It was a -12°C day in Helsinki—that specific kind of "cold blue" winter where the air feels sharp and the sky turns a crystalline indigo. Outside, the wind rattled a set of chimes on Annankatu, sounding like gentle snowflakes hitting glass. But stepping through the door of MUYŌ Tea House, the frost immediately melted.
For months, the soft glow of the TEX-lamps by Studio D-ja has radiated from MUYŌ’s windows, offering a warm haven for those seeking a quiet encounter with Eastern culture. Inside, we sat with tea specialist Peng Luo and Kintsugi practitioner Li Li to talk about tea, craft, and the slow process of building a life far from where one began.
A Cup That Explains Simplicity
Peng greeted us with a steaming cup of Matcha Iri Karigane. "簡約，而不簡單," she said with a smile —simple, but not easy. The phrase lingered in the room, much like the warm light of the TEX-lamps on the wall. Both the tea and the light carry a refreshing simplicity that belies a complex, disciplined journey to achieve.
From the windowsill, Peng lifted a small, vibrant green plant—a Camellia Japonica. It is a tea relative she rescued from a flower shop three years ago. In Finland’s long winter, such plants rarely survive indoors, yet hers thrives. She even waters it with leftover green tea. “Everything needs a little shared energy,” she laughed.
"This plant is my story as a foreigner in Finland," she says. "The climate and culture are vastly different. But slowly you learn how to adapt, and find your own path to bloom."
Like the rhythm of tea plants — where buds take more than a year to mature — Peng’s life in Finland unfolded slowly over 17 years.
Urushi: The Liquid Soul of Wood
While Peng tended the leaves, Li Li brought out a set of tools used to harvest Urushi — the sap of the lacquer tree that forms the foundation of traditional lacquerware and the art of Kintsugi.
"In Chinese, we say 漆黑 (qīhēi) to describe total darkness, which means as black as lacquer." Li Li explains. "The lacquer comes out of the tree milky white, but after solidification, it turns a deep, profound black."
Urushi has been used in East Asia for thousands of years — protecting wood, sealing vessels, and preserving objects across generations. In the tea house, the natural connection is everywhere.
"Tea is a plant. Urushi is a plant," Li Li reflects. “And our space is filled with wood — a humble material that carries its own history and keeps going.”
A Space for Tea in Finland
The Chinese character for tea — 茶 — contains a quiet image: a human (人) standing between grass (草) and wood (木).
A human among the plants. 人在草木間
This simple composition is the soul of MUYŌ. Rather than prescribing a rigid ritual, the space invites visitors to slow down and discover their own rhythm.
The interior reflects this idea. Instead of the heavy, dark woods of traditional Eastern tea houses, MUYŌ embraces a lighter, Finnish-influenced aesthetic: open space, modern arrangement and gentle paper light warming the room.
One might think the coffee-loving Finns would be a tough audience for a nuanced tea culture. However, Peng and Li Li have found the opposite.
“Finnish people are careful learners,” she said. “They observe first. But once they become curious, they study deeply.”
This thirst for knowledge has transformed MUYŌ from a shop into a cultural hub. Through tea tastings, Kintsugi workshops and East Asian cultural events, tea becomes a medium for something deeper: a ritual of being in the moment and engaged in learning.
Zuiko performing Shyamisen in MUYŌ during East Asian and Finnish Cultural Week 2026
A Bowl of Memories
As we finished our tea, Peng recalled a photograph from her hometown in Hunan. In it, a group of elderly women, laughing over bowls of tea.
"Nowadays people are so busy," Peng said softly. "Tea reminds us to return to the moment, to slow down time for ourselves, and for the people around us."
Locals in Hunan sharing tea (photo by Peng Luo)
“In my village you never ask if someone wants tea,” she said. “You simply serve it.” Guests often eat the softened tea leaves at the end of the bowl. It is a gesture of gratitude for the harvest.
As we left MUYŌ and stepped back into the -12°C Helsinki wind, the glow of the TEX-lamps stayed with us. In a world that demands we move faster, Peng and Li Li have built a sanctuary that asks only that we sit, stay a while, and appreciate the human among the plants.
Tea Pairings from MUYŌ
Three types of tea recommendations that reflect the spirit of MUYŌ, the lights, and the Finnish winter.
Teas from left to right: Matcha Iri Karigane, Phoenix Dancong Oolong, Ripe Pu’er
Matcha Iri Karigane A companion to light
Fresh and balanced, this tea carries a quiet depth. Its clarity mirrors the philosophy behind TEX-lamps — simplicity that feels effortless, yet reveals careful discipline beneath the surface.
Phoenix Dancong Oolong The beginning of discovery
Peng’s personal favorite. Floral, aromatic, and lively — a tea that captures the excitement of discovering tea culture for the first time.
Ripe Pu’er The winter companion
For the long Finnish winter, they recommend ripe Pu’er. Slowly fermented and matured over time, it develops a deep, grounding warmth. Like winter itself, it reminds us that richness often arrives slowly.
