The tour schedule called for casual clothes and readiness for any unexpected weather, so of course I wore red chiffon. In retrospect, I feel it was appropriate for the bourgie-est thing I have
ever done. And despite the 104 degree heat index (chiffon breathes darlings! and it really is
so versatile...), it was a lot of fun. Thankfully our guide explained that through this experience, we would learn why tea (at least top shelf oolong tea) is so expensive. Thank god for that! because we would never want to reflect upon the origins of our food or the conditions of its production, but we can always use a lesson on labor cost, for apparently there are some things that one cannot learn from microeconomics. I never would have guessed.
The expedition to Wen Shan tea farm was organized by my school and about 25 of us showed up. It was a good opportunity to meet a few of my classmates and to behold, for the first time in nearly 5 years of working in the tea business,
camellia sinensis in all its leafy glory. The tour itself was rather boring.
The guide spoke too fast and mostly related anecdotes, like the one about the Korean tourists that refused to cross the rope bridge, or talked about local flora and fauna by way of tormenting innocent little lizards. The tea picking season occurs in the cooler months of the year, so while this was a good time to get a tour, the plants were in bad shape. The Wen Shan region is famous for producing a very light, almost green oolong called Bao Zhong, which does not require the high altitudes of a Tung Ting or Ali Shan. Still, the surrounding area was lovely
You can see rows of tea at the bottom. Here's a closer look
After circling the grounds, we were all given hats and baskets and a brief introduction to what a healthy, mature tea leaf looks like, and released into the farm to do a little picking ourselves
What we gathered (minus what I stashed in my bag for later pressing and fetishization) was emptied into a large bamboo tray, where it would start to air-dry. Tea in the last stages off this was starting to wilt and to give off the tell-tale aroma of Bao Zhong.
Following the air-drying, the tea was chucked into these frightening looking machines for what is referred to as 'frying'
The irony of explaining how heat causes organic objects to become limp and malleable was not lost on us as the temperature neared its afternoon peak, and I don't know that anyone was paying attention as the guide explained the processes of twisting and splitting, or the last stage of drying. We perked up quite a bit, however, after being ushered into an air conditioned 'tea classroom' to learn about the Chinese art of making tea, 泡茶 (
pao cha). Although I hadn't told anyone about my tea experience, I was somehow elected to make tea for my table. I was so enraptured at being called upon to serve that I didn't notice one of the teachers taking pictures of me.
It must be like after a pilot is retired and then one day there is a 'does anybody know how to fly a plane?' situation and when she gets up to the cockpit all those old instruments feel as natural in her hands as extensions of her own body, or when a musician picks up an old instrument and his fingers go directly and unconsciously to the old familiar positions.
Yep, there is something kind of strange about the old
habitus - when your body is directed by its own knowledge and memory and can entirely bypass the conscious mind. I can see how the applicability of this to tea-making might not be entirely obvious, but, trust me, there is a lot of skill and equipment involved!
Anyhow, phenomenological musings aside, the tea was tasty, and enjoyed by all. The storm broke as we were sipping, which made getting back to the bus kind of messy, but also made the area look a lot more like I had imagined:
Tea, much like myself, is not keen on a great deal of sun.
Our next, brief, stop was at Wulai Scenic Area, home of famous hot springs and aboriginal Atayal crafts. The scenery was really quite beautiful
and I enjoyed strolling along the pedestrian-only village main street
but I was kind of irritated that we really didn't have time for a proper visit to the hot springs or to the nearby 80km waterfall. Happily, the townspeople were wonderfully friendly and I didn't know how much I needed to get out of the city until I realized how entirely pleasant it was just to walk around appreciating nature and breathing in fresh, clean air.
The ride home was beautiful and reminded me a great deal of the long, meandering bus ride Carrie and I took through Laos (only with fewer methamphetamine-fueled bus drivers and cats meowing from the rooftop). Thankfully, my tragic lack of exposure to the cinematic tour de force that is Shrek III was remedied along the way.
And then we were back in Taipei, a city which I worry that I may have mistakenly portrayed as kind of a 3rd world backwater, when in reality it is a shiny, expensive, highly-developed city. See for yourself
This is the view from the 10th - 12th floor Japanese garden at the brand new SOGO department store.
And this is from the Nanjing Rd. MRT station. I heart rapid transit.
It certainly felt that way when I ran across this comics convention on my campus this weekend. It seems manga is popular in Taiwan too, and that lots of kids are very into dressing up as their favorite characters. They didn't even seem to notice that it was a humid 93 degrees outside (although honestly, I've kind of stopped noticing too), because they were just too busy being absolutely adorable.
Although I preferred to get candid shots, everyone was posing and patiently having their pictures taken by the swarms of kids and handful of grown-ups armed with cameras and camera phones. I can't imagine what it was like inside the convention.
I don't know that these pictures adequately illustrate the amount of variety, but the costumes were all over the place. Historical, futuristic, sexy, sad, human, elven, triangle-headed, film-inspired, and just really, really cute. That settles it. I must be in Japan.
