Billy Enjoying a Fine Black Yunnan Tea
Billy, a homeless friend in the Pacific Beach area of San Diego took me canning this morning. Afterwards I served him the rare Yunnan black tea from the Dadugang Tea Company that we had visited in July on a cool, misty day in Yunnan, China.
“Canning” is the act of picking up used aluminum cans and plastic bottles from trash cans to sell to the recycling truck. For about two and one half hours of canning and tea drinking we made $26.75. Billy asked me a number of times if I wanted to split the money. As his apprentice, it was not right; I was there to learn a little about life on the streets. Besides, Billy would have made the same amount if I wasn’t there. It wasn’t like I found cans he would not have found. Billy said once you learn the craft of canning your harvest is based upon luck. At the end of the canning harvest Billy deemed us lucky.
The air was foggy; the sounds were dampened and the light gave a soft glow to the immediate surroundings. With Billy as my mentor he showed me how to jump up and lean on my stomach over the side of the large commercial trash containers in a modified approach to the complete immersion of dumpster diving. He also showed me how to pour water out of plastic water bottles over my hands to wash them as we moved through the alleys behind businesses, homes and churches. Billy knows from his canning work where the heavy drinkers live; even what mornings are likely to have a good haul of aluminum beer cans. Billy has memorized the combination lock number to many of the commercial trash cans that are locked. He has earned this trust by keeping the area clean and doing his work quietly.
We picked up no glass bottles: they are two heavy to carry and are a possible hazard to your hands. Billy always advised me on safety issues, including what broken windows to not walk under and what trash cans have maggots in them and are too risky even if there are cans and plastic bottles for the taking.
My own reaction was fairly predictable. I was very self conscious, squeamish and often disgusted in the beginning. After a while I made eye contact with every one and said hello to the friendly people. I began to take a Forrest Gump-like approach to swinging open a trash can and looking in with the thought, “Life is like a box of chocolate, you never know what you are going to get!” Well, so are the trash cans of Pacific Beach-you never know what you are going to get. Billy got a new pair of jeans and gave me a brand new watch; I turned down the brand new Nike’s in my size. Incidentally, I often tease Billy about being the Imelda Marcos of Pacific Beach. He usually has a different pair of shoes on every several days.
Billy is a thin blond man of Scottish descent who turned fifty this past June. He grew up in the Bronx and still carries the accent even though he came west shortly after high school. He said he doesn’t worry; he feels fairly content with his life. He also did point out that he prefers living indoors to outdoors. The term “living outdoors” is how Billy and his people describe their living condition. They put up with the description of “homeless” but don’t like all of the political baggage associated with the description. When they are being funny, they describe themselves as urban campers.
Billy has a place in an alley behind a hotel near the beach where he has a chair and access to an electric plug. We plugged in the Zojirushi tea kettle and brewed the rich black tea from Yunnan. While the tea is not expensive and is made from the largest tea plantation in Asia, it is still not available in the West. We spent several hours in the board room in diplomatically trying to convince the management to permit the West to enjoy their tea. They were interested and polite, but they sell all they make in China. The tea is fantastic, rich with a hint of a sweet flower smell in the aroma. I had served this same tea in Yosemite last week to the hikers and received rave reviews and a number of requests to buy my only 300 gram bag. This is a tea that tastes great in the board room, the national park and the alley. That is consistency in flavor and quality.
As we drank tea Billy and I talked about our lives and how we had come from such different directions to share a cup of tea in the alley. He told me of winters playing ice hockey and summers of baseball. I regaled him with a story of how I can not attend the lecture in Long Beach tomorrow by the Dali Lama because of a relationship entanglement. “Entanglement” is my euphanism for the fact that she has the tickets and I don’t have the desire to be entangled with her, even at the price of missing an experience with one of the most celebrated and widely followed spiritual leaders of our times. (My blog entry, “Tea With His Holiness The Dali Lama,” has been cancelled until further lifetimes.) Billy thought all of this was typical of my behavior. He did remind me that I was once asked to leave a church picnic, so maybe this was all for the better anyway. Nobody was going to ask us to leave the alley.
After our long tea break Billy and I dropped into the parking lot of the local Trader Joes where the recycling truck was buying everybodys’ morning haul. On my way home I felt deeply content and mellow, perhaps a feeling I would have gotten from being enightened in the presence of the Dali Lama. I hope I get to go canning with Billy again.
Savor your tea in the the moment.
Andy
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