All the tea in China

I've had a brief initiation back home to the ritual of Chinese tea ceremony, and while I like good-quality tea as much as the next person, I'd never really got into it. And I've done tea ceremony in Japan, a dramatic, high mass of an affair including foamy bright green stuff which is more the stuff of ritual than an actual beverage.
In China,I was obviously motivated to make the most of the tea. My first close and personal encounter with Chinese tea (beyond the perfectly decent industrial stuff you get at the supermarket) was through a pu'er cake that a Chinese friend gave me. Then, in Shanghai, I came across by sheer luck the coolest little shop, ran by a charming young man, who was willing to serve me tea throughout the afternoon probably. There, I got more pu'er and some oolong. For the uniniated, pu'er is presented in roundish little buns, resembling this. The shapes and sizes the leaves are pressed in vary, but if you've never seen them and they're wrapped they're not even recognizeable as tea. Oolong is a smokey tea.

Then, one of the highlights of my trip to Hangzhou was the visit to the tea museum, complete with an investment in longjing, or "dragon well" tea, a grassy green tea, that, I've learned since,Chinese people don't like so much (an Earl Grey of China?) . Then, a few weeks ago, I went to Gin Tonic's very own tea market, which looks like this:

Yes, that's a massive mound of tea. Some part of me would like to jump and roll in it as if it were a heap of wonderful-smelling autumn leaves. It's not very fancy and it's mysteriously empty, though presumably the merchants do make a living out of it. The shopkeepers also do the whole schtick of washing the teapots, filling tiny little cups, spilling water all over special trays, but it didn't feel as friendly and intimate as the place in Shanghai. But still, I got some more green tea, more delicate than the long jing, as well as some "iron goddess of mercy" where the leaves are rolled in little balls that make a tinkling sound when they're put in a cup (so you don't just see, smell and taste tea, you get to listen to tea!).

Ware-wise, there's also a lot to discover,. A must have is the purple clay tea pot, which looks like a very plain thing but can cost a fortune (ok not a fortune, but way more that you'd expect a plain little terracotta teapot to cost). Then there are cups, trays, jugs, you name it. Right now, I got a cheap clay teapot off the flea market, I guess I'll start blowing money, but gradually.

The nice thing about Chinese still tea ceremony is that it might not be as elegant and grand as the Japanese one, but it feels a lot more convivial and normal. It's also easy to get obsessive about Chinese tea, as I've known some people to be, because there are so many varieties and so much stuff to fiddle with. Really feels like getting initiated in some mystery of the Orient. The slightly grating aspect I've noticed is that, where foreigners who are into tea are concerned, it's also easy to get a bit snobbish, maybe because you've admittedly gained a lot of knowledge, but still. There's no harm in admitting ignorance or to liking something that "only foreigners like." I've got a lot to learn, and want to learn (I've also invested in two books) but this is supposed to be fun, and a way to know China that overcomes language barriers and doesnt require any particular skills as say, calligraphy or martial arts would. And hey, at least by now I know that that is pu'er and not marzipan cakes!

The ghosts of China past

Now, Gin Tonic might be pleasant enough, but it's not on anybody tourist map. It might be a couple of thousand years old or so, but that's not exactly obvious. Most of it is a nondescript mass of cement and glass.
Unless you end up in the old town. I mentioned the old town before, I think, it's a couple of streets with traditional-ish houses and a flea market for all your perforated coin, Confucius statuettes and Mao paraphernalia needs.. But recently, in much nicer weather and a little more knowlege of the turf, I found there are some real hidden gems. The old town conceals some more street of very nicely kept (or fixed) old houses which have nothing to envy from the likes of Shaoxin. They organized as informal museums of sorts, with themes more or less deliberately chosen. Funnily enough, it feels a bit like Pompei, but a Pompei in which people still come and go and do stuff.

 This is the courtyard of the calligrapher's house. The house itself is some kind of calligraphy museum, with one of the masters there drinking tea and eating, and his wife trying to sell you his works.
 
Here's the calligrapy master and his acolytes in action.

This is the innter courtyard of the ghost's house. I call it the ghost's house because it's inhabited by a noble-looking fellow who habits one room where he has traditional furnitre and a flat screen tv. He seems like a kind of genie of the place. There was also a rooster in the garden, he didn't seem very happy to have visitors.

The door to another house. This was all about ceramic, if I remember correctly.

Marco's Paradise

It seems that Marco Polo thought Hangzhou was paradise  and you can see why. The misty lake, the graceful bridges, the greenery. This is Real Chinese Stuff (tm) as you can see from my present banner pic. Looks right out of a Chinese dish, right?

However, as is often the case, there is trouble in Paradise. The weather was crappy for one thing. It did add some kind of misty poetic dimension to the sights, but running around being a tourist is generally nicer when it's sunny and dry.

And then the taxi drivers. Those belong right into hell.

The first, driving us from the station to the hotel, managed to misread a street name in pynin, attempt to drop us in the middle of nowhere, then finally drove us back to the other side of the city. Another was apparently unable to read an address-in Chinese this time- and reacted by yelling. Note to Chinese people: if a foreigner doesn't get what you're saying it's because they can't speak Chinese, not because they're deaf. Raising your voice won't help. Finally, there was the surreal spectacle of seeing taxi after empty taxi not stopping by. This is one of the great mysteries of China, one of those things that are literally unexplainable (as in, you seek possible explainations, but find none that makes sense).

Apart from the taxi misfortunes, Hangzhou is a treasure chest of a city, and, if you excuse the mixed metaphor, I think I saw only the tip of the iceberg. Another place I hope to go back to, and stay smack in the middle of the city so I can avoid taxis like plague (either that, or acquire a deep knowledge of Hangzhou's public transportation network). Anyway, sights included:

Silk Street. Hangzhou is famous for its silk. It's nice, but a bit touristy. I got a cute, wearable cotton Mandarin dress, but once again the hues of the scarves look weird and unbecoming on me.

This West Lake. It looks like something out of a dream. There's an island in which there are smaller lakes (but no islands on said smaller lakes).

Hangzhou is also famous for its Dragon Well green tea. This is the tea museum, which is a massive tea field with some explainatory stuff in a building on the side. Again like something out of a dream.

A temple, which is the tomb of General Yue Fei, big national hero and model of filial piety:

And this is just a small part of what I saw, and an even smaller part of what there is to see.