The Nepali weekend is Saturday, today. We have a new guest at the homestay, a young Israeli gentleman (whom I embarrassingly misidentified as Lebanese because of his coffee and his Arab sounding name). He used to live in Nepal and speaks some broken Nepali as well, and is on his way to India to learn yoga.
I had a leisurely sort of morning, with reading and little work done, and then went out for a stroll and to buy some supplies for lunch. The stroll took me up to Triten, a Bon monastery just perched on the green hill above the homestay. I puffed up the steps as though I hadn’t been hiking in the mountains a week earlier (I think I should just give up on this uphill business) and wandered around it a bit. There wasn’t much to see of the monastery itself but there was a good view of Swayambhunath and the city spreading out with its funny high, colourful houses. There were clearly some preparations underway, as though the main halls were closed, monks were daubing what seemed to be little clay cones with red wax and attaching white wicks (I might be completely mistaken of course). I lingered for a bit, hoping that a prayer would begin, but I think I had just missed it.
I then walked down to Radha Krishna Mandir, an area where you can find shops and catch the minivans into Thamel. At the mandir itself there was some sort of event underway, with about a hundred women dressed in red seated around some singers. I listened for a bit then purchased some milk, mushrooms and garlic, and returned to the homestay. Here the Tibetans were having their lunch and they invited me to join and I agreed, since I had been curious about their cuisine. Lunch was rice with a topping of potatoes, bok choy and dried meat cooked in ginger. Not one of the great cuisines of the world, but curious and I’m glad to have tried it. I would like to try some of their other foods, such as tsampa, but am rather shy of accepting their invitations.
In the afternoon I worked, had tea, read. And here I am, waiting for dinner, which will (I predict) be daal bhaat with potatoes and saag and a dab of that quite nice but rather salty chutney. I must say, while it’s still no match for Pakistani daal in my taste at least, the homecooked daals are significantly nicer than those in the Langtang teahouses.