VI
EN
Saigon in late May is known for its capricious weather. One moment the sun is shining brightly, pouring down like honey onto every eaves, and the next, gray clouds are gathering from the river. I had just managed to weave through the traffic on Le Thanh Ton Street when the first summer rain poured down. The wind swept through the rows of green tamarind trees, stirring up a thin layer of dust on the road.
In a fleeting moment, I looked up and saw the words "Tea'space" printed in small letters on a discreet whiteboard, hidden away on the second floor of an old house. Like a gentle invitation, I turned inside, stepping up the old staircase leading to a space of tranquility.
The slightly ajar door opens to another world – where the noise of the city seems to be blocked out at the very last step.
The slightly ajar door opens to another world – where the noise of the city seems to be blocked off at the very last step. Tea'space's Le Thanh Ton branch isn't overly large, but everything inside is carefully considered to create a warm, tranquil atmosphere. Soft golden light bathes the floor, low chairs are placed near the window, a few small ceramic vases hold dried leaves, and the gentle aroma of tea permeates the air, as if this place has never known haste.
A small table by the window, the perfect spot to watch the rain through the green canopy of the tamarind tree.
I chose a seat right by the window that opened onto the unexpected green expanse of old tamarind trees. Outside, the rain began to fall heavily, and gusts of wind made the tamarind leaves sway as if telling stories. In that space, the sound of water pouring from the teapot was like a tranquil, meditative sound. I ordered a pot of oolong tea – a tea the staff suggested was "perfect for drinking on these days when Saigon is changing."
The moment of pouring tea – the sound of tranquility.
The first cup of tea had a light aroma and a delicate taste. But it wasn't until the second and third cups that I truly felt the subtle nuances spreading with each sip of warm water. It was as if the flavor was gradually shedding layers of dust, stirring up a familiar yet distant memory: an afternoon long ago in my hometown, when my grandmother used to sit on the porch, pouring cups of tea while it rained softly in the fields.
Tea'space is more than just a tea shop. It's a place where people can find a moment of tranquility amidst the urban hustle and bustle, a sanctuary for the mind in the midst of a hectic life. The shop is filled with soothing classical music, creating a pleasantly quiet atmosphere. Occasionally, a few customers will sit opposite each other, not needing to say much, simply enjoying their tea in silence. Some work, some read, some write in their journals, and some just quietly watch the rain.
In a small cabinet in the middle of the room, a few types of tea and handcrafted ceramic teapots and cups are displayed.
In a small display cabinet in the middle of the room, a few types of tea and handcrafted ceramic teapots and cups are showcased. It feels as if each item here has its own story, from the selection of ingredients to the presentation. I asked a staff member and learned that the cafe occasionally organizes workshops on tea ceremony and tea meditation, where people not only learn how to brew tea but also how to slow down and purify their hearts, like filtering tea leaves from a cup.
From the balcony overlooking the street.
That afternoon, I lingered for a long time. The rain outside gradually subsided, but the lingering taste of afternoon tea remained within me. Tea is not just a beverage, but a journey of perception. And Tea'space, in the early summer rain on Le Thanh Ton Street, was the peaceful starting point for that journey.
