My Introduction to Teaism

The heavy rain continued as my taxi came to an abrupt halt in a deserted street in downtown Daegu. I tried to tell the taxi driver, with whom I do not share a common language: We’re in the wrong place and I don’t want to be left here. 

The streets are devoid of people and vehicles, as shopping in Korea begins and finishes late. I eventually manage to persuade the driver to lend me his cell phone so I can contact Megan, who, along with a coach full of "tea enthusiasts," is patiently waiting for me.

Eventually I arrive at the proposed starting point, and proceed to wade through the streaming rain, passing row upon row of buses while trying to locate my group. Finally, I catch sight of Megan leaning out of a window.

After making my embarrassed apologies, we waste no time in leaving the city. There's a brief stop while everyone stands up and introduces themselves individually, including the three foreigners: Megan, Don, and I. As usual, I manage to impress everyone by being the only one unable to speak at least some basic Korean. 

Koreans find it odd that westerners will start a conversation with a complete stranger.  While Koreans are generally relaxed and outgoing, conversation rarely takes place without a formal introduction. Their social structure is communal and highly hierarchical, and there is a need to know where everyone fits within it.

I am here because I want to learn about tea – how it is cultivated, harvested, commercially prepared, and drunk. I had been told that Mr. Lee was a renowned Tea Master, and, as an added bonus, spoke English! Until then my desire to learn about the tea had been thwarted by my lack of Korean language skills.

Our first major stop was somewhere in the county of Boseong. It was here that I discovered that Mr. Lee’s English was very limited. As we trudged along in our wet weather gear and the heavy rain continued, I learned that we were looking at some of the oldest tea plants in Korea. The rest of that conversation shall always remain a mystery. 

The stop was brief and we decided to forego the first stage of our excursion: tea picking. The rain continued to pour out of the heavens, and a heavy mist prevented us from seeing a view which was renowned for its beauty.

By the time we arrived at a small, family-owned tea plantation, the sky had cleared and I began to experience some of Megan’s enthusiasm for all things Korean. First we had a quick tour of the factory, taking in the packing and drying rooms. The whole business was run on traditional lines – everything involved in the growing and production of tea was done by hand. 

After the initial picking and sorting, the tea leaves are cooked and wilted by being "stir-fried" in drying pans which resemble large woks. This involves stirring and throwing the leaves into the air with gloved hands while trying not to burn the tea – or oneself. 

The second stage is the rolling and rubbing of the leaves. This is done with the palm of the hand, and resembles the action used in kneading dough. The third step is to let the leaves dry naturally. Leaves that are not soft and pliant are again thrown into the drying pans and the second heating commences. The whole process may be repeated several times. 

Everyone enjoyed participating in these activities, while exhibiting different levels of competency. I was given the dubious honour of working up a sweat over the drying pans.  

To finish off the afternoon, we all moved to the tea house, where I managed to seat myself as close as possible to Mr. Lee in order to observe the "master." I was a bit taken aback to see him pour hot water not only over the tea, but also over the pot, with an elaborate and somewhat exaggerated rise and fall of his arm. The whole performance was more reminiscent of a Spanish peasant squirting wine from a leather bottle into his mouth while in a horizontal position than what I imagined a tea ceremony should look like. I could not match this image with my own, which usually involved gracefully kimono-clad Japanese women, beautiful tea bowls, and classical music. I was beginning to doubt Mr. Lee’s credentials, but as no one else seemed concerned, I kept my opinions to myself.

Some time later, I learned that Mr. Lee had given us a demonstration of the Chinese tea ceremony, an essential part of which is the wetting of the teapot. This is both to clean the outside of the pot and to make it nice and hot. 

The highlight of the afternoon came when I received a prize for my tea "roasting/burning" efforts: my first box of quality Korean tea. I again had to stand, smile, and bow, while saying a few words unintelligible to my non-English-speaking audience. Nevertheless, they applauded enthusiastically.

While my initial introduction to teaism did not meet with my expectations, my interest in tea did not wane. Thanks to my friend Veronique, a colleague at Keimyung University where I worked, I managed to find my own Tea Mistress. 

Veronique and I, along with her Korean husband, who acted as a translator, attended Saturday morning sessions at the Tea Mistress' tea shop. It was a welcome and relaxing break after a week of teaching. During this time I learned about Korean, Chinese, and Japanese ceremonies.

On one occasion I served tea at a calligraphy exhibition at the Daegu Cultural Centre. On another, we became involved in the opening of new Buddhist monastery, where Veronique and I were privileged to be the guests of the women who where performing various tea ceremonies. In a back room, we sat around drinking tea and eating various sweets that accompany tea drinking. The women chatted and laughed, and enveloped us in their warmth, while helping each other wrap themselves in numerous layers of traditional clothing, or Hanbok. None of them spoke English but we still managed to communicate.

Sometimes we visited my teacher’s teacher, a head monk at Mt. Palgongsan’s Donghwasa Temple, close to Daegu. It was here that we saw a performance of different tea ceremonies through the ages as part of the temple’s anniversary celebrations.

There are many tea festivals in Korea that attract large numbers of Koreans and foreign tourists. All of this has added to a renewed interest in teaism. The term teaism was initially coined by Kakuso Okakura in The Book of Tea, first published in 1906.  Okakura describes teaism as:

 “...a cult founded on the adoration of the beautiful among the sordid facts of everyday existence. It inculcates purity and harmony, the mystery of mutual charity, the romanticism of the social order. It is essentially a worship of the imperfect, as it is a tender attempt to accomplish something possible in this impossible thing we know as life.”

Tea was first introduced to Korea some 2,000 years ago by Chinese Buddhist monks. However, tea was not was not cultivated in Korea until the ninth century CE, when a Korean envoy, after learning the horticultural skills necessary to grow tea, brought back tea seeds from Tang China (CE 618-907). These seeds were planted on the slopes of the Jinsan Mountains near Ssanggyesa Temple in Boseong.

Koreans favour green tea, which is not only enthusiastically drunk, but is also used in the manufacture of soap, candles, cosmetics and ice cream. Green tea ice cream is easily made by mixing in matcha, the green powdered tea that is favoured by the Japanese for their tea ceremonies.

Every tea house in Korea offers a large selection of different teas: green, oolong, and red/black, and herbal tisanes. One of my favourite drinks is green tea latte.  

My experience of tea in Korea – my weekly lessons and occasional excursions – gave me an insight into Korean culture which I shall always value. Tea opened up a world that would have otherwise been closed to me, a non-Korean-speaking foreigner.  

Read Kakuro Okakura's Book of Tea in its entirety here. 

Copyright © 2009 by Eileen Mills. All rights reserved.

Eileen Mills lives in northern New South Wales on 80 acres of subtropical, mainly rain-forested land. She became interested in tea while teaching English at Keimjung University, Daegu, South Korea.