The Art of Tea

It happened a long time ago, towards the end of the Japanese civil war, just before Toyotomi Hideyoshi unified the country under one Shogun, that a certain Sen-no Rikyu raised the Japanese pastime of drinking tea to the level of an art-from. He simplified every step to its purest essence, until it reached perfection. Hideyoshi, who was a big fan of tea, and just as meticulous about subjugating other warlords as Rikyu was about making tea, found great liking in the tea master. So much so, that on his last campaign against the wayward clan of the Hojo he ordered Rikyu to accompany him. Waiting for him at the temple Seikenji, Hideyoshi became more and more impatient. The tea master took his time to get there. When he finally arrived, Hideyoshi asked him why he had been so late, and as if it hadn't been obvious, Rikyu told him: "I was drinking tea."

This little anecdote shows just how highly tea, and the time for it, is valued in Japan. There are many famous schools that teach tea, and it takes at least two years to learn it properly. However, there are people who spend their entire life studying tea, and instead of scornful remarks they earn people's respect. What a wonderful culture this is! So after hearing and reading about tea-ceremonies, I was extremely happy when I was given the opportunity to attend one myself. It was my colleague Yanik who told me about it. He had been invited by Kaori, a Japanese English teacher who works at the public school with him.

I met both of them at Matsumoto Station on Sunday at ten o'clock. It was going to be a gorgeous Spring day, with a slight breeze and the sun shining brightly over the mountains. We were all dressed up in our best attire. I was sporting my new tie I had bought in Tokyo's trendy district, Shimokita, and Kaori was wearing a beautiful Kimono. A special tea-ceremony-bus was waiting for us, as well as the other guests, all of whom were dressed in traditional Japanese clothing. It was a twenty-minute ride to the house of the famous poet Kubota Utsubo, where the ceremony was going to take place. I could hardly wait.

From what I had heard, I was expecting a long session of silence, rigid body posture, sitting on your feet, and disciplined reverence, that would go on forever. Basically something compared to which a boring Sunday service at church would seem like a walk in the park. Nevertheless, the experience itself was worth it, so I was well prepared to take on anything. May it come as it will. As it turned out, it was much less tiring as I had thought, and way more interesting.

First of all, the poet's house itself was worth the trip. Since Utsubo had lived in the Meiji era (like about a hundred years ago) his house was very traditional, with tatami mats, sliding screens, and a beautiful garden behind it. After arriving, we were ushered into the waiting area, where we took a seat on some cushions on an elevated platform. This was our group of about twenty guests for one tea-session. Eventually we were admitted into the main area, where we were served delicious, pink, Japanese candy. We would need the sweet, they told us, because the tea was going to be bitter. However, they had more of a pasty taste rather than the sweets that are eaten in the West. Of course there was an elaborate procedure how to pick up the candy with chopsticks, how to appreciate them, how to wipe the chopsticks with your napkin, and how to pass the bowl on the the next person. The more experienced tea-guests (meaning everyone except for Yanik and me) even had a special candy-cutting device in their kimono. We just used our hands... how barbaric, I know!

Eventually it was time for the tea. We got up and walked into another room, where the tea master had all his utensils laid out. The foreigners were given a minute to take pictures, and then we were seated along the walls to observe the making of the tea. Basically it is very simple: They take the ground powder from the baggie with a tiny scooper, and put it in the bowl. Then they pour hot water on it, and finally they use a bamboo whisk to make it all frothy, like a cappuccino. That's it. Every three people shared a bowl, and they used their napkins to wipe the side of the bowl where they drank form. We were also given a thorough explanation on the meanings of the ceremony and the writings on the wall, all in Japanese of course, which gave the entire experience an even deeper feeling of mystery. I realized that the simplest things can have so many more meanings and details about them that I will never even know...


The tea itself was quite interesting. Just like the candy, it was not as bitter as I had expected. But it was unusually thick. I had never had anything like that before. The taste reminded me very much of the wheatgrass shots they sell at organic health-food places, though the consistency brought some strange images of a popular Peter Jackson movie to my mind. For those to whom this rings a bell, it's when the aliens pass around a bowl they all take a sip from... and the only incognito human, who is forced to do likewise, ends up liking it. For those who have no idea what I'm talking about, here's a suggestion on the side: go and watch the film Bad Taste. It's worth it!

The whole ceremony didn't take more than maybe half an hour. Then we went to put our shoes back on and took a walk in the garden. Under the tall pine trees, there was another tea ceremony being prepared, which we were going to attend. This time it was even more relaxed. We even got to sit on benches, and watch the ladies prepare the tea in a little tent. The sweets were once again delicious, made of black beans, and the tea looked more like what I had known as green tea. It was a liquidy substance, with a lot of froth on top. This time we were reminded to turn our bowls twice, as it is not customary to drink from the "middle". Wherever the middle of a round bowl is, is still a mystery to me, but I obediently turned it twice, and enjoyed an even more delicious green drink. It was lovely.

Wrapping up the experience, I took a few more pictures of the utensils, we walked around a bit in the garden, looked at the Utsubo Museum across the street, and took the bus back to Matsumoto. It was truly a beautiful Sunday activity, and a memorable experience. I got to taste what was probably the purest tea around, and gained insight into the ancient art-form passed on since the times of Rikyu and Hideyoshi.