The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane(109)
3. Yes, I see this as a multiyear study, which I hope to pursue whether I’m accepted into Stanford’s graduate program or I go to one of the East Coast universities already recruiting me. For now, though, I’d like to begin my research in the way I outlined in my earlier e-mail.
4. As for your question about the health benefits of tea, let me just say that there are currently two hundred studies being undertaken around the world addressing this topic. Believe me, I’m going into this with my eyes wide open and with all the skepticism and rigor Western science should bring to the table.
5. Point One: The fact that I asked you to be my adviser has nothing to do with your race. I thought—and continue to believe—that your work on the effects of air particulates on children living in the Yangtze delta was a good match. Point Two: I appreciate your suggestion that I incorporate Chinese poetry and philosophy into my thesis. In fact, I’ve already done a little research and think it might be more inclusive—and provocative—to include some popular American thoughts about tea as well. For example, a recent issue of Bon Appétit devoted space—I believe for the first time—to tea. In it, American culinary pioneer Alice Waters credited Pu’er for helping to lower her cholesterol by 100 points and get her “off coffee.” It’s not poetry, obviously, but if someone like Alice Waters says something like that so publicly, especially if it’s in a food magazine and not a scientific journal, won’t that drive interest in tea in general and Pu’er in particular? And won’t that, in turn, make the issue of the effects of climate change on tea trees even more pressing?
In closing, I need to address your concerns about my traveling companion. While no one can fully understand another person’s motives, I doubt he has any romantic interest in me. (I assume that’s what you were suggesting. If not, I’m hugely embarrassed.) He’s a tea nerd. I hadn’t known such a thing existed, but it does. I feel lucky to have connected with an expert in the field who can address so many of your logistical concerns.
I hope you will still consider being my adviser.
Sincerely,
Haley Davis
* * *
Dear Haley,
Of course, I know your mother. Everyone in our field knows your mother for the quality and importance of her work. We’ve been attempting to recruit her for our Biology Department for years. She’s always said she didn’t want to uproot her family. I should have put two and two together. It’s my own ignorance that didn’t allow me to match your name and your talents to her face. I apologize.
I apologize as well for my part in the other misunderstanding. I will gladly be your adviser. Come to my office hours next Tuesday for further discussion. Among other things, I’d like to know, given your last e-mail, if you’ll be looking at tea in general or just this Pu’er that you mentioned. I see some real benefits in narrowing from a panoramic and encyclopedic view to going in depth on one varietal.
Until Tuesday,
Professor Annabeth Ho
* * *
Dear Professor Ho,
Yay! My mother will be so excited when I tell her. I am very much looking forward to working with you.
Haley
AS UNCONTROLLABLE AS THE WIND
“Are you stalking me?” I ask. “No matter where I go, there you are.”
“Ah, Tina.” Mr. Huang gives me an ingratiating smile. “Maybe we’re meant to know each other. Have you ever thought about that?”
No.
“I call you by your American name,” he says. “When will you start calling me by mine? John.”
Never.
We’re on the terrace of the teahouse in the Chinese scholar’s garden at the Huntington Library. It’s early February, and we’re here to celebrate the forthcoming Year of the Monkey and to help raise funds for the final phase of the Chinese garden. Heaters warm the terrace, Chinese lanterns hanging in trees along the lakeside cast a ruby glow, champagne and appetizers are passed. Anyone who’s anyone in the Chinese American community in Los Angeles is here: East West Bank’s Dominic Ng and his wife; Panda Express’s Peggy and Andrew Cherng; and the toy mogul Woo brothers. Some speak in Mandarin, but most use English so as not to be rude to the old-money Pasadena couples who’ve been supporting the Huntington for decades.
“Is Xian-rong enjoying his new home?” I inquire, trying to be polite. Jin’s company sold Mr. Huang and his son houses—mansions, really—in San Marino and Pasadena, respectively.
He shrugs. “It’s good to have him close by. The economy is slowing in China. We can make more money with my cranes here. You’ll be seeing us much more now.”
I smile, but he’s known me so long that he has to realize it’s not sincere.
“I’ll be going to the tea mountains in the spring for tea picking,” he goes on, unfazed. “May I visit?”
“You’re always welcome in Spring Well Village,” I answer. “I’ll never forget how you and Xian-rong helped me when the bubble burst.”
“This year, will you take me to your hidden—”
“I’m not too old to be still learning new English words. Incorrigible. Do you know that one?”
He drops all pretense of casual conversation. “Have you heard that the Pu’er Tea College now has a study base with a GPS system that can locate every tea tree over a thousand years old on Yunnan’s twenty-six tea mountains?”