Changes

Well, it depends, to a large extent, on the geographic location. In most of the world, the host is likely to ask you whether you would like some coffee. There are many countries, though, where the question is going to be, "``would you care for a cup of tea?" Five years ago The Economist published a great interactive map (based on data gathered by Euromonitor) where this great hot-drink divide can be clearly seen.

And then, as you can see in the graph above, there’s a handful of countries that are sitting squarely on the fence. It’s in these places where, instead of offering you tea or coffee, the host will offer you a choice: tea or coffee? In Australia the preferences appear to be most evenly split (50.3% for tea, 49.7% for coffee). In Europe, the two countries closest to the middle of the coffee-tea spectrum are Estonia and Poland. The question "``coffee or tea?" (''kawa czy herbata?'') is actually so common in Poland around breakfast time that it was the title of a popular ’90s Polish morning TV show.

The actual picture may not be as clear-cut as it seems due to the lack of data for vast swathes of Africa and by the fact that the survey was limited to only two kinds of hot drink. In southern South America, for example, the answer to the question, "``tea or coffee?", may actually be, "``yerba mate".

{{Video|url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0XxsasUHzaQ|poz=center|szer=350|opis="``I love coffee, I love tea..."<br />"''Java Jive" '' by the Manhattan Transfer}}

It gained acceptance as a&nbsp;recreational drink during the 17th century, especially after Antonio de León Pinelo determined, in 1636, that it was okay to consume cocoa during Catholic fasts. In Spain it became a&nbsp;common drink of the masses. A&nbsp;French countess observed in 1670 that "``having no chocolate is seen in Spain as being reduced to the same level of poverty as having no bread in our country." But in western Europe outside of Spain, chocolate remained expensive, exotic and limited to aristocratic tables. And the chocolate fad would soon fade and give way to another exotic drink.

[[File:Tea etymology.png|thumb|upright=1.5|How words for "``tea" have spread around the world]]The words for "``tea" in most languages of the world fall into one of two groups: they either sound more or less like ''teh'' or like ''cha''. The English word "``tea" is an example of the former, the Russian ''chay'' – of the latter. If you trace the etymologies to their ultimate origins, it turns out that they both come from different dialects of Chinese. There’s a&nbsp;popular explanation that the word for tea used in a&nbsp;given place depends on whether tea first arrived there by land or by sea. And it’s actually quite accurate. ''Teh'' comes from Amoy, a&nbsp;dialect of the Min Nan branch of Chinese, spoken in the port city of Xiamen on the Taiwan Strait. Dutch traders must have picked it up there and spread the word, as well as tea itself, in western Europe. ''Cha'', on the other hand, is the form used in the northern varieties of Chinese. The word was borrowed from there, at various stages, into Japanese, Korean and Persian. The ''cha'' form was also used in the Cantonese port city of Macau, visited by Portuguese trading vessels, which explains why Portuguese stands out among western European languages and refers to tea as ''chá''. In Persian ''cha'' became ''chay'' and in this form was further borrowed into Russian and thence, into all other Slavic languages.

All other Slavic languages except Polish, that is. The Polish word for tea is ''``herbata"'', which comes from Latin ''''herba thea"'', or "``tea herb". But it couldn’t be that simple. The word for tea may have come from the west, but the word for "``kettle" – ''``czajnik"'' – comes from Russian. Why isn’t it called ''``herbatnik"'', you might ask. Well, this word is already taken; it refers to a&nbsp;biscuit to be served with tea.

The Russian way is different still. First you boil water in a&nbsp;big metal urn called ''samovar'', or "``self-boiler". Then you open a&nbsp;tap in the side of the urn to pour the boiling water into a&nbsp;teapot filled with tea leaves and put the pot on top of the ''samovar'', where it continues to be heated by the water. You let the leaves steep for some time until you brew a&nbsp;very strong tea called ''zavarka''. Once it’s ready, you pour some ''zavarka'' into glasses (yes, glasses!) and fill with more boiling water from the tap. This way everyone can adjust the strength of their tea to their liking. Each glass is placed in a&nbsp;special metal holder called ''podstakannik'', or "``under-glass", so that you don’t scorch your fingers. A&nbsp;typical ''podstakannik'' is made of some sort of nickel alloy; in the past, wealthy Russians used to have their ''podstakanniki'' made of silver, but they quickly realized that this metal is too good a&nbsp;heat conductor. So you’ve got your ''zavarka'' brewed in your ''samovar'', all you need now is to sweeten your tea with some fruits cooked in syrup, known as ''varenye''.

A similar turnaround would later happen in the land down under – but in reverse. Prior to World War II, Australia, as you may have guessed, followed the British example by drinking tea and ignoring coffee as a&nbsp;beverage that was too costly and too difficult to brew. On 3 September 1939, Australia followed British example again by accepting the British declaration of war with Germany as its own (the king could not, after all, be at war and at peace with Germany at the same time). As Australian economy was being geared towards the war effort, basic food supplies – including tea – were rationed, so people had no choice but to drink less of it. At first, the Aussies were mostly helping Britain fight Germany and Italy in Europe and Africa; but as Japan expanded its Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere, threatening Australia itself, the British dominion refocused on the Pacific theatre and tighter coöperation with the United States. Between 1942 and 1945, a&nbsp;total of one million U.S. servicemen were stationed in this country of seven million. While Australian men complained about American G.I. Joes as being "``overpaid, oversexed and over here", Australian women were happy to welcome them at home. The only problem was, Americans drank coffee. Newspapers started to offer advice on how to brew it in a&nbsp;way that Americans would enjoy. A&nbsp;Melbourne-based daily wrote that:

The same piece then advised to use a&nbsp;"``special kind of percolator" and that "``a pinch of salt and mustard added to the coffee will improve its flavour." Anyway, Australians increasingly saw coffee as a&nbsp;token of modernity, glamour, convenience (especially after Nestlé instant coffee appeared in 1948) and being a&nbsp;nation all its own rather than a&nbsp;colonial outpost of the British Empire. The trend continued after the war and today, as we saw above, coffee is at least as popular down under as tea is.

Poland is another nation that is almost in the middle of the coffee-tea spectrum. But this wasn’t always the case. While coffee is prominently featured in ''Pan Tadeusz'', the national epic makes no mention whatsoever of "``essences from Chinese herbs drawn", as Mickiewicz calls tea in another poem. In the 18th century, tea was still viewed by some with suspicion:

Her daddy, however, remained convinced that good ol’ "``rye tea" was good enough for him: