These leaves are guided into a pot, warm water is poured onto these leaves, pause.
The liquid that streams out into the serving pot is not the healthy brownish delight that one would expect from Darjeeling nor is it a vibrant green as the name suggests. It is what it is. It is a cloudy yellow.
It streams from pot, to cup, to mouth. From it comes juicy light pear with sneaky caramel undertones that finish into a pondy-vegital faint raisin spice that drys the tongue and lingers on the breath.
Another infusion invites a dryness into these pondy-vegital depths. The juicy pear is still there as is the semblances of earthy raisin.
When more and more water is passed through these leaves, the mouthfeel rounds out and feels complete and full. The pear tones become more bland and less juicy becoming more enmeshed with dryness and subtle muscatel.
In the end the pear flavour thins into vegital sweetness under a blanket of consummate dryness.
The qi that is left behind is the kicky, darting hong cha variety, perhaps only a touch lighter than that of a black tea.
This tea's torn leaves, yellowish colour, and light kicking/darting chaqi suggest that this tea underwent more oxidization than most green tea during production. This is more of a 'black' green tea, similar to some other Southeastern Asian green teas.
It is enjoyable enough, interesting enough, Makaibari enough.
It is what it is.