Tea, Mountains, and Mist

Long before computer chips and wireless network routers, oolong tea was Taiwan’s top export. Tea and tea culture remain central to the fabric of modern Taiwan. On Sunday Devin and I visited Pinglin, a town of 7,000 people in the heart of tea country. Eighty-five minutes of snaking mountain roads on a Taipei city bus brought us to a place dominated by thick vegetation, steep mountains, and mist.

Appropriately, a tea house was our our first stop. Our waitress and an English-speaking customer taught us the proper method to brew tea. It was easy. All you need is loose tea, a clay tea pot, a separate pot of boiling water, a tiny stove, a shallow bowl to collect excess water, a fine wire filter, a glass pitcher, a dish for waste water and used tea, a watch with a seconds hand, and a tea cup. We were a long way from 50 teabags for $2.49 at Target. I’ll let you guess what tastes better.

Another difference: Taiwanese “agriculture” does not imply 160-acre squares of flat land. Tea fields are about the size of a large American back yard, with neat rows lying almost vertically on top of each other. After relaxing for an hour in the tea house we climbed through a fallow field to reach a hilltop with spectacular views. Two thirty-five foot-tall statues of Guanyin (the bodhisattva of compassion) watch over Pinglin from either side of the river valley. Mountains upon mountains line the horizon. We stood, catching our breath, in amazement.