The price of a cup of tea.

Somewhere, quite some time ago, I remember overhearing somebody talking about this Buddhist saying about drinking tea. It was something about how to enjoy -- truly enjoy -- a cup of the stuff. To enjoy and get the full benefit of that tea, you must be in the moment, as in present for that moment, for that particular cup of tea. Then I guess you are truly Zen. That tea will be able to grant you as much happiness as a cup of tea is able.

Right now, I'm in the National Gallery Cafe, drinking a cup of tea out of a white paper cup. There's a drop of tea that has stained the side of the cup, and it all looks very painterly in the gray light coming in through the windows. There are other tourists in the cafe and a native or two taking a tea break. The cup of tea is okay, to be honest. It's not the best ever, but the scone I'm eating alongside of it is truly exemplary. A pretty little biscuit of a thing, studded with currants and with the heft of a ripe and juicy lemon. The important point, though, was the jam and the clotted cream. (So Britishy.) Pure and unadulterated bliss. Check out the Zen factor.

I love when this happens. It happens at home, too, but there's something about stumbling onto food you won't get anywhere at home that makes it sort of special. I didn't really used to like tea very much (and I still take coffee first!), but this cup of tea in this oh-so-English setting made me remember when my Mom and I traveled to England. It was my first time here, and we were two seconds away from collapsing with jet lag and travel exhaustion when we stumbled onto this little place called The Green Cafe. We went in and ordered a very bizarre meal, but first asked for tea with milk and a lump of sugar. It was a revelation. I'd never had tea that good. And I remember waking up the next morning in our B&B room (as it happened, just down the block from The Green Cafe) and having a cup of Pickwick tea, made with the electric kettle and a little container of milk they'd left for us. I sat in bed and snuggled in under the covers and drank the tea, and it was also remarkable. I've found Pickwick tea at home, but it doesn't taste the same as that cup. I guess you need the travel magic.

Today, I sort of just had a bit of a wander and we're going to head out for Indian food, about which I could not be more excited. I know tonight I'm going to crash like a rock, and in the morning my visit here will begin in earnest. But I want to see what other weird Zen moments are going to present themselves.

Postscript:

There were practical hiccups as well. Life can't just be Zen scones, of course. I also got lost in Heathrow (why is it so sprawling!?!) and surprised a pigeon who had gotten into our train car on the aboveground line back to Chris and Annie's. This pigeon let me know how he felt by pooping on my suitcase. I choose to take this as a sign of good luck.