(Nik)
Today Abby's family planned our activities: we would ride horses and then pick and dry Longjing tea. The day was beautiful; sunny with thin wispy clouds and not too hot.
When I was told I would be riding horses, here's what I imagined. Driving to an idyllic country village, saddling a wild horse in a colorful, well crafted saddle, and taking off after a trail guide for a half hour ride through nature. After driving out into the suburbs, we came to the elite-sounding Hangzhou Equestrian Club, where a dispute over where to park delayed us a good half hour. Ola's dad then took us to a nearby restaurant for refreshments: fruit, tea, and tea derived snacks. The group made the acquaintance with the owner's nine-year old son who charmed us so much we invited him to ride the horses with us. Also in attendance was Ola's brother's lady friend from last weekend.
The party had bought enough tickets for all the kids to ride, and with some convincing we all did. The track was nothing advanced: a small ellipse surrounding water, dotted with shady trees and rose bushes. The horses were not really under our control, so they often stopped to literally smell the roses, and on several occasions, eat them. Other than that, the rides were rather uneventful, at least until a horse trainer with a cowboy hat stuck behind your horse to spook it into speeding up.
The horses eating their shrubbery made us hungry, so the drivers were sent back for the cars (someone ingeniously thought we should walk the mile between the restaurant and club) and we made friends with some exuberant youths of kindergarten age. The parents were cool with their children playing with strangers, one mother wanted her daughter to call us her aunts and uncles. I am continually amazed by how easily people made connections with strangers, how everyone around you has the potential to be an acquaintance if not a firm friend by the end of the day. The parents sat with strangers for lunch and spent three hours talking to them over MORE DUCK TONGUE; at least I recognized it this time before the lady friend snatched some to rapidly consume before dropping her scrap to the adorable black dog running around begging.
While the parents were making friends, we sat in the shade until Ivy asked if we wanted to play cards. The game she wanted to play was relatively simple; laying down cards and slapping them when the line of cards was book ended by two of the same numbers, and soon we were slamming the table and jumping around like humans possessed as we started to win some rounds. I, however, do not have the reflexes to compete with my friends, and was the first to run out of cards (in other words: lose)
After this we marched to a tea field where tea picking is done as both vocation and avocation. The older ladies already there were true professionals; able to spot the correct form of tea buds on bushes we all had thought were picked clean. All in all I collected maybe 30 good buds. A good bud is considered the best when it has a stem and two leaves all of roughly equal length, not too big or too small or too yellow or brown. After tea picking we got to see the room where the tea is "fried" to remove moisture. The traditional method involves scraping the side of a metal cauldron that is scalding hot to mix the leaves. My host mom, however, developed what I suspect will become a new popular cooking technique for Longjing tea. Treat it like an egg and fry it in a pan with a spatula.
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