19 March 2025 – 12 June 2025
Instagram: @george.culpepper
Bonjour! Are you hew man?!
I am not so sure myself but I am slightly more sure that I’m George (from Tennessee! You know Jack Daniel?).
BEFORE OBUBU did I even exist? Many here have wondered this. Just like the true origin story of genmaicha, there are different rumours. Maybe I spawned in, plopped (even!) down from above, or I’m secretly Gustavo (our friendly neighbourhood raccoon) in human form. I did live in His room for a time, after all.
This is mainly because I was almost non-verbal during my first week or two. And what can I say? Obubu is chock-full of shenanigans. Surprises lie around every corner. So much happens every day, it can be a little overwhelming at first–but that’s what makes it fun (right, guys?). It didn’t help that my journey to Obubu was not the smoothest. But I will get into that later.
My only experience in farm work was a brief stint WWOOFing (World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms) in Italy. I studied in Prague for a bit, and for our spring break I found an olive farm (so-called) run (not really) by a man named Francesco in Rieti, close to Rome. Sure, I pruned some branches and fed a strange medley of animals–one horse, two goats, three donkeys, a dog, several cats–but besides that, not much. And I met:
- Adriano, slightly disappointed friend of Francesco and a former politician in Rome;
- Ismail, an Afghani refugee, who shared his small portion of food with me even in the midst of Ramadan;
- Donatella, a school teacher and master chef;
- Maximilliano, Francesco’s drunk friend–he played the drums for us one evening.
One time the donkeys all escaped their poorly constructed enclosure (good on ‘em), Francesco and I chased after them, he corralled them back in only for them to make a second great escape. On a small knoll, cast in dusk’s soft purple hues, Francesco let out the loudest, most guttural F*$k! I heard in my life. Che palle! Francesco’s not-farm had Obubu’s chaos but lacked Hiro-san’s (“you are sooo handsome!”) good organisation. I left hungry for more (and actually hungry, I survived off Francesco’s loose crackers I found in nooks and crannies and cupboards, some slices of Donatella’s galette and gobs of her pasta).
So, I graduated from university in May last year and had no clue what to do with my Self. In the summer, my family and I briefly stopped in Japan on the way to visit our relatives in the Philippines. Audrey, my sister and the true tea enjoyer in my family, found Obubu. Of course, we joined a tea tour. To be frank, I was a little perplexed and confused–concerned, even!
Tea? なにこれ?
During the presentation, all the facts and tidbits whooshed over my head (thank güdness KD wasn’t here to make us chant, that would’ve sent me over the edge–pasensya na po). Awash with information, all I could do was focus on what was in front of me–tea! I guess you could say that my journey started with a single cup, just like our president Akky-san (the crazy guy on the left). I also met former assistant managers Mac and Alix in the tea room, and staff member Pau up on Monzen! They don’t remember ever seeing me (maybe I really did not exist), but that’s okay!
Obubu was my first real confrontation with loose leaf tea. In my previous non-life, I only dabbled with tea in its caged, bagged form (vile, eevuhl to the core). How could people do that to our Leaf? Even though my sister was a big fan of loose leaves, I never partook in her mystic rituals. Instead, I stuck to coffee.. pour-over style (Hario v60, sometimes Chemex.. come on noowww). Not for the caffeine (though we all know and love it), but the taste. You can’t forget its form, either: thick, black and shiny.. and the way steam dances on its placid surface–incense rising to the heavens (my nose), a sweet offering. So, can you blame me? You really can’t shake a stick at a good cuppa joe.
However, it seems that coffee is not freedom, unlike tea. Ratios and brewing times are much stricter to achieve a good cup. While the pouring process is meditative, it can be a hassle to take out the scale, grind the beans, and precisely time the brew. Now, I really enjoy the care-free, joy-full process of brewing loose leaf tea (for myself of course.. tea tour? Never!). Acquire the Leaf, pour that thang into a kyusu and go! You can even check the liquor’s color to know if the brew is finished to your liking–there are no temporal restrictions. Can’t count? No problem! For cold brews especially, you can even leave the leaves in there for a pretty long time–I think my record was 7 days (barely drinkable). As someone who knew nothing about tea (and still really doesn’t), its free-spirited nature was a huge selling point. After the tour, I bought three tea bags that would change my life forever: Pine-needle Wakoucha, Genmaicha, and Sencha du soleil de printemps.
Within the next month, I finished the wakoucha lickety-split. It was my favorite, after all, and I shared the bag with Audrey. Alas, genmaicha was the next to fall. Now, only the sencha remained, and while it wasn’t my favorite (umami doesn’t really do it for me), I was growing desperate–I needed a re-up, fast! I resolved to enjoy the last free leaves no matter what. Kyusu-less, I brewed the leaves in a glass beaker from my grandparents and enjoyed each cup on my living room floor with crossed legs and shuttered eyes, sencha coursing through my veins. The more I drank, the more it spread throughout my entire being, penetrating my soul. Even before my arrival, I was already becoming an extension of Obubu itself–an arm, a leg.. a member.. ! This is the power of Akky-san, a bona fide tea fairy. He beckoned me through the leaves, summoning me all the way from his lair in Wazuka. I could not resist his call. Now this is getting a little much–I don’t think I ever finished the sencha or even genmaicha before coming to Obubu (I saved some for my mom). But I was left high and dry for the leaves I liked. I wanted more, so I had to go. Obubu seemed like a holy land, the source of sacred tea. I applied in September, accepted in November. My original start date was January 28, but so many things happen (©) so I ended up starting on March 18. I think this was Fate’s doing, I couldn’t imagine a better outcome.
But the following months were a bit tough. I lived at home with my parents and helped them with an assortment of odd jobs–sort of like Obubu except much more mundane and slow-paced, no tea, no harvesting, no budding friendships or dancing in the factory or frat-esque birthday parties or karaoke or hamazushi or nakatsuji. Boh! Che palle! So not like Obubu at all–but that’s okay. I volunteered for one day on a (very) small farm in the next town over, started by two of Audrey’s high school classmates the same year. It was fun–I was their first volunteer (like Elise from Hawaii). I thought more of this, please! But that was it–no more farming. My fields lay fallow. Before leaving for tea-topia, Audrey imparted some of that older sister wisdom: fallow periods are necessary in farming and life (perhaps farming is life and life is farming). So far it seems this is true! By the time March rolled around, I knew it was time to move on with my life–it was becoming a little too fallow (preveč). I packed my bags (two of ‘em) slapdash and slipshod the night before my flight–a couple pants, a few shirts–then got outta dodge before dawn.
I landed in Osaka dazed and confused, wearing my uncle Andrew’s worn down (but beautifully aged and storied) Carhartt work jacket, feeling just as tired but looking rea-uhl American. After a cute breakfast buffet the next morning, I began the last and most treacherous leg of my pilgrimage–giddy up, yeehaw (no one says this in Tennessee).
Unfortunately, I didn’t do my homework on the logistics of living in Japan before touchdown.
IC card.. what is this?
Cash.. do I really need it, though?
(and with the help of all my foster moms, I never did! več glav, več ve)
And why is it so cold?
(I thought my uncle’s jacket would be enough, it was not)
So for the next hour or so, I did my best to answer these questions. My best could have been much better, so I ended up leaving much later than I planned. This was not good at all–I was already coming to Obubu one day after the program’s official start. I missed the welcome party (what a shame!) and now I would miss the inaugural tea tour. Even after downloading an IC card on my phone and hobbling through the turnstiles, I missed so many trains–almost all of them, it seemed. I sat shivering on a bench, feverishly checking train schedules and panicking so much I worked up a cold sweat. As each train passed, more trickled down my spine. I had no clue which one was the right one (I’m an American!). After every failed boarding attempt, I walked in shame to the heated bathroom upstairs for a short respite. Even so, the cold began to seep deep into my bones–I had enough! A train came. My heart thumped.
Err.. umm.. uhh.. is this the right one? My brain thunked.
Uffa! I’ll take it. And hvala bogu (thank god), it was right enough!
I finally arrived at Kamo station, but an hour early for the bus to Wazuka. Even worse, I was stuck with my old friend, the cold! This time, it followed me everywhere–no heated bathroom to save me now. I was growing desperate (again) and downloaded a taxi app. No cars in the area. Another app. No dice. I made the daring decision to dual wield, searching for taxis on both at the same time. This risky play drained my phone’s battery like nobody’s business. Time was ticking, I was freezing. While waiting, I downloaded Messenger and joined the intern group chat (Why didn’t I before? Who knows) and told everyone that I would be even later! And if things got really hairy, I could cry for help (as I did many times from Kamo the next few months).
12:41 Me: Hi all, sorry I’m a bit late! Got a little lost, should be there around 1
13:00 Nicole: see you soon! stay warm!
I did not stay warm. I was transforming into a slender, two meter tall block of ice (Josh would have loved this). Almost an hour passed.. but alas! Just as all hope seemed lost, the only taxi driver in a 10 kilometer radius finally decided to ferry me. Maybe he was on lunch break?
13:31 Me: Just got a taxi, now should be there before 2 (praying hands emoji)
But this was nine minutes before the scheduled bus at 13:40.. Was it worth 2,000 yen? Maybe! It could have been nine minutes too late before DOOOMMM.
13:45 Me: Just got here, should I enter front?
And so my time at Obubu began!
DURING OBUBU the fallow season finally ended.. with a bang! Not really. More of a slow thaw, or bloom (even).
Shortly after I sent that message, Mia, another wonderful assistant manager, rushed to greet me. She showed me to my infamous room, named after Gustavo (the raccoon!) since he broke in and entered there. I respect his hustle, but living in an old crime scene was not the best. It was a little small, a bit dank, damp dusty musty (crusty? sure). But after all is said and done, it wasn’t so bad and I did enjoy my time there (as much as I could).
Afterwards, I wasn’t really sure what to do with myself so I crept back to our main tea room. Last year during my tea tour, I glimpsed a little behind the sliding paper doors–lights, action (no camera), some skit-skattering and scurrying. Now, when I walked through the back door to our office kitchen.. Presenečenje! Surprise! A great revelation–a whole new world opened to me. One filled with tea brewing, tea drinking, dish washing (a lot of dish washing), late night chats, heinous acts of mixing various substances (relaaxx–biru and ice cream!.. and more), scheming, plotting and plopping. But all those wonderful things would slowly (then suddenly) unfold over the next few months. At that moment, the kitchen was a maelstrom of activity and I was in its eye. Clearly not supposed to be there, I rushed past many unknown forms, escaping through the shop door. I briefly met a couple eyes and saw fate in each one.
Overwhelmed, I swiftly retreated back to Gustavo and collapsed on my futon and three quarters, fully clothed under the covers. I deep-thawed for the next few hours, heat set to at least 30 degrees celsius (I am sorry for the electric bill from this month). The warmth that forsook my bones for so long now softly, sweetly enveloped me. It was so nice, I got a little too comfortable.
16:32 Nicole: @George Culpepper pls come to orientation!
16:33 Me: Just woke up from nap, on my way!
Whoops! This was not the only time I was late to (or completely missed) a happening at Obubu. Speaking of late, this page is late! And everything else due for ambassador graduation work. That’s okay. This week, my co-interns and I are making wakoucha harvested from Miwako-san’s tea field, Aoimori (named by previous intern Josh, moj mož). I also have to finish making a small magazine for my intern project. It seems like our last week is the busiest, and I want to enjoy the last couple days so I really have to lock in and get this over with finish this. I’ve already told you so much, what more do you want from me? I’m getting tired and you’re probably getting bored. I’m also getting a little distracted watching Nicole, KD, Garance, Jackie, and Cara (how did she get there) preparing to wave off tea tour guests leaving in our Obubu bus (Obubus?).. Now they’re taking a picture with them.. Should I run to join them?.. Mon dieu, boudu! That’s enough.
Like Marilena says, it’s time to cut the bool-sheet. But there are a few more things I would like to say. Do you have a moment to hear about my lord and saviour, Nakatsuji?
16:44 Marilena: hey cutieees! let’s do plant (grocery shopping) run around 6.15/6.30?
Also AMs who’s in? bc we will need two cars!
This would be the first of very few times I ever set foot in Plant: that accursed, blighted, blindingly fluorescent hellscape of late(final)-stage capitalism (kidding! that’s our entire world :((
Thankfully, Marcello (one of our previous seasoned assistant managers), agreed to show me around. In the end, he gave me a full, in-depth tour, almost like we do for guests in our sencha factory. At the time, I was surprised, dumbfounded (even) that Marcello agreed to do this–why me? Why now? Well, partly because that’s just Marcello–but this overwhelming generosity, kindness, caring(ness), self-sacrifice(? sure!) is the Spirit of Obubu. It worked through him, and now it has worked through me (it’s actually not me writing this).
Ma! Thanks to Marcello’s tour, I saw how horrendous Plant was. I believe it was Nicole who first directed me towards Nakatsuji, a local grocery store run by one stalwart, noble man and potentially his son. After one konbanwa! then a garbled eughh–arigatou gozaimasu! I was hooked. It became my lifeline for essentials: biru, natto, more biru (I am not an alcoholic), ramen, bread, even more biru (I can stop if I really wanted to, sure), eggs, bread, croquettes, and (sometimes) fresh vegetables. I never ventured beyond a simple greeting and thanking when I saw Nakatsuji man and his not-son (almost every day during my prime), but I’d like to think our bond runs deeper than loosely strung syllables. As a loyal acolyte, I proselytized for Nakatsuji. A few visited occasionally, some frequented, but none pilgrimage-d daily like me.
It’s now the next day and I’m looking to finish this real fast. I slipped away to Yakiniku for an extended family dinner then celebrated Katrina’s birthday with karaoke and dancing in the factory (of course). I also looked at Josh’s page (again, moj mož) and took inspiration from his concise summary of his time here–Singaporean efficiency! None of this long, dramatic, drawn out narration with so many detours and –oh uh, here’s Tran (I’m in the office, again!), time to select free tea (5,000 yen worth), the spoils of hard work for the Ambassador program (I chose Pine-Needle Wakoucha, Natural Black Gyokuro, Genmaicha, Sencha of the Earth, and Kyobancha).
Back to business. After my first day, I was in so much shock and awe that I was almost nonverbal for a week or so, starting the rumors of my non-existence before Obubu. I still had some thawing and blooming to do–maybe hot water had just been poured in my kyusu, and the leaves were waking up.
At the end of March, I helped Akky-san harvest bancha with Mia at Eriyoshi. When I first laid eyes on Akky-san, I knew he was the One who summoned me. The originator, the Creator, transformer..? Shaper!.. The Source of leaves I came to love. Who knows how much tea has passed through his hands, how much joy and happiness he has poured in our cups, hearts, minds and souls all across this earth. To be honest, I was overwhelmed–star-struck, even! A little preveč (too much). Slack-jawed, I tried (so hard! but in vain) to understand his infamous hand signals. We both looked at each other, dumbfounded. So Mia harvested for most of the day (at least I ferried the tea bags, okay?!). Since then, I would like to think I have improved (a little).
Okay but yes, the harvest was bountiful
He brought his kids (future tea farmers)
And I started taking photos for the first time with my uncle’s tiny but mighty Canon s95
I thawed even more the following month of April. As the land eased into Spring, the weather slowly (slowly) grew warmer, as did our hearts. Together with my co-interns, we pounded mochi, shaped wagashi, made pottery (a weird cup/bowl crossover), barbecued at night with Toshi-san and met Hamazushi (another love). I strengthened ties with Nakatsuji man, robotically read the script for my first tea tour in front of Marilena and Eva (a dangerous duo) became a human rope to secure bags and bags and more bags of kukicha, started (shoddy? sturdy!) construction on Kyobancha house with Hiro-san and Miwako-san, shaded at Aoimori and started to shade at Somada (Josh made it an open-air opera), and saw and felt and heard much more, if you can believe it! We also left the commune–er, um–the premises for some shenanigans in Osaka and Kobe. Club Obubu, one of our strongest and most beloved traditions, also started and really picked up steam mid-April (mainly because of Eva but trust me, we all did some capital D, bolded italicized underscored Dancing). Alas, good things come to an end (sometimes, and only for a short time). After one last “hike” (25 kilometers, mostly on an actual highway.. Thanks Josh) to three different tea fields and a couple parties and shindigs, we bid Josh and Eva goodbye. I followed them as far as I could when they both left, hugging [should’ve been kissing] Josh in Kamo and farewell-ing Eva at the airport.
Thankfully, the new interns turned up right before Josh and Eva’s departure and they turned out to be a good bunch. Still, the next week or two was tough without the strong, loving, guiding hands of my senpais. We made do and danced (just italicized this time) all the same, nevertheless.
May was Busy. Spring sencha harvest started on May 1st, which is Hachija-Hachiyu, the 88th day after Risshun, the beginning of Spring in the traditional Japanese calendar. To celebrate, we partied and processed the leaves with Akky-san in our factory. What a blast (a roll? A twist, a curl?) that was. It really was ful kul seeing Akky-san in motion, flowing with the leaves, greeting each one, guiding, honing their needle form. Fare well! Off to the void. Akky-san does not see our sipping faces, our sparkling eyes, our overflowing joy as we drink his love, labor, and reverence for the Leaf. My uncle, cousin and her family also visited, breaking the fourth wall. It was fun showing them around and introducing them to as many acolytes of our beautiful people as possible.
So we continued to help Akky-san harvest
All the processing nights were fun (very)
A faithful few (Katrina) stayed with him into faint hours of early morning
Then more Nakatsuji, more Hamazushi, more shindigs and parties
More dancing turning into Dancing
Sake tasting with Pau
More infomercial-esque tea tour presentations (per Izzy and I agree)
Factory cleaning, tea tasting, burger eating, faces beaming
Finally flowing with Akky-san in harvesting (Adjust! Adjust! Go go go!)
Tonkatsu in Kyoto, sleeping fetal futilely in Jackie’s internet cafe, six thirty train then tea
tour in morning, eyes awake (enough) but inside I’m snoring
Chakabuki competition, 1 point of 25, last place so do I win something?
Nothing
AFTER OBUBU
what am I really doing next? My original plan was to return home to Tennessee (rocky top, you’ll always be..), but many things happen (©) and I’m actually going to Slovenia–presenečenje! And after Obubu, can I really return to the site of so much fallowness? I don’t think so. My flight leaves this Saturday, June 14. In Europe, I hope to at least make friends, maybe find work for the next couple months. After, who knows? I admit, I am keeping some schemes under wraps. I would like to work on different farms, maybe even coming back to Japan (Obubu round 2?). We shall see.
Besides Akky-san (of course), everyone here leads an inspiring life filled with purpose through contribution. If they can find fulfillment (and work!) through service to others, why can’t I? So I’d like to join their ranks in whatever way possible.
And now, I must finish processing my black tea. Half is fermented (poorly), half is oxidized using ancient shelves. I wanted the leaves to soak up different energies so I withered them in different places: outside in light rain, down our factory stairs, up our factory stairs in our fabled dance hall. As they withered, I–we Danced
–a lady just walked in our shop and asked to buy a postcard. Other George (The George, Wholesale George) said it’s on the house! Mashallah. I informed her and bid her adieu, or a žiu, if you will. Bless George. Bless her. Bless you! And you! And you!
But as they withered– ah, merde!
–Katrina abducted me for lunch at a small joint on the way to Tenku, near Wazuka-cha. She ordered the set meal of the day for both of us (like last time) and set out to treat me but Ah! Nani? Yabai! Akky-san appeared out of nowhere (again like last time) and treated both of us. And what a nice setting for a meal it was, yes it was. It’s a little bigger than Gustavo’s room, but half is the kitchen. I listened to the kitchen clattering, fan whirring, faint voices from the tv, Akky-san and two others at our table speaking with Katrina. Itadakimasu! With my face shoved in fried chicken curry and various side dishes, I felt so cozy and complete. When we got back, I had to tend to my leaves. See? Proof that so many things happen (©) here.
But ahem–as my leaves withered, we Danced et Sang during Katrina’s celebration. Akky-san and Chihiro even had a couple duets. I’d like to believe the leaves absorbed the energy from our frenzy.
Unfortunately, I had a long night ahead of me because I didn’t roll them during the day (my leaves did not really wither and didn’t lose much moisture weight–shoulda added some tea-zempic). I tried to sleep (in my favorite secret spot), I did! But I couldn’t–too much anxious, boyish (je suis une bête, je sais) energy. I started rolling my leaves at three in the morning while blasting music, mixing (what?) and dancing the night away. The leaves absorbed even more frantic, frenetic energy. Then I got a little crazy (noro delo) and decided to roleplay as Akky-san and sleep on the factory floor. You think I’m being dramatic about his dedication to tea? Try to walk a mile in his shoes, why don’t-chya! But I’m not as hardcore as Akky-san, so I spread a tarp and plopped a pillow.
Now, I will finally dry my oxidized leaves in our oven. My soaking wet “fermented” leaves are still drying.
I came back, more than an hour later, and still have not dried. That’s okay! I am the last drier. I have some doubters, haters (even? No, I don’t think so), but I honestly think my tea will turn out okay. Now I’m planning to make six different types: plain, roasted, and fired versions of both fermented oxidized variations.
I am now writing in our factory, smack dab in front of the oven. This is the final resting place of all these silly syllables. Now comes action!
My leaves are finally drying.
Miwako-san miraculously appeared right when I needed her.
Hvala bogu.
I showed her my leaves.
Are they dry?
No.
They need a second go around.
Thank you, Miwako-san.
All is well.
It seems my fields will not lie fallow for a while.
PS (whoops!): I finally finished the oxidized batch of black tea, now the fermented (flooded, water-logged) is drying in the oven. What a joy to see the fruits of labor!
PM (post-mortem): Those words are dead but here are some fresh ones. It’s Thursday, my last day at Obubu as an intern. I’m sitting on the office couch (my secret spot–surprise!) and I just heard Akky-san walk in our adjacent office room.
All the days blur and blend together but stay inside us all the same. Today, I joined Pau et Alex light-trimming at Aoimoria. The weather was gloomy until the sun finally greeted us late after noon. On our way back, Alex and I sat in the keitora truck bed. Light dripped through the canopy on plants and rocks and things. The road melted and streamed beneath us. We watched the land and trees rising and falling, water rushing, wind gushing, time whooshing, wishing, slipping through our hair and hands and fingers into– into.. into what? Whatever it is, let’s make it Good.
I finally finished my black tea. I’m still trying to figure out the names for most of them, but the plain oxidized is Jojikoucha (george red tea) and the plain “fermented” is Ziucha. In Japanese, cha means tea (of course), and ziu can be translated to mean “blessed rain” after a drought. In Slovenian, žiu is slang for “goodbye” (and ziu can mean wow. Wow, tea!). So, goodbye.
PC (post-celebration): On Thursday evening, we celebrated the past three months. Our cool kouhais, Izzy, Zehra, KD and Garance (and my co-intern Chihiro) all chef’d up a delicious feast. Akky-san delivered a speech or two and chased us around the long table with Katrina as blessed us with our intern and ambassador certificates. Then we Danced, sang, ping-ponged with miscellaneous objects, even some good ol’ bar fights! All while Chihiro played the most beautiful songs with her flute, Toshi-san watched in slight confusion but utmost amusement, and Akky-san drifted off to sweet sleep (with pride? Joy!). After, Sky took us to a secret spot (one of many) along the river to see fireflies. It was good.
PF (post-flight): I almost missed my flight from Brussels to Ljubljana and died of dehydration (and couldn’t find Garance’s dad).
PO (post-Obubu): I am writing this at Tabor, the bar Eva (intern #187) works at, sipping on a cappuccino and a little biru. I should be starting a gardening gig for the same bar tomorrow. This is the final resting place of these words. Funny how fate works! Life is un peu bizarre–try to greet its flow and roll and roll. Bless you! And you, and you!
All we have is now!
Thank you for everything–
Otsukaresama desu!
Onward!
And finally, here’s some music I listened to while making black tea, plus some additions by other Obubites:
Français 
English (UK)