Here, in the south of Sri Lanka, in the “low grown teas” region, the sun is very intense, and it is best to protect the tea plants from its rays for at least a few hours a day.
Curiously, palm trees are used here to provide shade, despite being a rarity. As the palm trees themselves are cultivated, this enables the farmer who owns this lovely lakeside plot to harvest two different products on the same land, and both plants benefit.
Last week, in the company of Dilan Wijeyesekera and Vidusha Wakista, I tasted teas from the regions of Dimbula, Uva and Nuwara Eliya, side by side.
Dilan and Vidusha work for the company Mabroc and supply some of our teas from Sri Lanka, which come either from their own plantations or the Colombo auctions.
We also discussed “low growns”, teas from the south of the country that grow at a low altitude, and which have steadily improved in quality over the years. Most low tea plantations don’t use the rotorvane, a machine widely used on high grown plantations, which handles the leaves more roughly than the orthodox procedure.
I am writing this in Colombo, in the room where the weekly tea auctions are held. In fact there are many auction rooms like the one I’m sitting in now, where different grades are sold.
The three people you see on the platform are brokers. In the days preceding the auction they will have received hundreds of samples from the tea plantations. They print a catalogue listing all the lots of tea available, which they send to the exporters, and today they are selling the teas.
The men sitting in this room – strangely there are no women – are exporters. They are officially recognised as such, and are almost the only people with the right to export tea from Sri Lanka.
What amuses me about this photo is that everyone seems so calm, whereas in reality the place is buzzing with activity. The man in the centre of the platform is announcing the lots to be sold and is speaking at an incredible rate. A few seconds later he brings the hammer down and moves on to the next sale. He spots a man raising an eyebrow, which means he is bidding higher, or another lifting a finger, and when nobody else moves, it means the deal is done.
The little Darjeeling train sometimes takes a break. Near Ghoom, at the Batasia loop, there is a special stop which the tourists enjoy.
It is a spectacular configuration, where the track turns back on itself, climbing at the same time, before the train crosses a bridge right above the track it was on just a few minutes earlier.
In this photo the train has just completed the loop and is passing in front of some pretty and very neatly trimmed trees, a sign of the locals’ pride in their Toy Train.
When you know what the climate is like here in Assam, you realise this woman must be brave to work outside. Throughout my stay in the Jorhat region, the temperature varied between 35° and 38°C, while the humidity came close to 100%.
Whatever the temperature, she rarely removes her wide-brimmed hat: it protects her from the powerful rays of the sun and also from the frequent and torrential downpours that can come at a moment’s notice.
Preparing tea requires a certain amount of precision when it comes to professional tasting. If you are preparing to taste and compare a number of teas, it is essential that the infusion takes place in exactly the same conditions for them all.
So everything is done with attention: the water must be at the correct temperature, the recipients must be clean and of the same colour. The exact same quantity of leaves is placed into each pot, to the nearest tenth of a gram. Then the infusion can begin – timed, of course.
The tea plant enjoys humidity, but it hates having water sitting around its roots. How awkward! To keep its feet dry when the ground is flat, like here in Assam, drains are dug into the soil.
Switching locations from the plains to the peaks, I want to tell you about the mountain blocking my view right now. It marks the start of Nagaland, the sparsely populated region that borders Assam. The Nagas are a friendly people, but due to one of their ancient customs, thankfully now abandoned, they are sometimes known as “Head Cutters”.
Among the enemies of the tea plant, the inchworm features in prime position. With a ferocious appetite, it can munch its way through quite a few leaves in a short space of time. Getting rid of them isn’t easy, especially on organic plantations. Birds are the principle predators of this creature, whose name derives from its strange gait: it advances by taking calculated “steps”, measuring out each one with apparent expertise.
One day, when I was in Darjeeling, I was surprised to find that a plot on the North Tukvar plantation had been named after me. It was a new plot, mainly planted with the AV2 cultivar which I am particularly fond of.
This gesture from G. Somani, superintendant of North Tukvar and Puttabong, touched me greatly, and from time to time I return to “Delmas Bari”. The tea plants have grown, they look magnificent at the moment. The place has a unique charm about it. A small stand provides shade where you can enjoy a cup of tea and take in the incredible beauty and utter tranquillity of the surroundings. I feel quite at home there!
Every time I go to China, I wonder what else will have changed in the cities and countryside that I know. The rapidity of change in the country takes your breath away, as you gaze upon a street you no longer recognise, or a forest of skyscrapers that in less than a year has grown faster than a copse of bamboo.
But off the beaten track, there are still hamlets that have kept their soul. Here, in Zhaji (Anhui province), nothing has changed for a very long time, and every evening after his meal, Mr Li walks beside the river before returning home for a last cup of the famous tea he produces.
