Trip to the Tea House

This past Sunday was one of the best days ever.

It's taken me awhile to get around to writing about it. I don't know why it is that I put off important things to clean the kitchen floor or look at the real estate section of the New York Times (as long as I'm on the subject, check this out -- http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/28/greathomesanddestinations/28gh-househunting.html?_r=1) when all the while I have love for special someones on my mind, people I ought to let know. To those of you I love, I love you so much. And yes, I realize this is a cop-out. But boy is my floor clean... (And if you read my last post, you'll remember my efforts aren't in vain).

It began with an orange omelet (the yokes of eggs are so orange here!), toast, hash-browns, orange juice, and coffee at an American-style Diner called "The Diner." I also ate some of Sam's pancakes... classic dilemma, right? What to choose what to choose... salty or sweet? Aha! Wait for your friend to order first and count on mooching. Best of both worlds. It ended with a couple hours spent on the computer rearranging everything I've written so far in my story of Helen and Moses. A filling day right? Both physically and mentally. But the middle part was the most wonderful.

After breakfast Max, Kiah, Sam and I took a scooter trip to the eastern edge of the city to a small mountain dotted with tea houses. Even more delicious than the omelet was the air. What a tease to escape the smoggy valley! Almost immediately I tasted the difference. My head cleared. I shivered! The greenery on the mountain was thick and tangly and sort of bluish. It smelled like home. Like dirt I guess, and I learned I can't be away from the stuff for so long. We passed ram-shackle cottages, tawny wild dogs with red eyes, modest gardens sweetly framed with wire fences, thick, compact, temples like hot red and golden caves tucked into walls of overgrowth. Everything was on the edge with stairs connecting houses to sheds to gardens to temples like a board game. And all the while a view of the city, or at least 101, remained in the distance and started glowing at dusk.

We kept our eyes out for a teahouse. That was the original destination, and we'd come prepared with books, notebooks, Chinese homework (that would be Kiah). On our first attempt we went up the wrong side of the mountain (or the wrong mountain? I'm not sure. I was a passenger content hugging Max and thinking about Helen and Moses). On our way down we stopped by a temple that caught our eyes. We thought it might be a tea house but when we took our helmets off in the parking lot we heard chanting. We walked cautiously up a pathway to a kind of courtyard and rooftop. In a covered portion of the courtyard monks in dark yellow robes chanted and men and women faced statues of gods with burning incense in their hands. The smell was so thick and spicy I forgot how cold I was. In the courtyard little boys kicked a ball around and a few young women milled about. Everyone was welcoming; somber, but friendly. Kiah helped the three of us to pray properly. We grabbed a fistful of incense and prayed to the god in the open part of the courtyard before making our way inside and bowing and praying at each statue. Afterwards we hung over the banister. We pointed out the barren pond below, surrounded by sticks and small flowers. Inside the dark water we caught flashes of orange goldfish. Snake-like dragons made of metal framed our view down the mountain. Above that layers upon layers of soft blue distant mountains. A rope cut through the sky and from it hung faded Chinese lanterns. They were off-kilter, collapsing into themselves, their tassles blowing around tiredly. Kiah wanted to stay for awhile. When I realized I felt eager to leave I felt bad. In a way it was just too much I guess. I didn't know what to do with such an unbelievable reality.

We waved goodbye to the little boys playing. We acknowledged the mysterious little stone staircases leading up into the mountain and the perfectly careless arrangements of rocks and pots of pouring flowers on their steps. On our second attempt up the mountain we found a teahouse. And so we watched the sun fade sitting together against a wall of windows. Overlooking Taipei we brewed and drank fresh green tea right from the property, following a series of steps in the Taiwanese tradition. For the most part we sat in silence with our heads in books but every once in a while we talked. The four of us are so good together. I felt so at ease. When we got hungry we ordered some fried rice to share and when it was time to go we went.

I feel funny ending with fried rice. I also feel funny about using so many adjectives, but I forgot my camera. And this good day was about looking, not so much about thinking and doing. It was also about how easy love can be.