The Villages of Nannuo Mountain — Where Ancient Trees Still Breathe
High in the misty hills of Xishuangbanna lies Nannuo Mountain (南糯山) — a place where tea trees are not merely plants, but elders of the earth. For centuries, the Aini and Hani people have lived among these forests, nurturing the ancient trees whose roots drink from cloud-fed soil. Here, Pu’er tea is not a product of cultivation alone; it is a dialogue between humans and nature, shaped by altitude, rainfall, and reverence.
Each village on Nannuo Mountain has its own heartbeat. Bama, proud and bold, is known as the “King of Pu’er.” Banpo whispers through its ancient forests. Zhulin tests the tongue with its fierce bitterness, while Duoyi, shrouded in mist, offers teas of gentle sweetness and quiet strength.
To taste Nannuo tea is to taste geography, culture, and time itself — to follow the veins of the mountain through the liquor’s golden light. Nannuo Mountain in Xishuangbanna is a name spoken with reverence among Pu’er tea lovers. Among its many villages, several stand out for their altitude, character, and the distinct charm of their ancient tea trees.
Bama Village — “The King of Pu’er Tea”
Bama (拔玛) is both a village name and an Aini word meaning “big tree.” Many teas from Nannuo call themselves Bama, but the true Bama Village lies high on the mountain slopes, where only a handful of small tea gardens remain.
With its limited harvest and extraordinary reputation, Bama’s teas are among the rarest and most expensive on Nannuo Mountain. At 1,600 meters above sea level, the teas are renowned for their strong energy, balanced body, and clear sweetness beneath a light astringency. The aroma is bright, and the taste—sweet with a touch of strength—earns Bama the title “King of Pu’er.”
Banpo Lao Zhai — A Forest Hidden in the Clouds
Banpo Lao Zhai (半坡老寨) rests midway up Nannuo Mountain, more than five kilometers from the nearest village. Though perched on a slope, it is embraced by dense, well-preserved rainforest: towering ancient trees, murmuring streams, and a richness of life that makes the place feel like a natural park. Beneath that forest canopy lie countless ancient tea trees, their gnarled roots weaving through the earth like stories of old.
The tea from Banpo Lao Zhai comes from tall arbor trees with large leaves. The processed leaves are loose and dark in color; the liquor, pale greenish-white and crystal clear. The first sip may bring a hint of bitterness, but the aftertaste quickly transforms—refreshing, sweet, and full of vitality. Honey and orchid fragrances emerge gently, as light as lotus. The texture is fine and smooth, the body full yet pure, leaving a deep, lingering tea energy (cha qi).
Zhulin Zhai — The Bitter Edge of Nannuo
Zhulin Zhai (竹林寨), one of Nannuo’s thirty villages, spans roughly 1,200 mu. The tea trees thrive at an altitude where rainfall reaches 1,500–1,750 mm and temperatures stay between 16–18°C—perfect growing conditions.
But Zhulin’s tea is known for one word: bitterness. From the first sip, the bitter taste floods the mouth. Yet that bitterness carries depth—the mid-palate reveals gentle sweetness, and the finish offers a persistent, mellow charm. Young teas from Zhulin are especially powerful, with strong cha qi, brisk intensity, and a lingering sweetness after the storm.
Guniang Zhai — The Maiden’s Aroma
Guniang Zhai (姑娘寨), meaning “Maiden Village,” lies at the very heart of Nannuo Mountain.
Its Pu’er tea features plump, sturdy leaves and long, thick buds. The fragrance is light and honeyed, graceful as its name suggests. The bitterness is more pronounced than that of neighboring villages, yet the returning sweetness (hui gan) is both stronger and longer-lasting—like a melody that doesn’t fade.
Shitou Lao Zhai — Where Stone and Tea Endure
Shitou Lao Zhai (石头老寨), a Hani minority village, sits 8 km from the Nannuo village committee and 21 km from Gelanghe township. With an elevation of 1,002 meters, annual rainfall of 1,900 mm, and an average temperature of 18°C, it is one of Nannuo’s most ancient and storied settlements.
The dry leaves are long and tightly rolled; once brewed, the liquor turns bright golden yellow. The aroma bursts with honey and wildflower sweetness. Bitterness is faint and astringency quick to fade, replaced by deep, cooling sweetness and a strong throat feel (hou yun). The tea is potent, long-lasting, and highly resistant to multiple infusions—its mountain energy and wild elegance a gift of the primeval forest it shares with towering native trees.
Duoyi Zhai — The Highest Peak
Duoyi Zhai (多依寨) crowns Nannuo Mountain as its highest village at 1,900 meters, often shrouded in mist. Because of the cold altitude, some tea trees even “hibernate” through winter. But those that wake in spring yield the most resilient, flavorful leaves of all.
The ancient-tree teas of Duoyi are dark in leaf color, from tall arbor trees with large leaves. They are pure, mellow, and bright—almost no bitterness or astringency, only layers of honey and orchid fragrance. The mouthfeel is smooth and thick, the texture fine as silk, the aftertaste sweet and lingering.
Yakou Lao Zhai — The Golden Flow
The ancient tea gardens of Yakou Lao Zhai (丫口老寨) are surrounded by tall forest trees. Their fallen leaves decompose into rich organic matter, feeding the tea roots with natural humus year after year. Compared with tea trees grown in barren soil, Yakou’s leaves are soft, glossy, and full of vitality.
The fragrance is subtle, carrying faint honey notes amid a gentle freshness. The tea soup is sweet and thick, with an initial touch of bitterness and astringency that quickly transforms into rich, golden sweetness. The balance of sensations—bitterness melting into sweetness—creates the signature harmony of Yakou teas.
From Bama’s majestic energy to Banpo’s forest serenity, from Zhulin’s fierce bitterness to Duoyi’s misty grace—each village of Nannuo Mountain carries a distinct heartbeat.
Together they form a living museum of Pu’er’s natural and human heritage, where every leaf tells of rain, altitude, and time itself.