Chai. I sip this mysterious ambrosia, cherishing the rich eastern flavors. Cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, and vanilla fused with black tea swirling in my mouth, mingling with honey and milk. You might say it tastes like Christmas. I kneel on a cashmere pillow, gazing at the sunrise from my balcony. Mudhavi the monkey scurries in, carrying a tray with more tea. I thank him by offering one of dozens of tinkling, metallic bangles that hug my arm. Wrapped in silks of crimson, cradling my ornate mug, I am an exotic princess in a faraway land.
Earl Grey. Slumped at my computer desk, I stare at the blank screen, probing my brain for some inspiration, waiting for the words to spring from my fingers. Wolfgang, my classically-trained cat, spreads his handsome, aristocratic self across my lap. I nudge my thick, black-framed glasses higher up my nose. Realizing I haven’t even touched my beverage yet, I grab the cup of Earl Grey and indulge myself. Suddenly things become clear.
“Wolfgang, I do believe I’ve got it.” His gold eyes blink and a small trill escapes from his whiskery, sardine-scented chops. The keyboard grabs my fingers and I’m gone, writing fine literature for the twenty-first century.
Chamomile. A sneeze explodes from my red, stinging nose. Snot drips incessantly, going on for three days now. My throat feels like it’s been scraped raw with sandpaper. Fluid fills all cavities in my head, and the pressure only continues to build. I sip the chamomile tea and sink back into the pillows. My bed travels to a field of daisies, where warm sunshine graces my body and The Cure plays nonstop. Smiling for the first time all day, I graciously accept this liquid comfort. My head floats high into the clouds, into sweet oblivion.
Green. I am meditating high up in the mountains of Shang Dang Dong. Bonzai trees, koi fish, dragons and golden buddhas circle my head. A gong crashes. My apprentice enters, bowing deeply. “Konichiwa,” he says. “What must I do, Sensei?”
“Fear not. This green tea you will drink,” I say. “Strength and wisdom it will give you.” I taste from my own cup. Smooth, delicate, and fragrant. I bet anything Yoda drank green tea.
Red Roibus. A mighty lion roaming the African plains, in search of the perfect thing to quench a parched mouth. I shake my flowing mane and bask in the fierce sunlight. A lone cup of red roibus tea awaits me near my favorite resting rock. I lap the sweet red nectar, appreciating the earthy, robust flavor. Rejuvenated, I muster up all my strength and roar so fiercely, it can be heard across the plains like the deepest thunder.
Each day I look forward to my favorite thing: a cup of hot, steaming tea. It warms the body, stimulates the mind, and soothes the soul. Each cup takes me on a unique liquid journey into the sublime.