Of course it’s not reasonable to expect commemoration or contemplation.
The “Great War” was concluded more than a century ago. How can I expect “the eleventh day of the eleventh month” to resonate somewhere so far away from where the Armistice was signed?
Yes, China was the non-European nation which committed most men to that war, with real casualties and real costs. It’s a story that needs telling, one which may one day receive more airing. But those events are too far away to claim such as exclusive calendar slot in the here and now.
Singles Day is not an insult to the victims of humanity’s biggest bloodbath. But, when listening to a bugler playing, “The Last Post”, on the news last week, I was again very conscious of the contrast between that solemn occasion and the meretricious event taking place closer at hand.
The gawdy popups on the mobile phone and computer screen were inescapable, as always. In our office, colleagues again exhausted themselves in their refusal to miss any opportunity. One even bought some tea.
It’s well known that producers and pedlars in China need to spend the whole year preparing for this capitalist carnival. And I’ve always suspected that a big portion of that effort goes into selecting sub-standard products ready to sell to frenzied bargain-boasters.
That’s certainly how I felt when sampling the office Double-11 red tea bought last week. The attractive tub promised much, but the result was merely drinkable. Called 正山小钟 [often translated as “Lapsang Souchong”], these leaves lacked even the smokey-sausage character of the Lapsangs sold in the West.
Actually, this variety seems to have taken over from Jinjunmei [金君眉], and before it, Dahongpao [大红袍], as China’s expensive tea of the moment. And I wouldn’t mention it, if it wasn’t for another experience I had in the same week.
I was the recipient of another Lapsang Souchong given to me as a gift. I am exceedingly grateful, because this Lapsang is surely as good as any tea I’ve ever owned. A most fortunate gift.
It has floral, fruity, sweet and fatty notes, and just the mildest hint of smoke, too. If you’ve ever had a Fry’s Turkish Delight, you’ll have experienced charms similar to these. That combo of rose-water chewiness with crispy chocolate is something I keep thinking of. There’s lychee here, and tamarind and cinnamon. Exhaling while suspending a mouthful, it’s easy to sigh with satisfaction and just as easy to laugh. It really is that good.
I’ll remember this batch as long as I live. I’ll not be around in a hundred years’ time, but this variety surely will. And that gives me great solace.
Long after Amazon Prime Day, Black Friday and their ilk have receded into ignominy, there will be opportunities for people to have quiet moments like this.
Yes, it doesn’t comfort or honour those whose lives ended in 1918, nor those whose lives ended in 2020. But at least I can say that tea as good as this is life at its best.
