There are those who love to get dirty and fix things. They drink coffee at dawn, beer after work. And those who stay clean, just appreciate things. At breakfast they have milk and juice at night. There are those who do both, they drink tea.
— Gary Snyder
We have, here in Boulder, an excellent tea shop, shelves full of just about anything other than coffee that you’d want to steep in a pot of hot water. They have several varieties of Pu-erh tea. This is the kind that comes in large, Frisbee-shaped cakes, compressed that way to stand the rigors of traveling back to Venice with Marco Polo. Milder than I thought it would be, not as smoky.
Hoping that drinking it will convince me to stop trying to write and to go to sleep like a normal person.
I have decided that the Trident is my new favorite coffee house. They are even very open about their lack of knowledge about tea. I asked for a pot of Assam. There were two canisters of it — the young man behind the counter showed them both to me. “I think this one here’s a little darker.” He looked at the canisters again, and said, “But I don’t really know anything about tea.”
I chose the tea from the larger canister. Thus I silently admit my own tea ignorance. Oh well…
It seems that, regardless of how late you stayed up to read books and type ad nauseam in your little electronic journal, morning still arrives at exactly the time specified by those who study and work in celestial mechanics. I picture all those who study celestial mechanics (a type of mathematician that studies how planets and stars and comets go around and around and around and…) to be dressed in their own special coveralls, first names embroidered on patches above their hearts, and sprinkled with stardust. Or comet-dust or dark matter, if you have no overly-romantic bent.
Now there I go again… what did I mean to say? Good morning! I am off to enjoy my tea.
Morning tea, just brewing in the Bauhaus glass pot