IELTS Speaking – Lễ hội & Dịp kỷ niệm

It's undoubtedly Tet, the Lunar New Year. It usually falls in late January or February, and it's the time when everyone returns to their hometown to be with family. People clean and decorate their houses, visit relatives and give lucky money to children. For most Vietnamese people, it's the highlight of the whole year.

I usually keep it quite low-key. My family normally has a special dinner at home, and my mum makes my favourite dishes. Then, at the weekend, I go out for dinner or karaoke with a few close friends. I'm not a big fan of huge parties, so a relaxed evening with people I care about suits me perfectly.

To be honest, only in small doses. I enjoy the atmosphere of a big celebration for an hour or two, especially weddings, where there's lots of food and music. But after a while, I find the noise and crowds quite draining, and I start looking forward to going home. I'm much more comfortable at small gatherings.

Definitely the Mid-Autumn Festival. As a child, I couldn't wait for it every year. My parents would buy me a star-shaped lantern, and I'd parade around the neighbourhood with other kids in the evening. We'd also eat mooncakes and watch lion dances. It's still a festival that fills me with nostalgia.

The celebration I'd like to describe is my grandparents' fiftieth wedding anniversary, which we celebrated about a year ago. It took place at my grandparents' house in a village in Thai Binh province, where they've lived their whole married life. Since the house isn't very big, my uncles put up a large tent in the front yard and hired tables and chairs, so it ended up feeling like a cross between a family reunion and a village festival. Around eighty people came, including relatives from all over the country and lots of neighbours. The preparations started days before. On the day itself, the women in the family spent the whole morning cooking a huge feast, while the younger ones like me decorated the yard with flowers and lanterns. In the afternoon, there was a short ceremony where my grandparents lit incense at the family altar to honour their ancestors. Then everyone sat down to eat, and there were speeches from my eldest uncle and from one of my grandfather's oldest friends. Later, the grandchildren performed a few songs, and my cousins and I put together a slideshow of old photos, which made a lot of people laugh and a few people cry. The reason it was so special for me is that it made me realise what a remarkable achievement fifty years together is. During the slideshow, my grandmother told the story of how they met during very difficult times after the war, when they had almost nothing. Hearing that, I felt incredibly proud and grateful, because everything our family has today comes from their hard work. It was also lovely to see four generations in one place, which rarely happens nowadays. It's a day I'll remember for the rest of my life.

To some extent, yes. Many festivals have become increasingly commercialised, so the focus has shifted towards shopping, gifts and decorations rather than their spiritual or family meaning. During Tet, for example, some young people now see it mainly as a long holiday and travel abroad instead of visiting relatives. However, I don't think the original meaning has disappeared. Most families still gather together, honour their ancestors and follow traditional customs. In a way, festivals have always evolved over time, so perhaps it's natural that they adapt to modern lifestyles while keeping their core values.

In my country, I think social pressure is a major factor. A wedding is seen as a reflection of the family's status, so many parents feel they have to invite hundreds of guests and hire an expensive venue to avoid losing face. There's also a sense that it's a once-in-a-lifetime event, so couples want everything to be perfect. Social media has made this even stronger, because people compare their weddings with the glamorous ones they see online. Personally, I think it's a shame when couples start married life in debt, but I understand why it happens.

I think it's quite valuable, as long as it's done with respect. Taking part in other cultures' festivals, like Christmas or Diwali, can help people understand different traditions and become more open-minded, which matters a lot in a globalised world. It's also simply fun and a great way to bring communities together. However, there's a risk that people celebrate only the surface, like decorations and parties, without learning what the festival actually means. And I don't think it should come at the expense of our own traditions. Ideally, it should broaden our perspective rather than replace our heritage.

It's a mixed picture, I'd say. On the one hand, public holidays boost certain sectors, such as tourism, retail and restaurants, because people have time to travel and spend money. In Vietnam, for example, hotels and airlines are often fully booked around national holidays. On the other hand, factories and offices lose working days, which can reduce productivity. However, there's evidence that rested workers are more productive afterwards, so the loss may be smaller than it seems. Overall, I believe a reasonable number of holidays benefits both the economy and people's wellbeing.