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As a person who loves to travel, I am addicted to the pleasure of sending postcards to friends. But unlike the cards scribbled in a few minutes at a roadside post office or while waiting for a plane, Christmas is the occasion for me to stay, sit down slowly to make colorful cards and write the most heartfelt words of love. Because for a long time, I secretly considered Christmas as an important holiday of the year, although officially, Christmas has no mark on the Vietnamese calendar.
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The religious people were enthusiastic, but even an atheist like me did not miss this opportunity to buy some small pieces of paper, a roll of colored silk ribbon and force myself to pull out the paintbrushes from the drawer. I often wrote, drew whatever came to my mind with the hope that the recipient would love a part of my thoughts at that moment. Like a kind of telepathy painted with colors.
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The idea came a few years ago when two German friends who stayed behind couldn’t find a Christmas card with the correct spelling along Hang Gai Street and decided to make me one from a candy box. Their treasure trove consisted of a few candies left over from previous outings, a cake bought from the grocery store at the corner of the alley, and many greetings in different languages that they had picked up during their ten-month journey. We shared the candy that morning, and the box disappeared after a few house moves. But the habit of exchanging cards had become an unscheduled friendship ritual between us.
Feelings are not enough if they are just wrapped up shyly. People always need flowers, gifts, hugs, kisses and sweet words. Perhaps that is why holidays praising love, even borrowed ones like Christmas, are never redundant for the Vietnamese.
