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Hello Kindred Spirits,
From Whenzou, we headed to Fuding County, China's most famous white tea growing area.
As we drove, Mr Gung shared with me that this year there has been a rare frost which has devastated much of his white tea harvest; burning the first spring buds - which are the most highly prized. At the same time Yunnan Province, to the west, has suffered a drought. Our dependence on nature reminds me of my past working with peas and corn and carrots in Tasmania (a story for another time).
We drove further and further from civilisation, and after several hours stopped at the mountain town of Bailin for lunch. We selected our meal – the most mouth watering organic mountain greens and seafood – by pointing to it.
The food was served in a little private dining room where I quickly learned that it was my job to make my host look good by eating more than is humanly possible and then some. Thankfully the food was delicious and light - green prawns, little cockles, taro and bamboo seasoned with garlic, ginger, spring onion and chillies.
After a few courses I worked out that the best approach is to use my chopsticks to pick small pieces over an extended period - so that I am the last to finish - and everyone, including my stomach, is happy.
After lunch, we switched to a four wheel drive to make the trip the last few kilometres up the pristine mountain.
When we finally reached the tea garden, I was struck by its size. The garden is 1000 hectares, with tea bushes lining the hills in all directions. More than 200 mostly older women work here during the peak plucking season. The youth are leaving for the more exciting city life and the shortage of workers is a growing problem.
Something that stands out in China, a product of socialist versus caste-based background perhaps, is the greater sense of equality between people compared with Ceylon.
Here the pluckers happily chat with the estate owners and with me, whereas in Ceylon there is a shyness and almost shock (which quickly turn to giggles) when I sit and help in the factory.
We wandered the garden in the sunshine. Mr Gung showed me some burnt buds and some that have survived the frost, and we chatted with the pluckers.
I told Mr Gung (with Frank translating) about my little piece of paradise in Gippsland, surrounded by lyrebirds, tree-ferns and mountain pepper plants. Together we wondered whether it would be possible to grow tea there - we laughed about my buying some stock from him. Not so silly actually.
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