Hồng’s parents took her out of school in Grade 5. They weren’t facing financial issues, her grades weren’t bad and she had no behavioral setbacks. It was just because she has cerebral palsy.
It was 13 years ago when Christine Ha auditioned for and eventually won the third season of MasterChef US. Christine was a grad student from Texas then, and her victory was a watershed moment in the history of reality TV in the US and even globally. She’s visually impaired, a daughter of Vietnamese immigrants, and has a palate that even established chefs would envy. Back then, everything about Christine’s MasterChef run left an indelible mark on me, a budding food enthusiast from Vietnam, but as I grew older and embarked on my own cooking journey, there’s something about her audition that has always tugged on my heartstrings.
“It’s not something unfamiliar, but it’s been a few years since I last heard it. Stumbling upon this beautiful bucolic scene now has made me fall in love with the Mekong Delta’s đờn ca tài tử melodies again.”
The king cobra, or rắn hổ mang chúa in Vietnamese, has great personal branding. For proof, one need look no further than the recent flower display on Nguyễn Huệ celebrating the Year of the Snake: the largest, most impressive statue bore the telltale hood of a cobra.
Composer Trịnh Công Sơn once wrote: “In music, Văn Cao is as noble as a king. In the field of song composition, I am like a child dreaming that the sun is a paper kite to play with. Brother Văn's music is the music of soaring fairies. I wander among the human realm. He keeps flying and I keep sinking. Flying and sinking in our private destinies...”
From Thương Nhớ Mười Hai to Miếng Ngon Hà Nội , Vũ Bằng’s way of lacing Hanoian features with melancholic reminiscence always brings me straight back to the embrace of my hometown, even more so after I moved to Saigon at age 19. Since then, my writing and social media posts about Hanoi have often been accompanied by quotes “stolen” from his books: “My spring — the spring of northern Vietnam, Hanoi's spring — is a season of gentle misty rain, cool tender winds, the sound of swallows calling all jade-dark night, distant chèo drum beats from distant hamlets with maidens lovely as poems singing timeless love songs.” This was how Vũ Bằng’s oeuvre made its way to my heart.
For nearly a century, lottery tickets and their strings of lucky numbers have occupied a special role in Vietnamese society: both as a lifeline for dreams of better fortune and as a mirror reflecting the socio-economic realities of the times.
Everybody in my university program seems to know Bùi Ngọc Cẩm Phương, though in the music world, she's more popularly known as Ci Pi, a stage name that combines her name’s 2 initials. Be it because of her music or her noticeable Japanese fashion styles, even on campus, Ci Pi’s presence is “vivid” and easy to spot. However, it wasn’t until I knew her personally through a group project that I caught a glimpse of her true self. Despite the edgy appearance with quirky hairstyles and aesthetics, Ci Pi is quiet and calm, and always seems to be immersed in her own world.
Hanoi is often known in Vietnam as the land of a millennium-old civilization, a living archive of past Vietnam life. Each tiny alley within the capital can evoke a strong sense of nostalgia in visitors, as those locations encapsulate both wartime memories and charming quotidien moments. There’s one special place in Hanoi that has contributed to the city’s languid pace of life amid the nation’s rapid developments — khu gia binh.
Firmly taking root in everyday life, our hometown markets — chợ quê — are not simply a place to trade, but also puzzle pieces that make up childhood memories, holiday excitement, and even tales of hardships and life milestones of countless people.
It’s 12:03am in Saigon. You've just finished a movie at the last screening of the day. The asphalt in the parking lot is coated in a layer of golden light from the streetlight. You walk gingerly to your vehicle. A surprisingly cool breeze meets your skin, and you nearly shiver. It’s time to head home. What music do you put on?
“When we finally finished the project, I was just like ‘Yay, we’re done!’ Then I went to sleep to go to work tomorrow. I guess life just goes by like that,” recalled Thông, a member of Coïncidence , regarding when he wrapped up production for the band’s debut EP “Không Ngủ Quên.”