At the age of 84, Mrs. Ngo still has a bright smile that radiates a lively joy for life. From the pomelo flowers of early spring, through the bountiful jasmine and lotus flowers of the tropical summer, to the chilly daisies that herald Tet, she artfully blends and infuses each season’s floral scents into the deep, familiar taste of tea.

Mrs. Nguyen Thi Ngo has a generous and open personality, living in harmony with her family, neighbors, and the dwindling group of old friends in her community. Whatever she is doing, her work is quick, bold, decisive, and clear with little thought for her own benefit. Her philosophy is that a better tomorrow is always on the horizon; just keep going, be happy, and do what needs to be done.

I first met Ngo almost 15 years ago and liked her – was impressed by her – from the very start. Over the years, our connection has developed from a business to a personal relationship, and I find myself thinking frequently about her life.

Born in 1942, the young Ngo lived on Hang Chao Street in Hanoi’s Old Quarter where she would help with her brother’s family business in the crowded, bustling streets of the French colonial capital. Later, as a young adult, she went to work at the Minh Khai textile factory located just outside the city limits.

In 1968, Ms. Ngo, then 26 years old, got married to her long-term love, waiting patiently for him to return safely from the battlefields of the South. Together they moved from the city to his home village of Quang Ba in Tay Ho (West Lake). Far removed from today’s urban landscape of luxury hotels, upmarket villas, apartments, bars and restaurants, West Lake in the 1960s was remote and sparsely populated. Winding tracks ran alongside the ill-defined shoreline of the vast, seemingly endless waters of the lake. Houses were few and far between. The journey to Quang Ba which ran past Hoang An pagoda was lined with rows of tall, sturdy green bamboo and clumps of water spinach planted at the water’s edge.

Each day, Ngo would cycle from her house to the Minh Khai factory, more than 10km away. It was an arduous ride but a necessary one. There was no work for her at home, and these were difficult times in Vietnam which everyone needed to share. The route through Yen Phu was a regular target for bombing raids. Whenever the sirens wailed, the bike had to be abandoned, and refuge sought in the closest cellar to avoid explosion and potential death. There were times when she needed to work overtime where it was close to midnight and pitch black before returning to the familiarity of the lake. Only the croaking of frogs and the wind rustling through creaking bamboo trees kept her company as she pedaled home alone.

The villages around West Lake were largely quiet and peaceful at the time. Each had its own traditions and occupations established over many generations: Yen Phu village raised ornamental fish and plants; Nghi Tam village grew mulberry trees, raised silkworms, and wove silk; Nhat Tan village grew peaches and flowers; Quang Ba village raised fish, grew lotus and water spinach.

In Quang Ba village, Ngo’s family built a dyke and created a pond to stock with fish and lotus plants. Here the lotus served a dual purpose, first in providing cover to help prevent the theft of fish, and second in producing delightful flowers to sell during the blooming season. Coincidentally, nature had bestowed these ponds with the perfect soil for cultivating the hundred- petal lotus flower – a wonderfully fragrant and elegant bloom concealing the countless small white rice grains (or anthers) responsible for purest and most enchanting of beguiling fragrances.

It was extremely rare for any family in Quang Ba to scent lotus tea at the time. Most did not have the resources to buy the tea required for blending in the first place. To find and enjoy lotus scented tea would require a trip into the city.

In 1983, Ms. Ngo retired from her factory job to stay home, take care of the family (she had three children) and carry out any other jobs she could handle, such as transporting goods, catching fish, and growing vegetables. Once the lotus season had finished, she would go to the pond to cut lotus leaves to dry them for the fire. At this time of year, the village resembled a drying lotus leaves festival, the smell of drying leaves strikingly different from the freshness of summer growth.

By the early 1990s, the country had entered the renovation period as the economy adapted to market principles. In the village, representatives from 12 families applied to cultivate 24 ponds, taking care to raise fish and grow lotus. Ms. Ngo and her husband participated at Dam Tri and Chua ponds. In the 4th to 7th months of the lunar calendar, when the lotus season came, each family contributed one person to wake up at first light to pick lotus flowers, and another to deliver the freshly cut flowers to the city.

Around 7 am, Ngo would tie hundreds of lotus flowers to the back of her bike, put on her conical hat (nón lá), and cycle to the city with the other women of the village. When she first started selling lotus, she would sit at Dong Xuan market, alongside jasmine and rosebud stalls from Dai Yen and Ngoc Ha villages. Other times flowers were delivered to Hang Luoc flower market where demand for lotus was high. Hanoians in the past loved to display flowers in each season, especially on the 1st and 15th of the lunar month. Families would buy a bunch of lotus flowers to place on the altar or in the middle of the house to enjoy the benefit of their fragrant scent.

Customers at the market who blended their own lotus tea relied increasingly on the girls selling flowers to separate the ‘rice’ for them. Their hands skilled at separating the flowers quickly and lightly. Over time, Ngo was asked to deliver lotus directly to customers’ homes. Her bicycle could carry between 200 and 300 flowers around the crowded streets. They were then carried over the shoulder along twisting alleys, up narrow staircases, through tiny shops and to more imposing grander houses.

This would become Ngo’s apprenticeship as a lotus tea blender. She remembers many of the people she worked with and learned from with affection. She was happy to share her fondest memories.

Mrs. Bay lived in Ngo Gach Alley. She was very beautiful with the looks of a westerner, her nose high and straight. All the family were highly educated, knowledgeable, and well-spoken; many had studied and lived abroad. The family had a long tradition of lotus tea blending. At full moon, on the first day of the lunar month, at Tet, and on clear, cool nights when the house is peaceful, Bay liked to sit and sip a good cup of tea, often alone, sometimes with her children and grandchildren.

Mrs. Nguyen Ninh’s house and business were large. A bustling enterprise which attracted many visitors. Ninh was renowned as a capable and resourceful individual. Everything she did was done methodically according to meticulous rules, from daily business to managing the family. Her house sold green rice, jasmine tea, lotus tea, and the best cakes on the road from Hang Than street. She regularly ordered many lotus flowers, often requiring 2-3 people to separate the flowers during the morning. The task had a strict deadline and allowed no time for a break. The reward, however, was a delicious green rice cake once the job was completed.

Mr. Xi Mau – a Chinese man also living in Ngo Gach – orders flower delivery only. Xi Mau was an efficient businessman who sold many kinds of tea. But he insisted on only hiring young men and boys to handle the lotus flowers. Ngo and other women are never offered any work. He spends all his time working, refusing to socialize and never getting married.

Mrs. Chinh Ky, also known as Mrs. Hien, lives at 23 Hang Bo. She is as beautiful as a fairy descended from heaven. A slender figure and kind face, with deep eyes and a high, elegant nose. She walked gently and gracefully, calmly listening and answering every question. Chinh Ky was the person who ordered the most lotus flowers from Ngo and the person with whom she developed the deepest relationship.

She told the story: “I don’t know exactly when lotus tea was first made, it was already there during the French colonial period. Following the tradition of my family, I arranged and displayed flowers and learned to make this elaborate tea in the early 1930’s. Before 1954, buying and selling tea was very easy, just go to the street and buy it, but during the collective period it was much more difficult. If you were discovered carrying 1kg of tea you would be arrested”.

“There was no Thai Nguyen tea, they mainly sold fresh tea, at the time. We would buy Ha Giang tea in sacks, with long, dusty leaves or pressed into large cakes. It cannot be blended right away as the tea leaves are old and need to be steamed to soften them and reduce the bitterness. Each stem is separated by hand, dried and left to rest for a while. From 10kg of tea we would select about 3-4kg suitable for blending.”

Ngo is forever thankful for Chinh Ky’s expert guidance, which she was able to put to good use in her later career as a flower tea blender. She was a patient teacher who respected the need to learn at the right pace. The importance of understanding each step of preparing tea, separating ‘rice’, the rate of blending, how to dry correctly and the number of cycles required to reach perfection. And how perseverance, meticulousness and persistence were at the heart of mastering the blending art. Ngo admits she owes much to Chinh Ky as a teacher and a second mother.

Today, the soul of lotus tea in Vietnam is inextricably linked with West Lake (Tay Ho) as both the source of lotus flowers and as the centre of blending expertise. Many tea blending businesses set up there as the area developed and the love of lotus tea expanded. Ngo and her family were one of the original 12 households to develop the craft and her enthusiasm remains as strong today: “I’m over 80 years old; I can make tea every day. It has been an important part of my life. As long as I’m alive, I will continue to do so.”

On cool days, she can still be found riding her bike around West Lake to visit friends, often carrying tea with her to make and share.

Her strong love and affinity with her adopted environment is obvious. As we sat on a set of steps near her hosue, she told me: “This lake has been responsible for feeding countless people. Without it, we would not be the people we are today.”

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This is an English translation of an article originally posted in Vietnamese at https://teawithngoc.blog/2025/07/07/nguoi-thoi-hon-sen-vao-tra/