Tea. Making it, brewing it, drinking it: I have always found these rituals to be deeply domestic. They promise a familiar conviviality that I have long considered impossible to recreate outside of the walls of a home. But my visit to Tchai-Ovna, a tea house nestled in Glasgow, Scotland, proved me wrong.
I was introduced to Tchai-Ovna during a 3-day stay in the city, visiting one of my dearest friends. The quirky tea house was founded by University of Glasgow students 23 years ago, in the heart of the city's West End, to create a space that didn’t propagate the pressure of alcohol culture. This thriving city, with a vibrant art scene, is renowned for a doomed reputation of excellence when it comes to alcohol consumption. This is often referred to as the “Glasgow Effect”, which entails alarming mortality rates that result from precarious lifestyles within the Scottish demographic. Instances of young deaths are 30% more likely in the city and, more worryingly, 60% of those were related to addictive substances as risk factors.
A temperance movement was born to counteract the city’s drinking culture. Nerys Tunnicliffe reflects on how Dry January became much more than just a doomed resolution, instead embodying a powerful desire for change. A campaign for a better future, where pledging to abstain meant living longer. The temperament movement worked because the Glasgow Abstainers' Union, founded in 1854, provided appealing alternatives to conventional health promotions, with over 40 societies scattered across the city.
"A sort of irresistible Eden of Otago lane"
Tchai-Ovna was born of such a movement. While I had never pictured tea as a shield for sobriety, there seemed to be a hushed gratitude in the air at the tea house. A sort of irresistible Eden of Otago lane, seducing customers with glossy plants, colourful Tibetan flags (Tibetan tradition being one of a handful of key influences to the teahouse), and over 80 varieties of ethically sourced speciality teas. In Tchai-Ovna, the acts of serving and receiving transcended into symbols of reciprocal care.
A space stripped of the demands of modernity, in the Glaswegian tea house, there’s no room for chaos. Guests are invited to tune in to harmony with themselves and others. With each sip, the tension of the outside world fades away, replaced by a deep, grounding sense of contentment. Low tables usher customers to lean forward towards each other, tea pots and platters demand sharing, while cushions and rugs add warmth: the place encourages conversation. Tibetan art ranges from colourful, chromatic prayer flags to representations of mythology. Interactive artefacts, such as prayer wheels, invite guests to spin them so that their wishes and prayers are sent into the universe. Embroidered tapestries adorn the walls with rich patterns. And small cups serve tea slowly, a few sips at a time, permeating the teahouse with a heady fragrance. It is a wonderful pilgrimage for the senses, a hub of togetherness.
"Low tables usher customers to lean forward towards each other, tea pots and platters demand sharing..."
Designed to function as a serendipitous melting pot, Tchai-Ovna has also been host to vibrant cultural festivals. Traditional dance shows and music performances displayed the level of commitment towards the unique rich cultural heritage that Tchai-Ovna (amongst other tea houses) was so committed to preserve.
This Glaswegian tea house was doomed to be a brief love-story. The moment I settled into the hushed space, I was made aware of it being up for sale. The 31st of July, the day the tea house bid Glasgow farewell, must have been a sad one for the West End regulars, who had been robbed of a beloved and eclectic way of life.
The reasons behind the closure remain unclear, spanning from the owner’s claims (Martin Fell) of no longer having the energy to run the place to the cost of living crisis. Quite frankly, I can’t help feeling heartsick: it saddens me not to no longer be able to visit. However, my finite acquaintance with Tchai-Ovna led me to the most rewarding of rabbit holes, educating me (and you, lucky readers!) about the realms of the tea sipper elite. While it's now a nomadic teahouse, a privilege of festivals until further notice, Tchai-Ovna continues to live on digitally, through a beautifully curated website that invites us on a "voyage of tea exploration", allowing us to appreciate its rich culture no matter where we are.