Chapter 71 Teahouses in Nanjing

In Beijing, the Sanlitun Bar, which is full of foreign flavors, dwarfs the Laoshe Teahouse, which symbolizes an old era.But in Nanjing, my hometown, it is rare to see bars, and the business of teahouses is still booming.It can be seen that Nanjing is a very traditional city. This is probably related to the character of Nanjing people.Just like when my uncle came to Beijing for a tour, he suddenly asked me to serve him a bowl of noodles at dinner one day.Because I didn't prepare in advance, I was a little embarrassed: "What's so delicious about noodles?" He hesitated and said: "Today is my birthday." I hurried to the supermarket downstairs to buy a cake, but he discouraged me: " Chinese people celebrate their birthdays with noodles.” He found a few bags of Master Kong in the refrigerator and said, “You can use this instead.” That night, my uncle spent his birthday symbolically with instant noodles.A bag of Master Kong became his longevity noodles.Still, he thought candles were more of a ritual than a cream cake.My uncle is a very typical Nanjinger.

I have many fellow villagers who come from Nanjing and want to go to the bar street in Sanlitun, but they are always disappointed: "It's so crowded and noisy, it's not as comfortable as a teahouse!" What annoys them most is that there is a rock band The kind of accompaniment, from the likes and dislikes of teahouses and bars, also reflects the difference between the two cities. Nanjing is "safe" and classical, and cannot become a modern international metropolis that combines Chinese and Western like Beijing.In Nanjing, even newcomers are used to squandering their youth in teahouses.In the teahouses in Nanjing, there are many young men and women. Although they wear famous brands, they play poker and chess calmly, date or discuss business.Why are they not impetuous at all?Could this be the different effects of tea and alcohol?I often think that if I invite my Beijing friends who are used to going to bars to come to the teahouses in the south and have a look at their peers, they will definitely be surprised.Maybe they will write a few indignant "cool reviews" after shaking their heads.

what else can we do?It seems that the south does not naturally produce "angry youths", and does not pursue pioneers or alternatives.In this so-called city where "tea servants and bartenders all have the smoke and water of the Six Dynasties", if you stay for a long time, no matter how stubborn your heart is, it will be softened by pot after pot of hot tea.How should I describe the Nanjing people who stick to the traditional teahouses: very well-behaved, very responsible, very honest, very gentle or very delicate... This seems to have become their genetic genes. In fact, this is quite an enviable place.When I was in Beijing, after experiencing the hustle and bustle, I often dreamed of returning to the banks of the Qinhuai River with the sound of oars and lights, sitting in the tea house of the Confucius Temple, cooking dried shredded silk and buttered sesame cakes, and tasting freshly picked Yuhua tea ——In the refreshing fragrance, you not only forget yourself, but also forget the world... What soaks the tea is ancient time.

I am afraid that in order to distinguish it from Lao She's era (Lao She also made teahouses old), Nanjing people generally call teahouses teahouses.For the shopkeeper, it can be a bit less commercial; but for the customers, it sounds more elegant, more like likes to flock... I don't know if they think so. When I went back to my hometown, old friends invited me to meet at various teahouses.Almost all of them regard the teahouse as their living room. They arrive early and wait for me while reading the newspaper. I can always see a hand waving enthusiastically as soon as I enter the door. The teahouse in Nanjing is much larger than the bars in Beijing. It is often divided into upper and lower floors, and the decoration is very layered, giving people the feeling of a deep courtyard.Due to the wide distance between the tables and the slow voice of the customers (not out of politeness, but because of their personality), they do their own thing without interfering with each other.Unlike Beijing's bars, it has a too strong artistic conception of a courtyard.In the teahouses in Nanjing, even the reunion of old friends who have been away for many years is very gentle, as if the mood has become peaceful and open-minded because of the environment.Many omitted words and restrained excitement are deposited in the teapot that is brewed over and over again for slow tasting-this may be the taste of life.To be honest, I really like this back-to-basics feeling.Living like this is not tiring.The tea house is a place to calm people's anxiety, hypocrisy, impetuousness and all exaggerated thoughts.

Zhou Jun, a poet, owns a bookstore in the "Yangtze River Delta" market. Every morning he is busy with buying goods and other business, and in the afternoon he leaves it all to the clerk. He slips alone to the "Maokong" on Shanghai Road, which is run by a Taiwanese. chain store.He said that if there is anything to do in the afternoon, just go to "Maokong" to find him.He said that when making a teahouse, he would forget that he was a businessman and regain the feeling of a poet.For him, making tea in a teahouse is probably equivalent to a spiritual sauna.In the material world, the teahouse becomes a sanctuary for a poet, who quietly enjoys his afternoon tea, the buffet of his soul.I have chatted with Zhou Jun in "Maokong" many times, and I can't smell a bit of copper smell from him.What he likes to talk about is art, poetry, fate—these topics seem outdated.But in a teahouse with nostalgic undertones, it all seemed in tune.Teahouses can blur the boundary between ideal and reality.But I have to explain: in the teahouses in Nanjing, people like Zhou Jun are quite "different".

The best business is "Tianshui Yaji".Someone asked me to go there a few times, and almost every time I had to sit on the bench in the foyer and wait for a seat, watching the lively scene inside, until it was finally my turn, and I was very glad to join in. ...Through the floor-to-ceiling glass, it is like looking at tropical fish in an aquarium.When making tea in a teahouse, maybe one's soul is already wearing a bathing suit.Is queuing up for tea a scene that can only be seen in Nanjing?It was a kind of expectation for moisture. My favorite is the "Tianming Tea House" opposite the Drum Tower.It is located at the ruins of the Great Bell Pavilion in the Ming Dynasty, and has a courtyard with rockery, goldfish ponds and winding paths.The tea house is an antique building: red painted beams and columns, carved windows, wooden railings and so on.When it's time to eat, you can also order food - the chef's craftsmanship is also very good.It's not a depressing way to spend a whole day in here - especially if you have a few good friends with you.There is no bell in the big bell pavilion.But drinking tea here, I can hear the distant bells—like almost disappearing ripples.Could it be an auditory hallucination?

The teahouses in Nanjing have the idleness and tranquility that have been lost in Beijing.The pace of Nanjing people's integration with the world is indeed slower, slower.This kind of slowness is deep in the bones and it is difficult to break.But if it does break, is it worth the loss?There are many pleasures accompanying this kind of slowness, which have constituted the source of happiness for Nanjing people.Therefore, Nanjing people who stick to the teahouse are also very faithful to their biological clock.In such a fast-paced era, the slowness of Nanjing people also requires a strong resistance.Can't say it's not an added power.