Leaving the Singapore customs and crossing the strait bridge into Malaysia, a two-hour non-stop journey brings you to Malacca. The city is small but international, and also very Chinese. As a city with great global recognition, the compactness of Malacca is unexpectedly charming.
Malacca has deep ties with China, and Chinese elements can be found everywhere within and outside the city. Walking through the old town of Malacca, the streets are lined with ornate houses, restaurants with red lanterns, wooden doors adorned with couplets, and Chinese characters on store signs.
Especially when walking along Jonker Street, the bustling street is composed entirely of old-style buildings with verandas. Inside, you'll see many Chinese guild halls, such as the Fujian Guild Hall and the Hainan Guild Hall. The Chinese signs and the streets filled with Chinese speakers make you feel as if you've arrived in another hometown.
In the southeast suburb of the city, there is a hill over a hundred meters high, known as “Sanbao Hill.” Zheng He, during his seven voyages to the West, anchored in Malacca five times. The local Chinese named this small hill where he often visited and strolled after his childhood nickname, and it was officially recognized as a national cultural heritage site by the Malaysian Federal Parliament. There are more than 12,500 graves on Sanbao Hill, making it the largest cemetery for overseas Chinese. On Sanbao Hill, there is a temple called “Sanbao Temple,” which houses a statue of Zheng He. Not far from the temple, at the foot of the mountain, stands a monument erected in memory of the Chinese killed by the Japanese during World War II.
However, my main purpose for traveling to Malacca was not for sightseeing, but for a tea gathering that spanned oceans and skies. While still in China, I told my tea friend Apui that I would be passing through Malacca on my way to Kuala Lumpur. Upon hearing about Malacca, Apui became excited, mentioning that he had a good tea friend there who loved tea and had some excellent varieties. He insisted that we must arrange a tea meeting while in Malacca. With that, he immediately made an overseas call and put me on the phone with Ah Bing in Malacca, preliminarily setting a date for our overseas tea gathering a week later.
Ah Bing was truly warm-hearted. As soon as I left Singapore, he began contacting me by phone. He then sent WeChat voice messages asking about my location and repeatedly informed me of the route and surrounding scenery for our meeting point. Meanwhile, I tried to imagine his age and appearance based on his voice, tone, and enthusiasm. Sure enough, as I approached the central square of Malacca, I immediately recognized a man of medium height, with a dark complexion and around fifty years old, eagerly looking around among the tourists by the fountain – it was Ah Bing.
Ah Bing set up the tea gathering with great flair at the highest point in Malacca City. On the spacious St. Paul's Hill, a large parasol provided shade, under which a simple tea table, chairs, and tea utensils were arranged. Two other Chinese Tea enthusiasts were already waiting there. After a warm greeting, we all sat down, and Ah Bing began to prepare the tea with utmost care. From an old Bamboo basket, Ah Bing scooped out several spoons of coarse, brownish-black dry tea leaves, placing them into a covered bowl. A charcoal stove, an old iron kettle, and mountain spring water were used. Boiling water was poured in, and the delicate aroma of the tea gradually spread.
The aroma of the tea was not flashy or ostentatious, but rather solid and stable, imbued with a profound sense of time. Through a glass pitcher, the liquor appeared wine-red and bright, with a lustrous, matte finish, showing the oiliness that only comes with significant aging. Picking up the teacup and taking a light sip, the liquor felt full-bodied, and a sweet, thick, aged flavor reminiscent of damp wood after rain filled the mouth. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, savoring the tea slowly as it slid down my throat, rich and mellow, smooth and sweet. Taking another breath, the depth of the throat resonance and the lingering aged aroma were remarkable. Opening my eyes, I couldn't help but exclaim: “What a wonderful tea, full of mature character!”
As we began brewing the tea, Ah Bing started to share stories about tea with me, the “foreigner.” He explained that Malaysians, with Malays and indigenous Orang Asli comprising 65% of the population, Indians about 8%, and Chinese around 25%, drink tea throughout the day, whether for breakfast, lunch, dinner, or late-night snacks. The tradition of tea drinking in Malaysia was influenced by the British in the early 20th century, with an annual per capita consumption of over 900 grams of tea, ranking 13th in the world, ahead of China, the birthplace of tea.
The local production of tea in Malaysia is only around 3,000 tons, so most of the tea consumed is imported, with approximately 27,000 tons imported annually from countries like China, Indonesia, Vietnam, Sri Lanka, India, America, and East Africa.
Mainland China is a significant source of tea imports for Malaysia. In 2021, it surpassed Morocco to become the second-largest trading partner for Chinese tea exports, with a continuous growth trend. The trade volume increased by over 40% annually, and the export volume grew by over 20% annually. Generally, urban residents tend to drink black tea and often add milk and a little sugar. The Chinese community in Malaysia primarily migrated from Guangdong and Fujian in the 1930s and 1940s, inheriting the tea-drinking habits of these regions. You can roughly determine a family's ancestral origin based on the type of tea they drink at home: Fujianese prefer rock oolong and Tieguanyin; Cantonese prefer Liubao and Pu'er; Hakka people favor Green Tea; Chaozhou people enjoy Phoenix Dancong; and Fuzhou people drink fragrant teas.
In Chinese households in Malaysia, a low-rimmed basket is typically placed on the table, containing a thermos, a large porcelain teapot, and a stack of cups or bowls. Both adults and children help themselves when thirsty. Almost every household follows this practice, with the only difference being the type of tea served. Since Ah Bing is from Guangzhou, the opening tea he served today was a 1960s vintage Liubao.
This aged Liubao tea was remarkably robust, maintaining its deep, chestnut-red color even after fifteen or sixteen infusions without becoming watery, leaving a lingering aftertaste in the throat. After tidying up the remnants of the first session, the star of the second session made its grand entrance.
Ah Bing scooped out 15 grams of compressed tea from a small clay jar, and it was immediately apparent that it was raw Pu'er tea. Upon closer inspection, it was of a certain age but not too old. As Ah Bing prepared for the first infusion, he chatted with me: Before 2000, very few people