Having seen where and how it is grown, Sophia and I now venture forth to learn how it is served. The tea ceremony is somewhat of a mystery to us. Such ritual we cannot fully understand, but at least we can see how it is done and observe.
Nervously, we enter into Sensei Kato's home to learn something of the fine art. We are seated on the tatami matting, generously welcomed as special visitors from abroad. How long can we sit on our legs before the numbing causes a lack of circulation and a squealing Australian cry resonates through the paper thin doors? How do the Japanese sit like that for hours? We meet the other students and are introduced, we bow deeply to the floor and try to learn the art of bowing before we learn the art of the ocha ceremony. Bowing seems to be easy now, although my Japanese friend insists that my bow looks more like a bow reserved for meeting the Emperor or the next Samurai.
I look at our Sensei. Sensei Sato, a specialist in the art of tea ceremony. She is 88 years old. She sits on her legs for the entire three hours, she is described by Sensei Kato as lively. Well, she sure is doing better than me with that kneeling position. I bow deeply to her, my hands in front, on the ground. I bow my Emperor bow to her, it seems appropriate. Sensei Sato has been teaching the art of the tea ceremony for over 50 years. I give her the best and deepest bow that I know.
Before I pass out from lack of circulation to the limbs I am asked if I would like to sit in a seat. A welcome invitation, the Japanese seem to understand the difficulty we foreigners have with kneeling or was, "help my legs are killing me", written all over my forehead? Apart from Sophia I am the youngest person at the tea ceremony, yet, I have to sit on the seat. Oh dear!
Sophia and I sit and observe. One by one the Japanese students prepare and make the tea, mutter some words and bow again. Sensei Sato corrects their movements. The small urn needs to placed in the most particular way, the prettiest side of the ceramic pot pointing to the guests, everyone seems to have trouble with its' precise position. A little back, a little further around. And how to open the lid? The tea must be checked by the guest who is drinking it, turn it twice, open and smell. It is a brilliant bright green. Not iridescent, but green like a grove of cypress pine.
It is my turn now, back onto my knees I kneel.
Now that I am in the special serving position, I should be feeling terribly nervous. The other guests have giggled with embarrassment at their mistakes and now it is my turn. Knowing that every move and touch of the cup and plate will be incorrect I should be worrying myself into a deep sweat alike to the summer heat just passed. But these wise women and one man put me at ease. It doesn't matter how badly I receive my sweet or slurp my tea. In fact I am instructed to make loud gulping noises, oo and ahhs to describe how delicious it all is. I must subtly vocalise my delight in this whole process. Firstly I am handed a sweet that represents the season, currently autumn. Japanese people are happy when the autumn persimmon arrive, it is almost as favourable as the cherry blossom in the spring. It is true, now, there are persimmons on ever corner. Round orange fruit hanging from trees all over Japan. Does anyone have a recipe for persimmons?
My first test. I am handed the sweet to eat first. Somehow I am supposed to cut this Japanese sweet with a little piece of wood, not much bigger than a toothpick. Ah, it is stuck, mm, what to do? All eyes are on me now, they look to see how I enjoy it. I decide to chuck the whole thing in and chew. It wasn't very lady like really, certainly not Japanese at all. I am left with a smudge of stuck-on bean sweet on the paper. Maybe I should just stuff that in my pocket to hide the remnant mess.But am saved by Sensei Kato who quickly eradicates the foreigners evidence from the room. It is then time to try the green tea. It is thick, cypress grove green and looks chunky! Gosh, again everyone watches to see if I like it. Sensei Sato corrects me as I hold the bowl of tea with the wrong hand, I drink it as quickly as I can. Luckily it is not as bitter as I had feared. I have passed the initial test of Tea Ceremony. It is a true art that is studied for years and years. The most promising student is a lady who has a lesson each week and has done so for three years. She folds the drinking cloth with finesse, rotates the bowl and places every vessel perfectly. It is mesmerizing to watch her, she is so fluent and at ease in this surprisingly exquisite art form of the Tea Ceremony.
xx
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