In love with lavender and other herbs
I love herbs. Herbs are like an ideal partner. Herbs are versatile- every time you think you know them, they surprise you with a new gift. They are great for a morning pick-me-up or for a relaxing evening drink. Herbs are loyal – as they age, they can be dried and their goodness preserved. They look unassuming and humble, yet everyone knows they are powerful. Herbs have healing properties, so you can rely on them when you are unwell.
My favourite herb is lavender. I associate lavender with authentic love - which is why you find several references to lavender in my novel about Katie and the love virus.
“Appearance, age, history,
nothing seems to matter,
it is only about
how well the other
stirs the shared soup
with love-won-der.”
In Andratalia, Katie learns that authentic love consists of some unique ingredients slowly stirred together by two partners. I don’t know whether that is a good metaphor, but I know that lavender is great for baking (lavender shortbread biscuits or lavender-infused honey are a delicious way to sweeten your tea). Lavender is an ingredient in cooking, sleep balms, moth-repellents. Lavender brings good luck, calmness and clarity to mind. There are just so many facets to lavender that you can’t get bored with it. Just like being in a happy marriage.
Herbs are precious and with a lot of natural habitat disappearing, herbs will be even more precious in the years to come. In my native Slovakia, herbs are valued much more than in other countries I have lived in. I am not sure why. It could be that in poor countries people need to be more resourceful and rely on food foraging (Slovaks are keen mushroom-pickers too). If you google ‘slovenske bylinky” (Slovak herbs) you will be taken to a range of loose teas, herbal cosmetics and herb-based cleaning products.
Connected to the love for herbal teas are the so-called Čajovňa (Slovak tea rooms). These are relaxed places where you get served teas. Teas only. I mean you might get a coffee or a glass of juice if you insist but generally, Čajovňas are for teas. Loose white, yellow, black and herbal teas. The idea is that you take the time to savour a cup of tea and have some “pohoda” (the Slovak word for the Norwegian or Danish “hygge”).
I haven’t seen (m)any tea rooms in Norway. One day, when I accomplish what I set out to do in childhood research, I will set up my own “Čajovňa” in Stavanger. It will be a meeting place to enjoy a nice cup of herbal tea. There will be an old piano in the corner and lots of soy candles. The place will be owned and run by volunteers, the menu will be multilingual and the snacks multicultural. We will host regular science talks and poetry readings. All proceeds will go to local charities. The interior will be based on typical Scandinavian interior design – minimalist, soft hues, blend of textures. There will be wild grasses in the table vases (no cut flowers and definitely no plastic flowers!) and there will be photos and artworks on the walls (like a mini-gallery for international artists). The tea will be served in porcelain cups with a thin rim (because who likes the thick-rim mugs?!). The whole place will smell of lavender and make you feel you sit in the middle of a summer wildflower meadow.
My Čajovňa won’t have a digital identity - no website, no Twitter feed. You will need to visit to build your expectations. You will find it, don’t worry. You will sit there for a while, touch the cups, savour the taste of the tea on your tongue, breathe in the scents, and for a moment, become one with the herbal togetherness.