A Tea Addict's Journal

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Traveling in China

June 21, 2007 · 10 Comments

These days, wherever you go in China, as long as the hotel is semi-decent it is bound to come with a water boiler, of the cheap plastic kind. This one I’m staying at is no exception. Except, the hotel is fairly new and the water boiler still smells a bit like plastic. Also, they don’t have real glasses here. Instead, I get this:

The white cup is detachable from the base — in fact, it’s just a regular plastic cup slipped into a handle of some sort. It’s not very elegant, nor ideal for tea sipping, but since I wanted to travel light and not carry around a big load of teaware, this will have to do. The stains are from the previous tea that’s still in the cup.

I only took two teas with me on this trip – the Assam that Mr. Lochan gave me, and a Lapsang Souchong. I tried both in the plastic cup by now, and I must say I like the Lapsang Souchong better. It’s got a nice sweet aftertaste and mellows out evenly as infusions go on, whereas drinking the Assam, I really feel the lack of milk was making the tea less enjoyable than it could be. The tea is more bitter, and doesn’t quite turn sweet in later infusions the way the LS does. I think this has much to do with the intended market for such teas, and the preferences of the target audience. A tea like LS will not sell well in China if it doesn’t turn sweet, whereas the way this LS is is probably a touch too light to go with milk.

I think this might also account for the way the Indian Oolongs behave. They brew a bright, strong introduction, but then fades fairly quickly as infusions go on. I think they’re probably just not meant to be drunk that way at all, and drinking it Chinese style is probably not “getting” the tea. Perhaps if stuck in a big porcelain teapot, with some scones on the side, they will beat any Chinese oolong brewed the same way.

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Beijing

June 20, 2007 · 3 Comments

One of the questions I get asked most often is — what do you actually do in Beijing besides drinking tea? What I do is really quite boring (historical research on some obscure topic that nobody cares about), but where I do it is perhaps slightly more interesting.

Since my work involves a lot of flipping through dirty, dusty, poorly catalogued and a few hundred years old documents, guarded by staff that are only rarely friendly, the work is not always pleasant. The trip to the archives, however, can be somewhat pleasant, if the weather’s nice.

I get off the subway at Tiananmen West, which is, as the name implies, on the West side of the Tiananmen Square. On the one side, it’s the Tiananmen.

But in the opposite corner, there’s the very out of place Eggshell

Which is going to be the new National Opera House.

It might be an interesting caveat here to say that the Tiananmen is NOT the entrance to the Forbidden Palace… to get in, you have to walk through the Duanmen (seen from Tiananmen)

And then you’ll see the entrance — the Wumen (Meridian Gate), as viewed from the Duanmen.

It all looks rather small, but if you look here, you can see the buliding actually cuts an imposing figure.

But I don’t get to walk through these places to go in to the archives. Instead, I go through the side — walking down a rather pleasant street

After a few minutes, I get to see the gate that I do get to walk through, the Xihuamen

Which is across the moat for the Forbidden City — it’s not that obvious when you go through the front

In the first picture — those tall buildings right behind the wall are the archives, where I go look at my dusty documents.

Inside… you can still see the old buildings, but parts that one doesn’t get to see when you pay the entrance fee.

The building on the left is the archives, and the wall on the right circles some of the quarters that are for palace workers…. not even people who are related to the Emperor in any way. To give you an idea of the scale of the thing… the grey part of the wall is about 2 meters high. The distance is, of course, quite far.

They are doing some serious renovations for the palace these days, partly to get ready for the flood of inevitable visitors during the 2008 Olympics. There are lots of building materials stacked up, and in the back — the draped over roof of the Hall of Great Harmony, which is the biggest building in the complex.

So that’s what I do everyday, until recently anyway. Now I’m sitting in a hotel room in Shenyang, the old Manchu capital, with very unreliable internet, having just dealt with even less friendly archivists here. Oh well.

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Market fragmentation

June 17, 2007 · 5 Comments

I went to Maliandao today, and saw my friend L who came up from Shanghai. I think he had some business to deal with.

He did bring something good, supposedly, anyway. It’s a sample of a Yellow Label from, ostensibly, the 70s. We tried it… nice, but in almost the exact same way that my loose GYG pieces are nice. They taste virtually identical. I’m sure the person who got the Yellow Label cake paid many multiples of what I paid for my pieces. It was a happy thing to know.

I also tried a number of other things, both at L’s store and elsewhere. They include an 03 Yiwu that’s been in Yiwu storage, which is reputably pretty wet and which shows when I tried the tea — there’s a sort of mustiness to it. I also had an 07 “rainfall” (aka summer) Yiwu maocha. Very bland, relatively speaking. Pleasant enough to drink, but not good enough for anything else. There’s a reason summer teas are used for cooked puerh. In fact, I think it’s a waste to bother to pick them – the taste is boring and flat, despite long infusions and generous amounts of leaves. It was definitely interesting to try though. I also had a mass production cake from Zhongcha this year. Smells nice, decent aromas, but a little too aromatic and too little bitterness for me to feel like I’m drinking young puerh.

Then I went on to the store that sells Douji puerh. I tried two things there. One was their 06 Fall “Yu Pin”, which literally means “jade product”, but is from the fringes of the Bulang area. Another cake is a self-produced cake by the owner of the store, who went to Yunnan this spring to press the tea himself (500 cakes of it) and who doesn’t really sell it except as gift packs. The cake is a Guafeng Zhai spring first flush. He pairs it with a real Lao Banzhang, and the set sells for a staggering $330 USD. Not cheap by any stretch of imagination, but then, he had high costs as well as real financial backing (I think tea is entirely a side business for him — he runs some other company). The teas were collected at above-market rates, and he only used first flush tea. The Guafeng Zhai tea is nice, but somehow, I don’t think it’s spectacularly nice to demand such high sums. I mean, it’s got good qi, but only so so huigan and not a lot of throatiness. I’ve read that sometimes for puerh it is better not to use first flush, which is sometimes too tender. Perhaps that explains the relatively subdued nature of the tea. The qi lasted a good bit, and the tea made my stomach hurt, but really… a lot of teas can do that for far less money. He also used an extremely generous amount of tea, which makes me think it has something to do with the strength involved.

One interesting tidbit the owner of this store told me today though is that he’s tried a number of 07 teas so far, and he thinks they are all weaker compared to the 06 version. There’s been talk that because of low rainfall, the tea this spring should be better, but he thinks that when rainfall gets too low… the tea suffers in quality. He might have a point. I haven’t really seen an 07 cake thus far that has made me feel like it’s worth buying. Prices for cakes this year are also much higher than those of years past, simply because the raw materials have gotten so much more expensive. When a lot of 03-05 cakes can be had for less money, why buy 07? It makes almost no sense to do so.

He also told me that many factories are pulling in tea leaves from other provinces to cut cost as well as to keep production going. After all, the total capacity for producing puerh in Yunnan right now has far outstripped the supply of raw maocha in Yunnan, especially given the low production yields this spring (one reason why maocha prices are up, supposedly, and also why a lot of factories haven’t produced much 07 teas yet). Like the story I posted about a week ago of Li Jing, who started a factory but has received few orders, most factories need to make tea to stay alive. Overcapacity, however, is a real problem, and I think many such small factories will be heading for a fall. What that might mean for the owners of such factories… who knows.

Right now there’s a lot of uncertainty in the market. If you’re a bull, you will cite the fact that puerh is still 1) very cheap, relatively speaking. 2) It’s only popular in the coastal cities. 3) Brands are still forming. 4) The tea’s inherent advantages, like rebrewability, ageability, etc. If you’re a bear, then you’ll cite 1) overproduction/capacity. 2) High, bubble like prices. 3) Unpalability when young. 4) Extremely volatile market.

How it goes only time will tell, but I think we’re seeing now a healthy segmentation/fragmentation of the market going on, with real consequences for us regular buyers. On the one hand, you have the big factories producing regular stuff that are, more or less, known items. Menghai and the like are prime examples of that. On the other hand, you have these small, boutique shops that make high priced teas catering to the wealthy and (perhaps) knowledgable. These are the ones with very well defined terroir, limited quantities, and high prices to go with it. These are also shops that can’t possibly do this on a grand scale for simple reason of economy and supply.

One huge problem though is that nobody, as far as I know, has good access to a steady source of such tea production areas. Everybody who is in the business rely very much on contacts in Yunnan, trying to score good maocha from the farmers. The way land ownership and production works in such areas is that nobody can buy out a whole mountain — the most I’ve heard of is somebody securing the promise of local farmers to only sell to him. Even that is difficult to enforce/police, and creates problems for a sustained level of quality, especially in a difficult to manage agricultural product like puerh tea.

Another factor that is complicating the issue is the appearance of drink-me-now puerhs. The oolong-ized or the green-tea-ized puerhs taste great now, but nobody really knows how well they age in the long run, and very few (myself included) can really tell them apart with good certainty. Whether such teas are worth the money depends on your tastes — do you want to buy it for aging, or buy it for drink it now?

I know I buy puerh hoping they’ll age into something great for the future. I’m more of a fan of aged teas than young teas, even though my current drinking habits would seem to indicate that I like them young. Rather, I’ve been trying them as much as I can while I have good access to it, and I expect myself going back to more oolongs in the near future when I won’t see as much young puerh. It creates a lot more work for me, and I noticed I’ve gravitated to small production, higher priced, but more individualistic puerh. Soon, however, I’m afraid I’ll be priced out of that market, if current conditions continue, and I think I will, because, as I’ve said before, I think old tree teas, the real ones anyway, won’t drop significantly in prices. Can’t say the same for the mass produced stuff.

Maybe I need to nurse my collection and hope they will all age to greatness, because I might not be affording some of them anymore a few years down the line. Let’s hope I’m wrong on this one!

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Buyers don’t buy, sellers don’t sell

June 10, 2007 · 5 Comments

The following is an article that I saw on Sanzui (unfortunately, you need to register to see the original text), which was in turn reposted from sina.net, a Chinese web portal. I’m trying to stick as close to the original text as possible, so some places might read a little awkward. Also, note that 1 USD = 7.7 RMB at current exchange rates. I should also note that coincidentally, I’ve actually met Li Jing at the Shanghai tea expo.

Buyers don’t buy, sellers don’t sell: Today’s puerh in a frozen state

From Jinghong, the capital of Xishuangbanna, to the tea country of Menghai, one must pass through Nannuo Mountain.

On the west side of the highway is the wooden house of Qiuhe. The people live on the second floor, and on the ground floor there’s a huge bag of tea, totaling some 250kg. This is freshly produced spring maocha. Right now it’s May 9th, and the price for old tree Nannuo maocha is about 280 RMB/kg. At this price, just this bag of spring tea is worth 70,000 RMB. Adding in the summer and fall teas, making 100,000 RMB this year is no problem for Qiuhe.

Yet he hasn’t sold one single kilogram of tea. He said he’ll wait — he’s hoping for 300 RMB/kg.

Qiuhe has a reason to wait. This Hani ethnicity family has been living in Nannuo Mountain for generations, and have always relied on tea as a living. From what Qiuhe remembers, in the 80s the price for all teas, plantation or old tree, were the same, around 0.4 or 0.5 RMB/kg. It wasn’t until 1999 when the price rose to 3 RMB/kg. Then after 2004 came around, the price went far beyond what he imagined possible. Two years ago, it hit 40 RMB/kg, and last year at the beginning of the year it was already at 55 RMB/kg. This year it zipped past 200 RMB/kg in no time.

Yet, just across the road, the general manager of the Menghai Shagui Boma Tea Factory, Li Jing, said as soon as I met her, “this year’s no good. Renminbi (RMB) shrinks as soon as it sees tea leaves. What do you think this is?” Her factory didn’t receive an order until very recently for two or three tonnes of tea. “You see that factory down the road? They haven’t even lit their furnace (for making tea)”

Li said that the prices this spring for various famous mountains rose about seven to eight times for plantation teas, and more than 10 times for old tree teas. Take Banzhang village of Bulang mountain for example, last year it was around 100-200 RMB/kg for old tree tea. This year, before May 1st, the price shot past 1250. Hu Wang, who came from Beijing to buy maocha, said he’s even bought some for 1600 RMB/kg.

Banzhang village is almost like a fairy tale this year. When Li came here in April to buy tea, she agreed on a price of 1100 RMB/kg on the first day she arrived. The next day, it went up to 1150. She decided to wait a little, but when she got up the next morning, it was 1200. She decided not to wait any longer, and bought 60kg. The tea cost more than the car that carried it home.

Away from Qiuhe’s home, on the other side of Nannuo mountain in the hamlet of Shuihelao, Xiao Zhixin, a graduate student in anthropology from Beijing University is also seeing the effects that the puerh tea craze has had on the people here. “A few years ago the people here just grew their own rice and corn to eat, some families didn’t even make enough food to feed themselves. Even last year, when the tea prices just started rising, there were only two motorcycles in this hamlet of 240 people. Now most have at least one, if not two motorcycles. There are even some new karaoke bars, and some girls from out of town who just loiter in front of them.”.

Pazheng village, to which Shuihelao belongs, produces mostly plantation teas. They neither have the old trees of Nannuo Mountain, nor the miracle of Bulang mountain’s Banzhang village.

Li Jing said other than families that only have old people and kids, almost every family has a car these days, mostly pickups of some sort. As long as you have an identification card for Nannuo or Banzhang, put down the ID card and sign a contract, you can take home a motorcycle or even a car right away. According to a tea merchant from Beijing, a farmer in Banzhang could make a few hundred thousand RMB easily, and during the harvest season, just one day’s picking would be a few thousand RMB.

But, as one can see from Qiuhe’s old wooden house, the wealth that has suddenly arrived is only affecting one corner of Yunnan. According to Yang Shanxi, the director of Yunnan’s Tea Bureau, on the whole Yunnan fresh (unprocessed) tea leaves prices rose about 2-3 times this year, from last year’s 3-4 RMB/kg to this year’s 10-12 RMB/kg. Even then, it is still far from Zhejiang province’s prices, as maocha for Yunnan is around 62 RMB whereas Zhejiang has reached 182. Zhang Jun of the Tea Institute of Yunnan’s Agricultural Academy thinks that as long as the market develops normally, there’s still ample room for growth in puerh tea prices.

Statistics also show that even though Yunnan farmers have had a substantial increase in their income in recent years, they are still ranked in the bottom when compared with the rest of the country. But the stories of Lao Banzhang has attracted the attention not only of people from Menghai or just the puerh production areas, but the whole country as well.

When asked about her thoughts when she joined the puerh tea industry as a kindergarten teacher in 2005, Li Jing said “when I saw other people making money, I wanted to make some money too”. She has natural advantages, having lived in Nannuo for almost 50 generations. Her father teaches in Lao Banzhang. “I was naive back then. There are lots of relatives, so it was easy to buy maocha. When we got maocha we just made it into finished products and sell. It was easy to make money”.

The same thought went through everybody’s mind. Li said that this year, in the local bank in Menghai, there were four lines of people who were lining up to take out cash. The local branch didn’t have enough money to pay all of them, and had to get cash transferred from Dali to meet the needs. Everybody talks about puerh when they meet. A parent of one of her former students, who used to be a garbage collector, asked when seeing her “Teacher Li, you want puerh? I have all sorts of teas.”

“Prices for rice went up. Prices for vegetables went up. People who used to grow vegetables went to collect tea. People who used to work in restaurants are now working in tea factories. Even nannies are impossible to find” Li said, noting things that outsiders don’t see. “Many tea factories can’t begin production because they can’t find workers. Last year we paid 30 RMB per day for wages. This year people won’t even work for 50”

Li’s problems are not limited to these. She planned to make a tea factory in 2005. In 2006 they made about twenty to thirty tonnes of tea in the spring. With the money she and her partner made, as well as the money loaned to her from her distributors, she expanded the factory’s capacity to 500 tonnes a year, and owed a million RMB in debt in the process. The factory was finished early this year, but prices of maocha is already so high that nobody wants to risk putting down a big order. “If our customers don’t send us money first, we don’t do the order. What if the market crashes? We’ll be dead.”

Factories like Li’s are very common. She said that last year there were only about 50 factories in the area. This year, there are 170. In fact, in the whole of Yunnan, according to Yang Shanxi, puerh processing capability is already approaching 200,000 tonnes a year. Last year’s production of all teas was 138,000 tonnes, with puerh accounting for about 80,000 tonnes of it. This means that there’s already a large distance between capacity and demand, which caused the prices of tea to rise quickly this year. The
other main reason is that rain came late this year, lowering overall production of tea leaves in the spring.

Late night on May 11th, in the lobby of a hotel in Jinghong sat a group of tea merchants from various placing, drinking together. Some of them have already been in Xishuangbanna for two or three months, but they still haven’t placed a big order. After May 1st, the price of Lao Banzhang has already dropped back to 800 RMB/kg, but still, nobody was buying and nobody was selling.

“Right now the situation is quite funny — buyers don’t buy, and sellers don’t sell”, Hu Wang said. He said that on the one hand, tea farmers want a better price. On the other, merchants are worried about risk, so they have been delaying their purchase, which then freezes the market.

A Hebei tea merchant bellowed out “do you bet high or do you bet low?”

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Things that happen when you walk into a non-puerh store

May 22, 2007 · 1 Comment

So we covered the puerh stores yesterday.  What happens when you walk into a non-puerh store?  This covers, basically, green tea shops and oolong shops.

First of all, unlike puerh shops, non-puerh shops do not really display their teas in any meaningful way.  What you might expect to find in a non-puerh store is basically rows and rows of bags or tins, all of which may or may not be marked.  It is typical, for example, to find a tieguanyin store that has a dozen of those big (3kg?) vacuum bags sitting on the shelf.  Are they all the same grade?  All different?  God only knows.  A Wuyi tea store will more likely have boxes that all say Dahongpao, or perhaps tins that name the teas (but not necessarily correspond to the stuff in the tin).  A green tea store will have similar setups.

So… you, as the consumer, has basically no idea what a store actually offers.  You can, of course, know the general genre of teas they sell by looking, but that’s about it.

Which also means… you are at the mercy of the store keeper.

When you walk in to one of these stores, there’s not a lot of looking around you can do, since there’s not much to look.  You basically sit down, and start drinking.  What to drink though?  Obviously, you have no idea as the customer.  You only know they sell tieguanyin, for example…. which begs the dreaded question

“What price range of tea do you want to try?”

This, ladies and gentlemen, is a killer question.  You can see the obvious problems in this one, I think.  You are basically telling them how much you’re willing to pay.  It doesn’t actually mean anything when it comes to what tea they give you.  I think these are stores that are more likely to test you to see if you know what you’re doing, and whether or not you’re easy to scam.

So, say, you say “I want to try teas that are 600RMB/jin” where jin is 500g, then… you’re going to get what they show you as the 600 RMB tea.  Most likely, it’s going to come out of a bag/box that looks just like any other.  For all you know, it’s the 50RMB/jin tea.

This is where taste comes in.  While I don’t think of myself as well versed in any of these teas in necessarily the same way as a younger puerh, I do think I know enough to tell between a good and bad one.  Building one’s tongue to try these things out is important.  Drinking the teas in direct competition with each other, with the same setup (two gaiwans, two cups) and the same amount of leaves/water is also important.  Very quickly, one learns to distinguish between a good and a bad tea.

Of course, it’s one thing to know between a good and a bad tea, and it’s another thing to know whether the bad tea is a 500RMB tea or a 50RMB tea.  That, unfortunately, takes time.

One usually not buy the first thing they try, not only because of the abovementioned problem, but also because it is a good idea to try out the teas of that shop before committing to buying.  Usually it’s good form to at least give two or three a try, more if you’re in the mood.

Since prices are stated early on, it takes one thing out of the equation, although, now comes the bargaining.  Almost all of these teas are bargainable.  The marked/quoted price is never the real price.  You can get it down to at least half, usually, although some stores abide by a no bargaining policy.  You gotta figure that out… I find tieguanyin stores to have higher markups, whereas Wuyi stores seem to be closer to their real prices.  I suspect that has to do with market demand, and since this is mostly observed in Beijing, and since Beijingers tend to drink more light fired tieguanyins… that might explain the “extra” they put in their prices.

I usually buy small amounts first, and come back for more next time.  That’s one thing about these shops though… since none of the teas are labeled, you need to go back to the same store to find the exact same tea.

There are pitfalls to these shops too.  I’ve heard stories of how one store actually only has two or three kinds of teas.  They put them in different bags, and whichever price you ask for, there’s a corresponding bag… but only with the same two or three teas.  If you’re imaginative about it, you can see how that can work….

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Things that happen when you walk into a puerh store

May 21, 2007 · 4 Comments

This is going to be a two part installment, because the modus operandi between a puerh and a non-puerh store work somewhat differently.  The standard procedure when I walk into a puerh store goes something like this.

I enter (usually after I spotted something interesting on the shelves — usually a cake).  I walk in, beeline for the cake that seems interesting… then the struggle begins.  They start asking questions or saying things such as…

“This is puerh tea.  Do you like sheng or shu?”

“Are you looking for teas for yourself?  Or to sell?”

“Why don’t you come sit down and try something?”

The first priority for me, usually, is not to sit down — once you’re sitting at that tasting seat, it becomes a lot more involved.  It’s harder to walk out.  It’s also harder to pick the exact tea you want to try, if you haven’t looked at all of them yet.  In any given store there are likely to be at least a dozen cakes on offer, and I usually like to look through all of them (or most of them) to get a good idea of what I’m working with.

Most of these teas are likely to be things I’ve never heard of.  Some stores make the job easier by having the cakes being easily accessible.  Others make it impossible.  Some even shrink-wrap them, so you have to ask to see them.  Or, they only display the fresh-out-of-factory packaging — so you have to ask them to look at the sample.  It’s very annoying when that happens.

Somewhere along the way, the (usually) girl will want to rewrap the cake for you.  I usually insist on wrapping it myself, or at least do it quickly.  While mine’s not perfect, it’s not too bad, and like I said, it’s one of those things you can do to gain instant respect.  Doesn’t work in every place, but it’s worked often enough.

When I first got to Beijing, I think I was much more indecisive and often let the store keep give me cakes to try.  Nowadays I have a much better idea of what might make a good tea and what I might like, and am thus much less likely to be driven by them.  I also walk out more often before I get to the tasting stage.  Since time is limited and the sort of puerh one can try is unlimited (essentially), one must choose.

So… you’ve chosen a cake, you sit down, they brew it… then what?

I usually drink as they brew, but sometimes I direct them a little in how to brew

“Brew it a little longer please”

Because sometimes they don’t really know what they’re doing, or they don’t do it in a way that you might do it yourself…

This is pretty easy going.  You make small talk.  Sometimes they ask for impressions on the tea, and start the hard-selling.  I usually equivocate and say “mmmm” or “it’s ok”.  In fact, I probably say “it’s all right” more often than anything else.

If a tea is no good… one can quickly get them to change to something else.  Sometimes they will push a tea, and depending on the case, I might agree to taste it, or reject the offer.  If nothing else is interesting… after the first tea is exhausted, it’s best to walk out quickly without asking for the price.

If, however, the tea is decent… then comes the second tension point.  Price.  How much is the tea?  There’s a little tension and suspense involved here.  Since almost no store label their tea’s prices (and the ones that do label it… it’s best to ignore the label) asking for the price represents another sort of commitment, however slight.  Sometimes, one’s pleasantly surprised, as in the case of the Yiwu I bought recently.  Sometimes, one’s nastily surprised, as is the case of many, many cakes I have never bought.  Sometimes, the price is in an acceptable, but slightly high range.

For prices that are astronomical… I will usually walk out after saying something like “let me walk around a little” or “I’ll think about it”, but always after drinking a few more infusions of the overpriced tea.  Walking out right away is rather rude (and they do remember you).  It is also a good idea to ask for the name card of the place, as if you’re going to come back.  If the price is right, then it’s just a matter of whether or not you want it badly enough, and how much of it to buy.  If it’s in the bargaining range… then it’s a battle of wits.

I’m not a great bargainer, although now knowing prices of puerh teas in general helps my bargaining.  It’s also a matter of what is acceptable for myself.  Getting 15 or 20% off isn’t too difficult, usually, although that can really depend on the initial quote and the tea in question.  As I’ve noticed more recently, prices quoted to me have gotten lower over time, which also means less room for bargaining.

Even paying can be a bit of a struggle.  Even after you’ve agreed to the price and the amount of tea to buy, it sometimes takes a bit more sitting around, chatting, and maybe even tasting before you go and pay for the tea.  I have a feeling that me being Chinese makes things a little more difficult, actually, because I need to observe common courtesy rules.  Often, I will make up some excuse, such as “I need to go meet somebody” or “dinner time” to bring up the paying thing.  It’s sometimes more awkward when another customer is around, because the shopkeepers might not want them to know how much you paid for the tea.  Since pricing is arbitrary, if I have gotten a low price for a cake, they don’t want others to know.  It’s best to suggest such things when nobody’s around, or when the other customer is busy with other things.

Maybe I can afford to be ruder now, just because I’m leaving China soon, but these people have amazing memories.  For example, one girl from a shop that moved recognized me even though I have not been there for about half a year (and even that time, only briefly).  I didn’t know it was the same store and definitely don’t remember her.  It’s a small place, and so… keeping one’s reputation is important.  Apparently, among some people anyway, I’m known as a picky customer.  I guess I don’t mind that so much.

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Pictures

May 17, 2007 · 4 Comments

Today I present you with three teas:

Oh wait, it’s the same one.

I didn’t even take them under different lighting conditions — I merely photoshopped them.

Which one’s the “unedited” one?

You can see how different they look… and I’ve noticed that even in natural sunlight, the colour can be off.  It’s a very annoying thing with digital cameras, I suppose.  The lighting is never quite right.  If the white balance of the camera is off when the picture is taken, then you might have really distorted colours.  When buying on the internet… colour changes can really change your perception of a cake.  It’s not like anybody even has to try to fix the pictures — without actively trying to doctor them, it can still come out being different from the real deal.

Unfortunately, that’s one of the risks of buying online.  When I try to show my cakes, I try to make it so that the colour isn’t too far off from what I see with my naked (well, glasses enhanced) eyes, but it’s never quite 100%…

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Other people’s home

May 13, 2007 · 1 Comment

I went to a few homes today. The first one I visited is that of the Weng family. They were easily the most prominent family in Changshu in the 19th century, with two members of their family earning the number one rank at the highest level exam in the land, and thus gaining the title of Zhuangyuan. There’s a gate to commemorate it.

Back in the way, these things were everywhere, especially in a town like Changshu, commemorating various things from high places in exams, to women who were chaste, to men who had fallen in battle, to…. you name it.

Since many members of this family reached high office, the family estate was obviously large. The main building is what is of the most interest, but it’s a house with 7 “jin”, which means 7 buildings on the central axis. A house would be considered large if it has 4 or 5 “jin”, so 7 is…. well, big. The main building was built in the Ming dynasty — sometime in the 16th century, if I remembered correctly. It’s very impressive.


(sorry for the shaky hand… it was very dark)


You can see the place is HUGE


With beautiful details

After spending a good hour there and actually lucked out on finding something useful for my work, I then went to the house where my grandfather grew up. It’s a very short walk from the Weng residence. Despite the fact that it’s supposedly a protected building for historical reasons:

The place is now occupied by at least a dozen families. After the communist took over most of these houses were given away to families that lacked a home, while the original family might’ve been kicked out or, at best, given a room in one corner of the house. Over time, it turned into this

You can see how the hall was built into — originally there was nothing obstructing the hall, but now they have put walls up on both sides, making it into a narrow alley while living in these concrete blocks. So much for conservation…

They do it in the courtyards too

You can see that inside… the primary structure is still pretty sturdy, but I think houses like this (which is the vast majority in the city) are a lost cause. It’ll be almost impossible to do anything about them, so any pretence of protection is really just a sham, I think. You can’t evict these people, who might’ve lived there for decades. It’s hard to tear down these walls — must be done carefully if you don’t want to destroy the old structure — and it’s simply too uneconomical.

Interestingly enough… every family had a well in their courtyard

And I think that was the primary source of water. They still use it — somebody was pulling up a bucket of water right before I took this picture. The nice thing was that they just let me walk in to take pictures. At least they didn’t try to kick me out.

I then went back to the Fangta park, where there’s a stone engraving garden — where they collected a lot of stone engravings from around the city and put them together, essentially saving them for posterity. It’s nice. Far too many of these are lost and some are very valuable historical documents. I was here for work, basically, as I wanted to see if I could find something useful here. This is what some of them look like

And then I ended the day with some tea, as that dull headache starts to set in. It’s called “Deyu Huocha”, or “Get Rain Living Tea”, literally. I suppose a better translation is “Tea that comes alive as it receives rain”. The selling point of this tea is that…. they are used for the national banquets at the Great Hall of the People, and also the leaves point UP. Meaning… the tip of the leaf, rather than pointing down as green tea often does, point up. You can see one of them in action.

The tea itself was just rather generic… nothing to write home about. A longjing is far better.

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Yushan

May 12, 2007 · 2 Comments

I went to see my ancestors’ tombs today to pay my respects. The ones I visited are both on Yushan:

It’s the only mountain in Changshu. It’s not very high. The structure you see is a city-wall gate — part of Yushan was within the city limits and was walled.

There are lots of things on Yushan. Tombs is probably the most numerous things though. There are lots of older tombs there, starting from this:

Supposedly the tomb of one of Confucius’ most famous students, Ziyou. This would date the tomb to something around 450 BC.

So I went and swept the tombs, as we Chinese call it. There are some nice views

You can see the Yangtze River in the top right corner.

It also involves some climbing

And for one of the tombs… the entrace is next to some tea farms where women are picking tea. This is not going to be good tea, methinks. It’s already rather hot…. the leaves aren’t going to be tender!

I did want to stay, but I wasn’t done yet, and so I had to move on from the tea farm. I don’t know if I’ll have time tomorrow…. but perhaps not.

I did, however, acquire three nasty mosquito bites on the way. They were rather swollen — those mountain mosquitos are powerful. Interestingly enough, when I came back to the room and drank some Qihong… they magically disappeared, very quickly too. Now they are reduced to mere small red dots. Is this another healing property of tea I’m discovering!?!?

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Swallow Garden

May 11, 2007 · 7 Comments

Since this

is pretty much the entirety of my tea consumption today (guesses anybody?), it won’t make for a very interesting blog entry. Where I visited, however, might be of interest to some of you. It’s slightly off topic, I know, but indulge me.

After going to the library and reading a whole bunch of family genealogies (that’s my research here) I decided to take another stroll. I was told that there was a… house? mansion? I don’t know what the right word here is … that was owned by one of my ancestors about a few blocks away, so I decided to look for it among the narrow alleys of Changshu.

The place I was looking for was found after a little search. It’s called the Swallow Garden (Swallow as in the bird). It was, for a few decades at least, a property of my great-great-granduncle. If that’s confusing… he’s my grandfather’s granduncle, or my great-grandfather’s uncle. In late age he styled himself the “Old man from the Swallow Valley”, a reference to his residence (ah, this is the right word).

This is the gate to it:

It’s firmly shut.

The place was apparently under renovation, but after looking around, I saw that it was accessible by a side door, and after asking the workers there if I could go look… they let me in.

This is what you see after taking a few steps inside

It’s really quite a nice place. I never knew that a relative of mine owned this place. I do know that it was owned by another prominent local family, but whose fortunes waned. It was apparently a classic case of son gambling away the house, like in the movie To Live. My ancestor eventually bought it after it changed hands a few times.

Much of the house was relatively inaccessible, but it was rather large with a few different gardens. The most distinctive thing is that you can never see too far once you’re in it… you have to walk around and gradually discover the place, piece by piece. Something looks like it’s really close, but you can’t get there easily. It’s a maze.

So I turned right and walked through this corridor

Which eventually got me to the other side

I then walked into the back garden

There were more buildings further back, but the way was pretty much blocked by construction materials and that sort of thing. Oh well. But you can see, for example, a little gazebo overlooking another pond with some rocks. I would kill to drink tea there.

Apparently quite a few structures in this complex was destroyed after 1949, and so the current size is already reduced. It’s a pity, really, but at least they’re restoring it as much as they can.

The same thing cannot be said of our other family residence, this one being where my grandfather spent his first 20 years or so. The battery on my camera was running low so I was only able to grab a few pictures. If people are interested, I’ll post some tomorrow as I’m going back there, along with seeing other residences, pay my respects at some family tombs, and look at some more local sources. This is all work! 🙂

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