A while back, a close friend of mine from China decided to visit my home town all the way from Chongqing - a Chinese city known for its rivers and vast shopping centers. Knowing that I'd be home for the weekend, she knocks on my door - face smiling with excitement.

"I brought food!" She screams, happy to pile packages of her native noodles and tea on my dining room table.

Both of us look at each other, knowing what comes next. With both of us giggling, we head to my kitchen - food spilling over our shoulders.

"This one's from like, uh," she scrambles for the right word. "Mall! Yeah, you know, like, the places you shop at? Chongqing has a lot of them!" Her glasses rise as she smiles at me. I nod my head with excitement as I turn on the stove.

In the meantime, she busies herself with my tea kettle. After knowing her for a while, I knew right away that her favorite Chinese staple was hot tea. This time, I watched the master at work. She never once explained the mysterious process of creating her famous delicious tea, so this time I watched while putting vegetables in a saute pan.

She readied two of my small mugs from the cabinet - paying close attention to how the tea was assembled. When the kettle whistled, she poured steaming hot water into each cup about halfway full. Breathing carefully, she added two tablespoons of sugar, then added the rest of the water.

"Do you take out the tea bags after they steep?" I asked, startling her. After she jumped a little, she began to laugh.

"You mean...when it's ready?" Her face was perplexed at my question.

"Yeah, like... you know, when the water turns brown. Do you ever take out the bags?" Her face shriveled up.
"No! Never... more flavor with the bags." That's all that was said. The secret was finally revealed to me - without a single word exchanged. Feeling as if I had the key to life, I drank the entire cup in one sitting while stirring the food. Over the course of her at my house, I learned even more about her culture.

"How do you say 'How are you?' in Chinese?" Being the language enthusiast that I was, I was curious.
After a few short breaths to prepare herself, she turned to me, slowly repeating my request. "Neeee-how-mah," she said while emphasizing on the syllables. I giggled at her approach to teaching me, and even asked for more words to memorize. By the end of the night, she was taping me with her iPhone to send to her Chinese friends oversees.

"I am very impressed," she exclaimed. "You are really good, actually. You should learn Chinese all the time!" I snorted at her enthusiasm.

"Maybe I will." The whole night, I had a sense of confidence. It could have been my progress in Chinese, or perhaps it was something different...

The tea.

I had realized that since I had drank the tea, I had an overwhelming urge to learn more and more about culture. About languages. About life.

Since then, my curiosity had peaked in learning about other languages - and now, I've even made attempts at learning Russian along with German. Through this, I was able to connect with people all over the world - and now as I walk into my favorite Spanish restaurant, I can speak with ease and confidence. As I converse with my Russian friends, I don't have to be afraid. No longer am I scared to speak up and ask about a word or a phrase - my longing for languages will continue on for ages, and the connections and love it brings renders me speechless.

And it all started with a roaring-hot pot of fresh tea, and amazing company.