I’m a tea drinker too. I drink a lot of it, particularly when I’m writing. Sometimes also when I’m painting or illustrating. Sometimes when I’m working in plein air, people offer me tea. Sometimes people are really sweet.
Here’s a conversation I remember from McCleodganj:
Tibetan lady (sitting down on the curb beside me): An artist, hey? There was an English artist here last week. Kept drawing everything in sight. Just like you.
Restaurant-owner from across the street (joining us on the curb): An artist, huh? What are you painting? Oh, that scene there. There was an artist from England...
Tibetan lady: Yes, I already told her. He drank a lot.
Restaurant-owner (to me): You want tea? I’ll get you tea. Hey, boy! One tea here! Here, you are! No, no, you don’t have to pay. I won’t hear of it! Drink, drink! We have more tea if you want!
Me: Really? Thank you!
Tibetan lady (to me): As I was saying, the Englishman drank a lot too. You artists can’t get anything done without drinking a lot, can you?
Sometimes people are really insulting.