Time, Consumption and Everyday Life Practice, Materiality and Culture

Tea drinking became an integral part of Turkish life and culture relatively recently. While some had for centuries enjoyed teas imported from China and India, the masses took to tea in the 1930s, when tea was cheaper than imported coffee and provided a drink that was safer than water in many areas. Tea production began in 1924 and grew soon after 1937 when the first tea factory was established by the young Republic, in its pursuit of economic self-sufficiency. Today, Turkey is the world’s fifth largest producer of tea, behind India, China, Kenya and Sri Lanka. Over 200,000 families and 300 factories are involved in the cultivation of tea.

Since tea’s mass adoption, tea drinking became a significant part of daily life, with particular ways of making and drinking black tea and certain cultural ways of thinking about and relating to it. Traditionally, in Turkey, tea is prepared in a samovar-style double teapot (çaydanlık), where loose tea leaves are put into a small kettle placed on the top of a larger kettle with boiling water. In North-eastern Turkey, and in the best tea houses (çayhane) across the country, tea is prepared in a samovar. It is common to mix different teas (including different brands of teas) in order to create a unique blend. The ability to make a wonderfully flavourful tea is a matter of pride. The type of top kettle to be used (porcelain is believed to be the best. and metal, especially aluminum, the worst), the type of water to be used, the time to preheat the kettle and the time of brewing and standing are among the numerous criteria related to the making of ‘proper’ tea. After brewing, steeped tea from the small top kettle is poured into the glass and then diluted with water from the bottom kettle to the desired strength. This method allows each person to drink the tea as they desire it: strong and steeped, or light with lots of water added. Serious tea drinkers take their tea koyu (dark and strong). There is a belief that the further east one goes in Turkey, the darker the colour – tavşankanı (rabbit’s blood) – preferred. The dark tea colour is also associated with toughness, whereas the light-coloured tea is referred to as paşa çayl, suggesting that such tea is only for a pampered or a frail person (a sissy) or a child. The serious drinker takes her/his tea black: Turks rarely add milk to their tea, but sometimes a slice of lemon may be preferred. Generally, two small sugar cubes will accompany tea served in public. It is customary to have a few rounds of tea at a time.

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The tea glass is so important in daily life it is used as a measurement in recipes. The glass is called ince belli (thin-waisted) after the ideal female body shape (see Figure 12.1). The tiny tulip-shaped glass has to be held by the rim to save one’s fingertips from burning. Fingers wrapped around the ince belli provide warmth in the winter and the hot tea is said to balance the body temperature in the summer. The clear glass allows the drinker to appreciate the ruby colour and the radiance of the tea that some poems refer to. Many poems and folk songs make allusions to the colour, sensuality and sociality of tea:

Your lips are red,

Like the tea from Rize.

(section from an anonymous folk song, http://www.biriz.biz/cay/kultur/turkcaykul.htm)

The nightingale is immersed in the troubles of love,

Pour the tea, in the colour of the rose,

In the gathering of wise men,

Fill the glasses, and fill again.

(section from a Sufi hymn, http://www.biriz.biz/cay/kultur/turkcaykul.htm)

Phrases such as çay keyfi (pleasure of tea) refer to the sensual pleasures of tea drinking. The sensuality emphasized includes the ruby colour of the tea, the shape of the glass, the embracing hold of the hand on the thin waist of the glass, the warmth in your hands, especially on a cold day, the curving steam rising from the ince belli, the melody of sipping and the teaspoons clinking, as well as the taste and the smell.

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Çay keyfi refers to the coziness, homeliness and relaxing comfort of the home as well. In many Turkish homes where the homemaker is a housewife, a teapot is put on the stove in the morning before breakfast and is continuously boiling, with water being added periodically to the bottom kettle and new tea leaves to the top kettle, until the family retires for the night. If the homemaker is a working woman, then the tea is continuously boiling after dinner. The conventional presence of the boiling teapot indicates that tea drinking is an ongoing, almost a background, activity; tea is consumed during breakfast and before or after any meal, while working and resting, talking and meditating, watching TV and playing backgammon, or entertaining guests. To our informants, the sound of the kettle on the stove is the definition of the home and the rhythm of family life. Tea is offered to a guest casually (at times, without asking first) as a sign of hospitality, whereas coffee is considered to be more ceremonious. At home or at the office, it is considered rude to refuse the tea offered and a refusal of the tea is taken as a refusal of the hospitality of the host. Thus, tea is a nearly indispensable part of any gathering or meeting in Turkey.

Tea is a beverage that is consumed either privately or publicly, in tea houses (çayhane) and tea gardens (çaybahçesi) or when receiving guests at home. An introductory guide to Turkish culture says: ‘It is hard to imagine breakfasts, social gatherings, business meetings, negotiations for carpets in the Grand Bazaar, or ferry rides across the Bosphorus without the presence of tea. With tea servers in streets, shopping malls, and parks shouting, ‘çay!’ (chai) the beverage is always within shouting distance. It is fundamental to Turkish social life…’ (http://www. turkishculture.org). Indeed, tea houses and gardens have been the preferred social hub where people meet, exchange news and gossip. Gaining popularity in the 1950s, tea gardens became sites for social outings of extended families. One informant recalled that his

whole family (about fifteen people) would go to a tea garden, order a samovar to the table, regulate its heat to keep tea boiling hot and chat for hours. The kids would play with the pebbles or chase each other, while adults would talk, play backgammon or cards. Occasionally, you could buy simit [thin bagel-shaped pastry] there or sunflower seeds, but generally it was just tea, lots of tea for three–four hours.

Unlike the serene Japanese tea garden, Turkish tea gardens are bustling with social activity, with kids running around, music playing and lively chit-chatting, people coming and going, and, of course, the ongoing clinking of tiny teaspoons in the tea glasses. At the tea garden or at home, tea is a democratic social lubricant. Anyone can afford it and serve it to guests. While telling us their experiences with tea, most informants recall sitting together and having a cozy time with friends or having a pleasant evening with family over rounds of tea. Many practices of sociality such as playing backgammon or cards or simple sohbet (relaxed, friendly, enjoyable conversation or chatting) are also accompanied by tea.

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Such a homely and socially and sensually loaded drink is perhaps surprising to see at business meetings, where it is prominently partaken. At the workplace, tea disrupts the institutionalized rhythms and injects a dose of warm sociality into industrial environments. Consider the continuously boiling electric pot at a departmental meeting or tea served at the beginning of an interview or a meeting by a tea server employed solely for that purpose. Turks do not stop for a tea break; rather a boiling teapot is often placed in a meeting room, so participants can enjoy fresh hot tea, refilling their glasses whenever and as much as they want. The association of tea with sociality and hospitality makes tea a welcome disruption to work times and spaces. And such fleeting enactments carry the spirit of sociality on a regular basis. Yet, the disruption becomes routinized itself. Now carpet shops automatically offer tea as part of the sales process and most meetings at the workplace start with tea. Even though tea service has become a norm and a routine in the workplace, it is still seen as a marker of sociality and hospitality and is missed if not offered.

We have heard it said that Turkish tea is timeless. Tea is such an integral part of Turkish culture that it appears to have ‘come from very, very long, history, it comes from maybe Asian Turks…’ Many informants speculate that it will not disappear because tea drinking fits the Turkish culture: it implicates cherished idea(l)s of hospitality, sharing and togetherness. Indeed, the word ‘natural’ was a leitmotif in our informants’ comments, as they talked about tea being a ‘a matter of routine’ and of ‘having a cozy time being and chatting with others’. That ethos of timelessness is reinforced through tea’s omnipresent visibility: in one informant’s words, ‘You can always see tea in Turkey, everywhere, you can see it … everywhere! In shops, people are ordering tea, in restaurants, after dinner … also at … places where you can’t imagine you would get tea. For example, people offer tea while you wait at a repair shop or gas station.’ In turn, timelessness and the omnipresent visibility are reified through the particular materiality of tea: the imaginary of one colour (rubyred), one taste (slightly tangy, perhaps similar to strong English breakfast tea), one shape (tulip-shaped glasses). Even the billboard advertising of a mobile operator welcoming tourists at an airport reinforces such imaginary in the way it represents the country tourists are arriving at by the symbolism of tea being served in tulipshaped tea glasses on a silver tray that hangs from silver chains (Figure 12.1). Consistent with Schatzki’s notion of ‘timespace’ (in this volume) the untemporality of tea goes hand in hand with its unspatiality.

Changes in the Implements of Turkish Tea Culture

The first teabag in Turkey was brought by Unilever. Lipton, which entered the market in 1984, has now captured 15% of the tea market. Çay-Kur, the state-affiliated enterprise that evolved from the first tea factory in Turkey and enjoyed a monopoly until 1984, when tea processing and packaging were opened to private enterprises, has 65% market share. After Lipton, numerous Turkish firms also introduced their teabags. Loose tea has recently been losing share to teabags, which showed a 34% growth (versus 24% for loose tea) in retail sales between 1997 and 2004. Now teabags constitute 5–10% of the tea market. The head of the tea industry association says that ‘[i]n the developed countries 85% of tea consumed is in the form of tea bags. Since Turkey is a developing country, that’s what will eventually happen in Turkey too. Tea bags are an inevitable result of technological development’ (http:// www.reyon.net/roportaj\_ayrinti.aspx?intvw\_id=29)

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Teabags were among the first material objects of convenience to be introduced and, as the above quote indicates, became a marker of progress in Turkey (cf. Shove 2003). In the late 1980s and early 1990s fashionable cafés and restaurants served only teabags in cups and mugs and one would be hard pressed to find tea brewed in a çaydanlık in the high street. Moreover, industrial-size tea machines made their appearance in hotels and offices, along with foam and plastic cups. However, the new millennium saw the introduction of larger tulip-shaped glasses, the reintroduction of ‘traditional’ saucers, electric double pots and electric samovars, and the return of brewed tea to those same trendy cafés and restaurants. Now most cafes have two items on their menus: demli çay (brewed tea) served in ince belli glasses and çay (tea) served in cups or mugs. The latter, the normalized tea, is the teabag, that comes in numerous kinds of black, green, herbal and fruit teas.

With the introduction of teabags, a large variety of stovetop and electric teapots, tea glasses and saucers appeared in stores, cafés and homes (see http: //www.tasarim. itu.edu.tr/images/genova/genova\_2.jpg for examples). Appliance firms produced electronic versions of the double teapot, which they claim provides the perfect tea. In turn, for those who don’t want to give up their çaydanlık, electric or stovetop, Lipton introduced large teabags to fit it. Teapots evolved from a uniquely shaped metal or the bottom kettle metal with a porcelain top kettle to a large variety of forms, designs, patterns, and materials. There also used to be a single-sized tea glass, but the 1990s saw a larger tulip-shaped glass, which increased in size again in 2005 and appeared in a variety of designs. The large ones (holding more tea, and some with handles, like a mug) mark fashion, novelty and modernity. These new bigger but still ince belli (thin-waisted) glasses are referred to with the names of the Turkish female pop singers – Sibel Can or Ajda – perhaps implying at once modernity and Turkishness. The tea plates also follow fashion: from metal and plain glass to contemporary designs to all kinds of retro designs, reminiscent of rustic rural or Ottoman patterns. So, now designers practise their trade on decorated and multicoloured kettles and on contemporary and reinvented glasses and saucers.

In recent years, the wide availability of electric teapots and teabags has produced some interesting changes in the tea drinking practice in Turkey. We argue that what engenders such changes is not solely new materials and the discourses around their use (cf. Shove and Pantzar 2005), but also the temporalities implicated in these materials.

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From Untemporality to the Choices of Tea Time: Temporality and Spatiality of Tea

As teabags made an entry and conventional tea implements underwent some changes, in size, design and increased variety, tea making and drinking practices diversified. Rather than the one colour, one taste, one size brewed tea, tea drinking suddenly became riddled with choice, and consequently individual decisions could be made regarding brewed versus teabag, type of flavour, amount and time. There even is a decision to be made whether to drink tea or not. As one informant explained, because an electric teapot boils water fast, there is no need for continuous boiling, but then the tea is ‘not already there’, so she finds herself not drinking tea as much but opting for something already there, such as Coke or juice. Then, there is a decision to be made about the kind of tea. To be sure, for brewed tea there are also decisions to be made about kinds of tea to mix for a perfect blend for everybody to enjoy. In contrast, the decisions related to teabags are based on individual preferences and, potentially, for each cup. Also, there is a decision about how much tea to have. If one is to have only one cup, one takes a teabag; if one feels like a lengthy ‘tea drinking session’, one makes a kettle of brewed tea and refills one’s tiny glasses periodically. Thus, the tea drinking practice associated with the use of new and old tea drinking materials has evolved into a choice-based, individualized activity.

The presence of such choices brings to the fore a reflexivity regarding the purposes for tea drinking across different times. In this manner, tea drinking comes to mark different times and designates time periods. For our informants, in the morning tea drinking is a wake-up time, whereas tea after meals is a digestion time. Tea while running errands or shopping is ‘a stop–revive–survive’ time; similarly, when travelling ‘a tea break’ means a time to refresh. Consumed during studying or working, tea helps concentration, whereas tea after work helps to unwind. The tea served at the beginning of the meeting is both the icebreaker and the invitation to get on with the business, whereas complementary after-meal tea in restaurants signals the bill time. Tea on a Sunday afternoon creates a pleasurable time: served to company, it creates a warm social time of hospitality, or to oneself, relaxing me-time which is not to be interrupted by anyone, including one’s children. Even at business meetings tea marks a time for hospitality. During travel or work, it can also generate a resting time. Furthermore, an offer of tea signals the expected duration of an encounter: at a meeting, it means ‘I have 15–20 minutes for you’, whereas at a repair shop it might signal a wait of 15 minutes. Then, at a carpet shop, it is an indispensable part of selling as carpets are shown and stories told about meanings of patterns, the wools and the silks, how they were made and where. The time period designated by tea is not fixed. For example, in the words of one informant, if visitors indicate that ‘“[they] are coming for tea” … it is like saying “we will stay for a couple of hours and leave at a reasonable time”’.

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These tea times are composed in and through sets of materials, idea(l)s and ways of doing. That is, tea makes a particular time not by itself but rather in concert with a wider relational field, including breakfast or snack foods, notions about the proper sequence of meals and events, conceptions of appropriate conduct during certain times of the day, long-haul travelling, idea(l)s of hospitality, work and leisure. Tea drinking gets incorporated into the routines of daily life through re-occurrence, for example ‘for every breakfast’ or ‘when studying’. Tea drinking clearly partakes in the temporal rhythm of daily life, be it a part of a habit or a more reflexive choice. Moreover, some of the tea times call for brewed tea, others for teabags: we observe a hybrid, intentional and habitual use of the old and the new tea materials. Tea drinking as an enactor of daily rhythms is a variegated amalgamation of the new and the old.

What is perhaps more interesting than the hybridized choices of the new and the old is the (cor)responding idea(l)s. The presence of options engenders the necessity to articulate and legitimize the emergent decision, be it brewed tea or a flavoured teabag. We find that such articulations relate to the idea(l)s of either modernity or sensual/aesthetic and social pleasures. Teabags and electric teapots are usually associated with modernity – efficiency (‘time-saving’ and ‘only one cup’), progress (‘technological innovation’), Western novelties and individualism and choice (‘only one cup’ and ‘can choose which tea you want’). When discussing the grounds for adopting teabags and electric teapots, not unexpectedly people cite speed, convenience and efficiency. For example, an informant said that her family purchased an electric çaydanlık because ‘it was a new machine and easy to use’, but then she added, ‘we don’t normally use it … only when we have lots of guests’, when her mother brings it into the living room to serve tea quickly. Even those people who see teabag tea as tasteless admit that this type of tea could be an option for work time and in circumstances of time constraint. As one person put it, since it takes little time and effort, ‘you can have it as you put your shoes on’. In addition, the teabag is not only quick but it is also clean and efficient; ironically, therefore, the teabag frees us of the burden of the mundane (cleaning), but then itself turns into the mundane (‘you can have it as you put your shoes on’). Time is precious in today’s world, so the instant and the quick are seen as both necessary and fashionable. Such is the sentiment adopted and propagated by Çay-Kur’s teabag advertising – ‘For everyone who believes time is money.

The other idea(l) is sensual/aesthetic and social pleasures. As a counterpoint to the multiplicity of tea choices, there emerges the discourse of tea time, which flows smoothly, pleasantly and peacefully. Here, tea time is not a resource allocated for a particular purpose, rather it is ‘made with anticipation’ and sensual and ‘tasteful enjoyment’ of life itself. For example, one informant noted that ‘despite all the hassle of waiting for it to boil and adding water’, she prefers a stovetop kettle to an electric one, because ‘the sound of the boiling teapot is homely’. Drinking of ‘traditional’ tea – brewed tea of ruby colour in an ince belli (thin-waisted) glass – has come to be regarded as a distinctly sensual aesthetic experience, animated by the magical sound of the çaydanlık boiling, the smell of a personalized blend of tea leaves, radiating colour, the warmth of the glass in one’s hand, holding the glass from its waist, and the sound the tiny teaspoon makes over the glass when stirring. All of these and more culminate in the sensual and affective keyif (pleasure) of tea drinking.

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The care in preparation and consumption are consonant with the calm attendance to the tea and its pleasures. The informants pointed out that tea drinking requires time because one has to savour the taste of tea and enjoy the melody of tea sipping. That is, there is a pleasure in tea drinking that is incompatible with rushing, so ‘no time – no tea’, as one informant put it. All of these pleasures are about experiencing tea in slow-motion: if you drink tea ‘as you put your shoes on’, you will not notice or discern any of the above. In contrast to the unnoticeable ordinary, the special is when time is noticed and claimed. Then, slow tea drinking is perhaps partaking in the performing of a particular time. Moreover, morality is implicated in the performance of time: whereas a fast flow is valued for efficiency, a slow flow is valued for leisurely pleasures.

Taste is, of course, a critical sensory facet. The common understanding is that freshly brewed tea tastes better. Those who brew it in their çaydanlık emphasize the colour and the flavour they obtain, ways of brewing the best tea, and display an aura of higher morality and aesthetics than the bag people. For example, one self-acclaimed connoisseur never adds more water to the top kettle that has the tea leaves, and when the water runs out she throws those leaves away and puts in new leaves for the next, ‘fresh’, round of tea, almost every thirty minutes. This informant complained about her neighbour that she is a sloppy person since she keeps on adding water to the top kettle throughout a Sunday afternoon. Teabag tea is called sallama çay, which is a double entendre, referring to shaking or swinging as well as something done without much care or attention. Indeed, in contrast to the teabag tea, which, as one person put it, ‘borders on laziness and practicality’, the preparation of the brewed ‘fresh’ tea involves some effort, art and know-how. For example, ‘fresh tea’ is not just-made tea but the tea brewed in the small top kettle for the right amount of time. As an informant pointed out, ‘one has to know when the right time is’. This, in turn, involves know-how in terms of mixing different types and quantities of tea leaves to produce a perfect blend full-flavoured tea.

The idea(l) of social pleasures entails cozy togetherness. Tea is frequently associated with getting together with friends and family and having a good time. Prepared with care and ‘in anticipation of joy’, tea is regarded as part and parcel of an experience of serenity and informal warmth. When served to guests, it objectifies sociality and hospitality. The above informant, whose mother uses an electric teapot, emphasized that they use it only when they have ‘lots of guests’, and legitimized their reliance on the efficiency of technology with domestic hospitality. More significantly, social time with friends and family, ‘cozy togetherness’ and hospitality are envisaged to be central aspects of Turkish culture; and tea is regarded as a ‘natural’ part of such occasions. Our informants linked sohbet (informal conversation and chatting) with keyif (pleasure): the imagined and lived joys of tea entail sociality and cozy homeliness as much as sensual aesthetics.

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Materiality is very much part of these sensual and social pleasures. The material constituents such as the glass with its shape and texture, the liquid with its hotness and colour, the kettle and the spoon with the sounds they make, and the particular blend of tea leaves with their smell and taste inaugurate particular senses as well as sociality and hospitality. They also (re)present tea drinking as a sensual experience. The materials do more than just activate the senses in the actual moment of consumption: tea drinkers encounter a quasi-corporeal dimension of the materiality of tea – an aesthetic and affective side. Embodying senses, emotions and knowledge, the materials and the qualities of those materials articulate various cultural ideal(s), such as comfort, virtue, friendship and efficiency.

In sum, in the face of the rapid cultural transformation in Turkey, the once mundane çay becomes the special demli çay. The new tea implements and the changes in practices, along with underlying discourses of modernity, prompted a fracturing and splitting of the tea drinking practice. The arrival and adoption of the new demarcated brewed tea drinking as special, with associated discourses of leisurely sensory and social pleasures, apart from the ordinary and the takenfor-granted activity. The convenient tea drinking materials turned an untemporal, mundane and background activity into a temporal, involved and dedicated one. Teabags and electric pots signify tea drinking as fast, efficient and instrumental, in contrast to the demli çay, which is slow, messy and something for leisurely pleasure. Informants said that although they use teabags at work, they generally prefer demli çay in their leisure time. Having demli çay is associated with time that is not structured and hurried, when one can enjoy a carefree, friendly conversation with family and friends, a casual game of backgammon or unhasty people watching. Made in a slow-boiling double teapot, it almost literally serves to warm the cold new modern present, making it safe and liveable (see Ger 2005). Further, when juxtaposed with the novel mugs, plastic cups, teabags and electric kettles, the well-worn tulip-shaped tea glasses, loose tea and çaydanlık came to articulate and objectify that slowness, that special time, distinguishing it from the fast, normal and new time. Then, the cultural meanings associated with tea drinking practice in Turkey, such as hospitality, sociality and sensual aesthetics, become emphasized anew through the use of the conventional implements as opposed to the new ones. For some, demli çay is the blood of social life, an affirmation of a culture being left behind, and as such it bears a sense of nostalgia. But, generally, demli çay drinking is about participating positively in Turkish culture, performing it and re-actualizing present-day Turkishness through a reliably familiar activity, which is made special through the interaction of new and old objects and doings as people negotiate the new in relation to the commonplace, moving back and forth between the two as they go about their daily lives. Thus, commonplace objects when set against new alternatives can potentially gradually become extraordinary artefacts, actualizing and materializing slow and special times. Furthermore, untemporality can become special temporality as people oscillate between various temporal logics, culminating in a continuing cycle of ways of doing, which reflect idea(l)s and moralities.

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Hence, a mundane practice such as tea drinking can become special when new materials along with the associated discourses of modern convenience encounter and defamiliarize a taken-for-granted practice. When there are choices, decisions to be made, the old ordinary also generates its legitimizing discourse: sensory aesthetics, hospitality, sociality – the morality of slow time. Moreover, a reflexive taking of time marks a particular break as special and sets it apart. However, the distinction between the temporalities of ordinary and special is contingent at best. These times are dialogic and constantly interrupt each other. Special times, along with their accompanying objects, punctuate and exist within and in relation to the linear flow of fast time; they sustain it by making it liveable. While both the transient Carnival and the transcendental Christmas are special times, the interaction between the two is akin to the oscillation between the special and ordinary tea times in Turkey (Miller 1994). The interplay and the movement between the ordinary and special times are more imperative than the specifics of any one of them.

Tea drinking practices in Turkey reveal some interesting insights. We see that, in addition to new things and new doings being framed by their relation to the old (Shove in this volume), old things and doings are also framed by their relation to the new. As the new is framed as the modern, clean and efficient, the old gets to be framed as the slow, experiential and special, in turn making the new rather ordinary. What was unseen, always there, and mute now becomes marked, elected and vocal, hence special. While the new makes the old visible, the old refracts through the new in multiple ways (electric double kettles, different designs of glasses) and thereby becomes visible. While the new marks and frames the old, the natural, the normal, the old marks and frames the new. Our study of tea practices in Turkey makes us realize that ‘what does the old do?’ is a question as important as ‘what does the new do?’

Secondly, we suggest that convenience technologies change the organization of time, but in multiple directions rather than one. Shove (2003) argues that convenience technologies have contributed to a flexible organization of time. For example, washing moved from ‘laundry days’ to fragmented moments of loading and unloading washing machines and thus disrupted collective rhythms. In the case of the convenient teabags, the reverse happens: tea drinking moves from any time to designated times that are consistent with the collective rhythms of leisure and work times.

Finally, akin to Eliade’s (1957) observation that profane time made sacred time possible and vice versa, we find that ordered in time tea drinking associated with teabags turned a common way of tea drinking in Turkey into a special activity, set apart in time. Perhaps, here ‘the divine’ is the Turkish culture, its values such as sociality and hospitality, its artefacts such as the ince belli, and its institutions such as the family. Furthermore, it is ‘largely the history of the devaluations and the revaluations which make up the process of the expression of the sacred’ (Eliade 1957: 25). In this case, the role of the material objects in ‘the devaluations and the revaluations’, thus in producing special and ordinary times, is of particular interest. It is the interaction of the new and the old tea drinking materials, discourses around their use, and associated time and ways of doing that afforded rediscovering and re-evaluating the now-special times in the formerly mundane.

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