Typhoon in a Tea Cup

Over a week ago, I set off for my autumn adventure to Asia. I envisioned traveling through different regions, searching for tea and new mountain experiences. I imagined breathing in the fresh mountain air, rejuvenating my lungs after a year of Miami’s humidity. I was eager to reconnect with tea people, immerse myself in Vietnam’s evolving tea culture, and witness how much had changed since my last visit. My plan was to split my time between the tea-growing regions and Hanoi, using my city time to reflect on and integrate everything I learned.

But life, and Mother Nature often remind you who’s really the big boss.

I arrived in Hanoi at the same time as the unwelcome arrival of Typhoon Yagi. I first sought shelter in a hotel near Hoan Kiem Lake, later moving to a temporary apartment near West Lake. While I was fortunate to avoid power outages and flooding that affected much of the city, the damage was undeniable. Massive trees, some that had stood for generations, lay toppled across the streets, their roots violently ripped from the earth. Reports said that 10% of the city's trees had fallen, and navigating through this chaos was both heartbreaking and challenging. Outside the city, flooding and instability made travel unsafe, reinforcing the feeling of being grounded in a place that was itself shaken.

Hanoi is one of those places that quietly hums with history, much like the tea I came here to explore. The loss of these ancient trees, these  living markers of time and memory, felt like a reminder of the fragility of life and nature. Trees, like people, hold stories in their roots, and their sudden absence left a gap in the city's rhythm. Yesterday, I heard the story of a woman who had been selling trà đá (iced tea) from under one of those big trees for over 20 years. Now, her little shop was gone.

What I’m learning about Vietnamese tea, especially in the wake of this typhoon, is that like these heritage trees of Hanoi, tea and tea culture in Vietnam are a living connection to the land, its people, and their unfolding story. These stories aren’t just rooted in the soil - they flow through each cup, carrying centuries of resilience and renewal, much like the trees that stood as guardians on these streets.

Though the storm swept away many of my initial plans, it also created space for unexpected and beautiful experiences. I’ve tasted some incredible teas, but more importantly, I’ve connected with incredible tea people who have expanded my worldview and deepened my understanding of Vietnam and its tea culture.

Thanks to the Vietnam Organic Specialty Tea Alliance, I spent this weekend immersed in sharing, educating, and learning. On Saturday, I conducted a workshop at Chie, a beautiful shop that empowers and collaborates with ethnic minority women to promote authentic handicrafts and sustainable livelihoods in Vietnam. Together, we explored the science of tea preparation, diving deep into its complexities. One of the most moving moments was when an accomplished young H’mong artist, Ly Mi Cuong, from a tea-producing family in Ha Giang, serenaded us with a song at the session’s conclusion. His music, blending the spirit of the mountains with modern cultural expression, was a special moment of creativity and connection, a reminder of how tea and culture have the power to bring people together. Over and over I am reminded, tea truly is the great connector.

On Sunday, I led a lecture and roundtable at Lua Decor with established tea producers and artisans, educating a student-run group called SANSE on the science of tea. SANSE is a non-profit, student-led organization promoting long-term, sustainable development for the impoverished ethnic minority community of Bản Liền commune in Lào Cai province. This incredible group of young people is working hard to build a brighter future for their community and their country.

Throughout the week, I also made time to deepen my understanding of Vietnam by visiting the Museum of Ethnology and the Temple of Literature - both visits were incredibly enriching experiences that gave me greater context for the country’s history and culture.

Beyond these experiences, I had the privilege of connecting with a diverse group of dynamic individuals who are shaping the future of Vietnam’s tea industry. We shared deep conversations, drank remarkable teas, and exchanged invaluable knowledge, learning from each other and strengthening my understanding of Vietnamese tea culture. At times, this took place while the rains and winds raged outside, a fitting backdrop for the resilience and passion that infused our meetings. I’m especially grateful for the time and connection they shared with me, even amid the uncertainty of the weather.

Vietnam’s modern tea culture is complex, with old traditions weaving through contemporary tastes. This journey has been less about finding what I expected and more about discovering beauty in the unexpected.

Even though Vietnam has a deep-rooted history with tea, it’s still a country where tea is finding its place, and there’s something remarkable about witnessing its growth in real time.

For now, I keep moving forward, grateful for the lessons hidden in these challenges and for the time to connect, reflect, and write. There are stories still waiting to be told. And food waiting to be eaten. Tomorrow is the Mid-Autumn Festival, and I have more workshops lined up this week. Mooncakes and mountains are calling, bringing with them more tea, more adventures, and hopefully, more sunny skies.