I grew up in a place where the default tea was green tea. Adults carried glass tumblers with leaves floating at the top; when guests arrived, my parents would brew a pot and hand it around. I never picked up the habit. If I was thirsty, I drank water. The occasional packet of tea that came my way usually sat in the cupboard until it went stale.
Then I arrived in Chaoshan and met gongfu tea. A tea tray on the table, small cups and tools arranged on it. The host lifts the kettle, rinses the cups, brews, pours—it looks like a tea ceremony from television. At first I took it for a refined form of performance art. Gradually I realized that gongfu tea has nothing to do with class. Vendors in wet markets, owners of small shops, renovation workers—all of them keep a simple set in some corner and drink a few cups when there is a lull. For them it is not an occasion; it is part of the day's background.
Many colleagues drink tea instead of water. I asked why. Water has no taste, they said; tea tastes better. Tea has simply become their beverage, something they reach for the way I reach for a glass of water.
People drank tea in the past, too. In Dream of the Red Chamber, tea is brewed in summer with melted snow that had been sealed and stored—the world of the rich is hard to imagine. In The Plum in the Golden Vase there is a line: "Tea brings flirtation together; wine is the matchmaker of lust." That gives some sense of tea's role.
Chinese people often say tea is good for health. Never mind whether the idea of drinking tea to preserve health is itself a dubious premise; the health benefits are not well evidenced. Still, I agree that tea is better than alcohol—at least drinking tea does not leave you feeling awful.
Why do Chaoshan people drink gongfu tea as a habit? Probably history and tradition: a custom formed over centuries. It is like another tradition here—burning paper money on the first and fifteenth days of the lunar month. It may not have any practical effect, but once it becomes a habit, people keep doing it.
When you visit someone's home, the host is warm and treats you to gongfu tea. At first I had reservations about using someone else's cup, but I was too polite to refuse. Over time I got used to it, telling myself it would not be so unlucky as to catch something. Honestly, sharing cups this way is not very hygienic; cross-infection is easy, and boiling water cannot completely kill germs.
Jasmine found gongfu tea amusing and bought a set. She pulled me into drinking with her a few times. Once the novelty wore off, the set went up on a shelf. I have been here for years now and still rarely drink tea. I know gongfu tea is all around me, but it has little to do with me.