To reach the tea plantations, I am used to walking for hours, or driving a 4×4, sometimes both. I don’t usually get to travel by boat, however. But yesterday, that is exactly what I did. At the moment I am looking for the best green teas in East China’s Anhui province. Among these are the true Taping Hou Kui teas, the only ones worthy of this name. They grow on a mountain that is only accessible by boat.
The news from Darjeeling is not improving. The Gorkhaland separatists have stepped up their campaign and have basically blocked the movement of the trucks transporting tea. Every day we receive samples, and we can buy the teas, but if they can’t be taken to Kolkata airport, what’s the point? This could last a few days, or several weeks. So the struggle with the government goes on, but where will it lead?
“Where will it lead?” That’s exactly the question I ask myself as I walk the little paths of Darjeeling, like here in Badamtam. I walk without really knowing where I’m going, just following my nose. It’s wonderful! And if I get lost, what does it matter? After all, it’s only me.
The social life of tea growers is not what it used to be. Look what has become of one of the Darjeeling growers’ clubs today!
This magnificent building is in an advanced state of disrepair, and every time I pass it, not far from the Namring Tea Estate, it saddens me. Situated at the top of the valley and enjoying a magnificent view, its abandoned state sadly only seems to affect me.
Under British rule, and up to around 20 years ago, planters would meet at least once a week, and would value this special opportunity to get together. Today, there is greater competition, and television, like everywhere, is destroying social life. So people stay at home.
Last week I had the pleasure of visiting the Balasun plantation, in Darjeeling. The plantation got its name from the river Balasun, which runs below it. Anil Jha, who manages the Sungma Tea Estate, and who you can see beside me in this photo, also supervises the Risheehat Tea Estate and the Balasun Tea Estate. He is one of the most respected and most experienced growers in Darjeeling. There are only three or four others with his level of expertise – and authority. I admire him, and I’m also grateful to him, because he was the first person to teach me so much, here on these mountains. We first met 20 years ago, so he has seen me progress, professionally speaking.
Whenever we meet, we talk for hours, united by the same passion.
This is the type of house I stay in when I’m in Darjeeling. It is a grower’s bungalow, and is typical of the region. There is one on each tea plantation, where the grower and his family live. I took this photo last week. When I woke, I sipped my early morning tea, served in bed as is the tradition, and waited for the sun’s rays to warm up the ground and flood the flower beds with light.
On cold, grey days like these, we long for the heat of the sun and a glimpse of blue sky.
But tea plants are not like us; they like a bit of mist, and flourish in humid surroundings. They love it when the air is cool and visibility is reduced to a few metres. They are not so keen on a blue sky overhead.
I found this beautiful, rare, clear azure sky in Thiashola, in the Nilgiris mountains (India).
The biggest tea plantation in Malaysia is a two-hour drive north of Kuala Lumpur, in the Cameron Highlands.
Caroline Russell, the current owner, is a direct descendant of Dutch colonists. The tea produced by the Sungai Palas Tea Garden may not be able to compete with the finest brews, but in the middle of this well laid-out plantation is the beautifully designed BOH Tea Centre. After a tour of the gardens, visitors can relax on the centre’s large terrace with a cup of tea, and admire the views.
In those countries where the British were in charge of tea growing, the processing factories are of an imposing size.
The upper floor, or upper floors, like here on the Namring Tea Estate (India), are devoted solely to withering the tea leaves. The rolling, oxidation, drying and sorting of the various grades take place on the ground floor of the building.
Having travelled around the region where Pu Er is grown, I moved further south, to Laos. There, I discovered, halfway between Paksé and Paksong, on the Boloven plateau, a small-scale factory making a very good black tea with aromas of cooked fruits, leather and spices, which will delight fans of Grand Yunnan Imperial.
Curiously, the tea plants here grow in the middle of coffee plantations. In fact, to enable the local rural population, who earn very little, to generate some extra income, the Lao Farmers Association has taught them how to grow tea, and has opened a cooperative whose purpose is to support the community rather than to make a profit.
As I walked for a few hours among the tea plants and luxuriant vegetation, I noticed two things in particular: the bomb craters left by the Vietnam war, and also the incredible number of leeches you must pull off as you walk. Not only do they climb up your shoes and trousers, but the creatures even manage to drop out of the sky, or rather, the trees, and land all over you, even in the palm of your hand.
Yunnan’s black teas are well known (Yunnan Tips, Yunnan d’Or, Grand Yunnan Imperial), as are its dark teas (Pu Er). But did you know that this Chinese province also produces green teas?
They may not be as prestigious as the green teas from Anhui, Fujian, Zhejiang or Jiangsu, but they are honest, sometimes a little astringent.
The tea plants you see here belong to the Meng Non Shan Tea Factory owned by Mr He Qi Chuan. This is a high-altitude plantation. One of the teas it produces is Jade Needles. I was curious to taste this tea, and did so in the company of the owner, who was very hospitable. I didn’t buy anything but it was a pleasure to spend time with him and see his beautiful fields of tea.
