cycle of life’s joys and sorrows, always ending on a layer of happiness which is odd.
But it’s not just about us. Just before dinner, we place three pieces of ice outside our door. This is for the mule of Baldan Lkham, a wrathful Buddhist protector deity. We believe she visits every household on this night to protect the family and remove obstacles, and we want her mule to be refreshed for the journey.”
“On the first morning of the New Year, the sun rises on a very specific set of rituals. We dress in our finest Deels (Дээл)—our traditional silk tunics. Before we even eat breakfast, many families perform ‘Mur gargah’ (Мөр гаргах)—taking their first steps of the year in a specific direction dictated by the lunar calendar to ensure good luck.
Then, the most beautiful part happens: the Zolgoh (Золгох) greeting. This is how we say hello to our elders. A younger person places their arms under the older person’s arms, gently supporting their elbows. It’s a physical way of saying, ‘I am here to support you, just as you have supported me.’
As we do this, we ask, ‘Amar baihnooh?’(Амар байна уу?)—which means, ‘Are you living in peace?’ It’s not just a ‘how are you’; it’s a deep wish for their well-being.”
“After the family breakfast, the marathon begins. We visit the oldest relatives first, then move from house to house. At every single stop, you are offered more Buuz, more milk tea, and more hospitality.
One of my favorite traditions is the gift-giving. When you leave a relative’s house, the host gives you a gift to thank you for the visit. But there’s a rule: you don’t open it right there! You wait until you are in a private place or back at home to see what you received. It keeps the focus on the connection and the visit itself, rather than the material object.
By the end of the third day, your stomach is full, your hands are full of gifts, and your heart is full of your community.”
“Tsagaan Sar is about more than just food; it’s about the strength of the family bond and the hope that, no matter how cold the winter was, spring is finally here.
Thank you for letting me share a piece of Mongolia with you. Happy Tsagaan Sar, and we say: Saikhan Shineleerei! (Сайхан шинэлээрэй!)
Korea: Seollal
Er-Gene Kahng
Growing up, Lunar New Year was a special time. We had a mixture of Christian, Buddhist and Confucius beliefs, but every year, the Korean ancestral rite of Jesa would bring us together. It was a time where all of our extended families would gather, pay our respects to our ancestors and one another, reinforce ritual, and provide a space to reflect on the past and project our hopes for the new year.
Special dishes were prepared (often devoid of spice) with the tops of fruits shaved so that the aroma of the fruits could lead the spirit to their meal. Accompanying the meal would be a ritualized sequence of greetings, reflections, incense burning and soju drinking, interspersed and bookended with our full bows, from the most senior members of the families paying their respects, trickling down to the youngest members. At the mid-point of the ceremony, there would be a moment where we would kneel in silence while our ancestors would enjoy their meal. Such moments (as well as the ceremony as a whole) allowed us to imagine a reality that was well beyond what we could see or verify with our own senses, creating a vast space for our imaginations to roam, but also anchoring us in a sense of interconnected-ness between the material and immaterial world.
The physical act of bowing – not just folding your waist forward, but a full bow, from standing to folding down to all fours, a full child’s pose – is an incredibly humbling and powerful embodiment of deference, selflessness and offering. It is a position of complete giving and surrender. Jesa would give us this earmarked time to practice, experience and offer these full bows to our ancestors, to our family members, but also to ourselves. Being able to embody so much in something so simple has always remained with me as one of my lasting memories and nostalgia of Jesa and Lunar New Year.
Vietnam: Tết
Michelle
My family is Vietnamese Chinese. I remember growing up in Vietnam every Lunar New Year, we would celebrate with our neighbors, mostly kids around my age. Since we had about nine days off from school, we would hang out every day, play cards, and gamble with other kids using our lucky money (red envelope money). We played bầu cua cá ngựa, a combination of two traditional games—bầu cua cá cọp (gourd, crab, shrimp, fish) and a horse racing game.
This was the only time my parents allowed me to gamble and stay up past my bedtime. Don’t worry—we gambled responsibly! We were good kids who worked hard and played hard. When lunchtime came around, we would gather in the living room and share food. My mom’s go-to dishes every year were thịt kho trứng (braised pork and eggs), bánh tét (Vietnamese cylindrical sticky rice cake), and nian gao (year cake) to finish off the meal. She would cook in a huge pot that lasted several days, since most food vendors and restaurants were closed for Lunar New Year.
Friends and relatives would gift each other boxes of soda (popular choices included Coca-Cola, Pepsi, and Fanta), beer (Saigon Beer, Heineken, Tiger, 333), and mứt (candied fruits, candied coconut, etc.). My mom would take me to visit our extended family and relatives, so we could exchange New Year wishes with the elders before receiving red envelopes.
Ever since I moved to the U.S. more than 15 years ago, we haven’t put much effort into celebrating Lunar New Year because everyone has school or work, and we don’t get extended time off like in Asia. Although several states in the U.S. have recognized Lunar New Year as a public holiday, I really think we should push for it to become a US federal holiday.
Mauritius: Chinese New Year/Spring Festival
Growing up in a Hakka Chinese family in Mauritius, Chinese New Year was a big deal. In fact, Mauritius is the only African country where lunar new year is a statutory pubic holiday. Most of the Chinese people in Mauritius are both Buddhist and Christian, which makes my experience pretty syncretic. Not unlike Er-Gene’s.
In the weeks leading up to CNY, preparations would be in full swing. That’s often when we would deep clean windows and power wash the outside of the house. Our equivalent of spring cleaning I guess but in the hot and muggy summer. We’re not supposed to clean on the first day of the year, because it would sweep away all the good luck that the new year is bringing. So we make sure the house is spotless for the new year!
We’d also be putting in orders for New Year cakes we call Tiam Pan. These are made with glutinous rice flour and caramelized orange peels, steamed for 4-6 hours. In addition to having some for ourselves, we would order extras to give as gifts to our non-Chinese friends and colleagues at work or school. In Mauritian Creole, we would call it Gato La Cire (or Wax cake) because it hardens into a waxy texture.
On the eve of the new year, I remember waking up a little earlier than usual and after getting our school uniforms on, my brother and I would join my parents on the terrace where my dad would have already set up a table with offerings of a steamed chicken, 5 glasses of wine, and other offerings of fruit, dried calamari, two red candles, all facing the sun. This service, we call “kin sin” is to thank the gods for the year that is coming to an end.
He would light up sticks of incense, then, holding them with both hands, he’d say a quiet prayer. Once he’s done, he would bow three times and pass the incense to the next oldest person. Mom, myself, and my brother would follow his steps and once we had all paid our respects, the food would be considered blessed. We’d put it away to have later, and off to school we went.
That evening, we would have dinner with dad’s side of the family.
It would typically be a potluck. It is recommended to have at least one fish dish, as fish brings good luck.
Since my dad has many siblings who each have kids more or less of the same age as my brother and I, it was always guaranteed fun, but also, a good pay day. Because each of the households would give every kid a little red envelope we called fong pao with money in it. After filling our bellies with delicious food and our pockets with money, it was time for the real fun.
Firecrackers.
Unlike in the West, Mauritian Chinese kids had free access to firecrackers and fireworks. All kinds of them. Every Chinese household would have a long roll of firecrackers. The longer the better. That one would be saved for last, and throughout the night, you would hear these going off all around the country. Around midnight, especially, it would just be firecrackers one after the other for a good 15-20 minutes in our neighborhood. If you’ve never experienced those firecrackers, I’ll put a video link on the blog.
We all wish each other Kung Shee Fat Choy, which is sort of happy new year, but if you’ve seen Ronnie Cheng’s comedy special, you’ll know that it really means I wish you prosperity in the new year. I hope you get rich.
When we were teenagers, it became common for everyone to go clubbing. There were regular clubs but also Chinese social clubs where it was an all ages party. So, parents, grand parents and kids could be seen dressed to the nines, dancing through the night. As I got older, I went to separate parties from my parents and would often stay out till dawn with my cousins and friends.
In the morning, we’d come home to the streets covered in red paper flakes and the familiar smell of the firecrackers. It wasn’t over yet though. I’d have just enough time to take a good long shower and have a quick snack before donning my scout uniform and going to church to help set up for mass. It was the one day of the year that our church had mass in Chinese. I say Chinese because I can’t remember if it was Hakka or Mandarin. My mom tells me it is in Hakka, Mandarin AND Cantonese. Either way I didn’t understand a word. My Hakka vocab is very, VERY limited. After mass, we’d help serve snacks before going home to crash.
It is customary on New Year’s day to eat vegetarian, so my mom would always make her signature vegetarian stir fried vermicelli noodles with wood ear mushrooms, carrots, celery, shiitake mushrooms.
In the following days or weeks, we would visit elders in our very large extended family and wish them happy new year. Especially those on my mom’s side as CNY dinners are always with my dad’s side of the family.
Sometimes, CNY would fall on a Thursday, and our parents would let us skip Friday, which was the absolute best. Since Mauritius has amazing beaches and resorts, many Chinese families would stay at a hotel for a few days. This is really the one time of the year when most Chinese business owners allowed themselves some time off to relax. Since my dad worked at a hotel, this was the last thing he wanted to do, understandably.
Now, if any of you speak Hakka, you might be thinking I say these words funny. I KNOW. My family has been in Mauritius for generations, so our version of the language is sort of a time capsule of what it was like at the time of that wave of migration from China.
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