The Laoshe Teahouse offers a cultural insight
into the Middle Kingdom through its daily Peking Opera
performances. Wang Lu (right) plays Yang Zaiguang, a Song Dynasty
(960-1279) general in this excerpt from Xiaoshanghe.
On a big white screen in front of a hall decorated with
traditional Chinese lanterns, tables and chairs, the Monkey King
springs into the air and attacks the demon with his golden cudgel.
To the accompaniment of local opera music and drumbeats, the demon
retorts with a mouthful of fire.
Among the enchanted audience, Charlie Yang, a Chinese-American
film producer from Hollywood, marvelled at the magical art of the
ancient piyingxi shadow play: "It can be thought of as the oldest
movie! It is an excellent expression of multi-media, with sound,
light and shadow."
Yang is among hundreds of thousands of overseas guests drawn to
the Laoshe Teahouse, a unique venue where patrons can drink up
gallons of tea and a sea of genuine folk culture.
Upon entering the teahouse, every visitor is greeted by a
life-size photograph of former United States President George Bush
with the founder of the teahouse, Yin Shengxi, hung in the
entryway.
When Yin led a dozen unemployed youngsters to open a simple tea
stand to the south of the Tian'anmen Square in 1979, little did he
or anyone else imagine that someday they would entertain such
foreign dignitaries as former US State Secretary Henry Kissinger,
former Japanese Premier Toshiki Kaifu and ex-Kuomintang Chairman
Lien Chan.
Yin Shengxi (right) and his daughter Yin
Zhijun serve the big-bowl tea to customers in the early
1990s.
Selling tea doesn't sound like a fancy business today, but in 1979,
the country was still recovering from the "cultural revolution"
(1966-76) and private businesses were few and far between. When
people were thirsty, they had to drink tap water on the streets.
Furnished with a few tables and big teapots, the tea stand
offered passers-by a big bowl of tea boiled with low-grade leaves.
Visitors could also enjoy tanghulu (a sugar-coated hawthorn),
photos of stars and small electric appliances.
"I often finished a breakfast at 0.10 yuan (about 1 US cent):
0.02 for tea and 0.08 for a pancake," Yin Zhijun, daughter of Yin
Shengxi and general manager of the teahouse, said, recalling her
childhood.
Through a decade of hard work, the tea stand finally generated
enough money for the three-story building, which came to be known
as "Laoshe Teahouse".
A waiter entertains guests by pouring tea
into the sancaibei cup with a long-spouted copper
teapot.?
Teahouse (Chaguan), the famed play by Chinese writer Lao She
(1899-1966), tracks the vicissitudes of Beijing residents from the
waning days of the Qing Dynasty (1644-1911) to the end of World War
II.
All of Lao She's works shine with a genuine concern for common
people, and every time Teahouse is staged, the theatrical drama is
always a sensation.
Naming the teahouse after this writer is a fitting commemoration
and gives the teahouse a deeper purpose than just a place for
recreation.
Lao She's son Shu Yi gave the teahouse a novel manuscript sample
of his father's writing, which read "Beijing Big-Bowl Tea" (Beijing
Dawancha), for the teahouse to make a sign. Hu Jieqing, Laoshe's
wife, signed for the teahouse.
From the very beginning, Yin Shengxi believed in the magical
charm of traditional culture. The former headman of a supply and
market team of the Dashilar neighborhood community grew up in a
family fond of folk operas. However, enthusiasm didn't bring
booming business immediately.
By 1995, the teahouse had racked up 25 million yuan ($3 million)
in debt, Yin Zhijun said. The teahouse had to confine its operation
to the third floor and lease the first and second to clothing and
utensil dealers.
"It was the most difficult period," recalled Yin Zhijun, who
succeeded her father after he passed away in 2003. "Disco and
karaoke bars were very fashionable. It seemed that few cared about
traditional culture."
Former US President George Bush was one of
many world leaders who visited the famous
teahouse.??
With very few places to perform, many old folk artists found
Laoshe Teahouse to be their last haven. At times the hall was empty
except for the teahouse's staff, but they persisted.
Their persistence finally paid off when Kissinger visited the
teahouse in 1992, followed by George Bush in 1994.
These visits rocketed Laoshe Teahouse's reputation as a hotspot
for overseas tourists.
However, the teahouse still suffered from inefficient
management, as did other State-owned or collective enterprises in
the early 1990s. When Yin Zhijun graduated from college and became
a waitress at the teahouse in 1993, she found many colleagues would
chat, weave sweaters or even go out to buy vegetables during
shifts.
In 1996, an actor with the Beijing People's Art Theater, where
Teahouse is staged, was so angry at the cold faces that he swept
the teapot onto the floor.
"I realized we had to improve our service," Yin said.
She fired the incompetent staff, including some who had worked
there since 1979. Every year, two or three newcomers will replace
those employees who ranked last on the competence evaluation. She
also attaches great importance to training employees to be skilled
in the performance of the tea ceremony, English and computers.
Elected as general manager in the wake of SARS, which dealt a
heavy blow to the capital's tourism industry, the gentle but
resolute woman stood firm in the face of criticism. She reclaimed
the leased-out lower floors and spent more than 1 million yuan
($125,000) adding more traditional factors to the teahouse.
The first floor now features a stage where traditional Chinese
shadow puppet plays and folk music are performed as guests sip tea
and chew local snacks prepared by famous chefs. Chinese opera fans,
young and old, gather here to applaud their beloved stars.
The second floor has become a siheyuan courtyard decorated with
pumpkins, broomcorns and red peppers, which symbolize wealth and
auspiciousness.
Inside, Chinese tea ceremonies are performed. The rough bowls of
the early days have been replaced by exquisite tea ware. Sancaibei,
or three-talent-cup, has a lid which is said to represent the sky,
a cup signifying mankind and a saucer representing the earth.
Together, the set illustrates the ancient philosophy of tian ren he
yi, or humanity in harmony with nature.
When drinking, one should hold the saucer with the left hand,
lift the cover with the right thumb and middle finger to brush away
tea leaves. A small sip shows good manners and leisurely joy.
The third floor caters to guests who are interested in
traditional shows, including Peking Opera, cross-talk comedy,
magic, acrobats, face-changing and martial arts. Performances are
staged every night from 7:30 to 9:20.
"I don't know how they did it; it's a wonderful experience,"
David Beever, an investment banker from London, said upon a recent
visit.
Beever had been invited onstage as a volunteer to help the
magician tie up his assistant. He put on a silk coat and was
enveloped in a curtain along with the assistant.
When the curtain was lifted seconds later, the assistant was
wearing the silk coat, with her arms still tightly bound.
"I didn't feel a thing," Beever said. "What a brilliant trick
the magician did! The performances are stunning and very different
from what I expected."
"The best way to preserve Chinese culture is to develop it,"
said Yin, who always looks for high-quality folk arts for her
customers.
When Lien Chan visited the teahouse in 2005, he was very
impressed by the performances and the special Dafo Longjing Tea,
which Yin chose from Zhejiang Province. Lien wrote a couplet:
"Booming tea culture, harmonizing affections across the
Straits".
"My father didn't believe that Chinese culture, which has
endured for thousands of years, would become outdated," Yin said.
Her father passed away at 65 because of diabetic complications.
"He had been striving for decades to revive our traditional
culture. For me, the greatest joy is that I can continue his
work."
(China Daily April 24, 2007)
