Xigui 2019

This pu'erh raw comes from the remote, historic mountain village, Xigui, of Lincang Prefecture. When we visited this village, at the foothill of Daxueshan 大雪山 (Big Snow Mountain), we drove for many hours, winding upwards between the peaks of this dense mountain range. The blue sky was reflected in the water of the Lancang River below and, as we gained elevation, we could catch its shimmer coming through the banana and bamboo trees that lined the muddy roads. The mud of these narrow, tired roads was the same dark yellow colour it would have been one thousand years ago, when it was Tea Horse Road -- the ancient route used to transport tea to Tibet, Mongolia, and the emperor.

Arriving in the village of Xigui, at 3200 ft above sea level, is like having unfolded the mountains to discover a secret they've been conspiring with the clouds to keep. The name of the village, Xigui 昔归, is worth noting for how poetic it is. The first character, xi (昔) loosely translates to former times, or 'the past'. The second character, gui (归), loosely translates to "go back to," "belong to," or "return to." The movement in this name is backwards, and also, in-to.

This tea comes from the family of Zhang Tianwen, who have been inhabitants of these mountains for generations. The tea trees are roughly 200 years old. They grow on the steep hills overlooking the valley and rivers beneath them. They are surprisingly small and delicate looking, with mottled bark and curling branches. But their age and vitality is evident in the moss and the fungi covering their trunks, the width of their branches, and the abundance of dark, shiny green leaves they produce.

Wet, in a gaiwan, the leaves are dark, with a slight sheen, and very fragrant. The vividness of the leaves as they progress through infusions invite us to consider how lived experience carries forward: memories that remain generous and vibrant, and which we are nourished by recalling.

We drink this tea when we would like time to reflect, and the stabilizing sensation of reflection. It gently encourages us to integrate experiences. In this way Xigui is both a fortifying tea and a transportive one, moving us backwards, and into.