cha cha chai ching!

Phew. I promised myself to quickly a quick re-entry after the previous one just for kosher reasons, but alas I have failed to meet my modest expectations yet again. I think I may develop an inferior complex towards myself for not even meeting my babiest steps of generally steps of goals. however, i was saved when i ran into a quote when dictionarying a word: To err is human, to forgive divine. That's fresh.

So although slightly outdated, I wanted to talk about my week of teas. This was two weeks ago, so I hereby declare, in my miniature universe with a 2 km radius, the second week of December as the week of tea.

It started on the 11th. After returning from a two-week course on Gandhi and Globalization on the toe nails of the Himalayas, I was embraced harshly by the empty smell of the dusty stale air of my apartment room. The place gets no sunlight or fresh air and the only visitors are dust, cockroaches and the confederate depressive elements all stars. The American philanthropist that I am, I resolved that some good will Chai tea is what was needed to bring light to this gloomy corner of my room. Chai is sold everywhere here, in the hotels, restaurants, the streets, sidewalks and alleys. If such a ubiquitous tribute to the small beauties of the world is not present in my house, of course there will no justice nor peace. The revelation was brutally simple, the execution gently terrifying.

As much as I consider myself a nominally experienced person with occasional sparkles of boldness, without the community backbone buttressing my jello legs, my timid snail element shells me over and subsequently snails me over. being timid makes things hard, but being an awfully persnickety (don't really know what it means, but had to use it cause it sounds so, so, fine...) yet apprehensive consumer makes brewing something as simple as tea something akin to trekking through the himalayas to get to the tea gardens. Especially when one, whether for spiritual reasons or for rupee-pinching reasons, insists on entering into consumer relationships with products not that I choose, but rather chooses me; never happens with mundane things like strainers. In short, and in consideration that my writings are too long, I needed to get my ass to some stores and I was scared to do so

Due to some ethnic ambiguity i am not sure how i am perceived nor if anyone is actually looking, but when i'm navigating through the chaotic narrow alleys i feel like i stand out like an egg plant burrowing among potatoes. I sense the looming buildings and all the chilling cows gossip to each other and see through me as if i were transparent. Most of this is due to my fear and as a result a projection of my own inner insecurities, but whatever the rational thought may and should be, leaving the room sometimes feels like embarking upon a tiathlon. additionally, because of crazy urbanization i haven't been able to create a coherent cognitive map of my area so i get lost all the time and have absolutely no clue where anything is. everything pointed towards a very bad brew that smelled only of disaster.

This is getting long so i won't go into more details, because it's pretty much i just went to stores and bought things without my fear of being gobbled up by the city materializing. But i almost did give up, and i heard the referee counting to 9 before i got up again and fought it out like a true American Rocky-esque fashion. in fact after i initially mustered the courage to set my right foot over the door-sill, i immediately got lost, ran into an alley where goats and chickens were being slaughtered (literally), found potential stores but felt too awkward/scared to enter, and decided that i had to retreat and regroup. i then asked myself, 10 years from now will i be able to look myself in the mirror for running away from this trial? and so i set out once again and methodically made purchase after purchase until i was drinking my trophy tea triumphantly in my room. Just for a reference to how historic this was, i think armstrong setting foot on the moon has nothing on me except his cool space boots. you had to be there to feel it cause i don't know what was in that tea but i flew to the moon.

That was the first part of tea week (yes there's more...). the following day i received an invitation from Fulbright foundation to have High tea at the Imperial hotel with the director or peope high up in the department of education or something like that. This tea was effortless, and probably cost more than how much it'll cost me to drink tea for a month. i will most likely never be able to afford, or at least if not for financial reasons then for emotional and moral reasons, to go there again. But it did highlight how with position, privilege and connections i easily gained access to what in a credentialist society is more valuable, whereas my little adventure was spiritually and physically lot more satisfying and soothing, as well as much more tasty, but meaningful pretty much only to me. The week revealed exactly how privileged i was to be in this program and the Imperial hotel was a fitting site because without power acquired through imperialism and exploitation that hotel wouldn't have existed and i would not have took part in it, because i was born into a position where i can surf the waves of history, while others were and are drowned in it, and it could have easily been the other way around.

All and all a very humbling experience and reveals the courageousness of many immigrants who are able to make ends meet despite the everyday paralyzing forces that abound, especially in xenophobic racist, self righteous countries. Finally, simply and plainly it made me realize how much i miss my community and my people and people with whom i can share a nice cup of tea.