Text 19369, 79 rader
Skriven 2014-11-14 10:10:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: Asia 284
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Orange juice is very expensive at the hotel and comes in
very small glasses. The plus is that it tastes pretty good
and is (according to the management) certified wholesome.
I believe Lilli had an egg and toast as well.

We wandered around town and to the famous waterfront, whose
supposedly beautiful views were socked in with smog, and
where we were accosted by numerous beggar children, touts,
and semi-tame livestock until we arrived at what might be
considered the less tony (but still perfectly civilized)
part of town, where you can get an order of momo for under
50c. I seriously considered doing a momo comparison at the
half-dozen places we passed, but I was perhaps excessively
concerned for my digestion, and we held off until we found
a hygienic-looking restaurant, actually one where a tout
out front had welcomed us some time before and seemed
excessively disappointed when we smiled and swept past.

Newari Kitchen is one of the tidiest restaurants on the
main street; also one of the quietest. Lilli ordered the
minestrone, which quite clearly came from a can, but at
least neither a Progresso nor a Campbell's one. I got an
assortment of snacks - fried spiced soybeans, which were
delicious; fried spiced dried buffalo which was like jerky
but in biggish cubes so hard to chew - made it certain that
one knew that one was eating dead animal flesh of unknown
but advanced age; and buffalo in spicy sauce, which was
still fibrous but eatable. I have no reason to disbelieve
that these are typical native food items (for those who
adhere to the belief that buffalo are distinct from cattle,
the eating of which is forbidden). We finished by splitting
an order of chicken momo, which cost three or four times as
much as it might at one of the shacks down by the water,
but which by way of consolation were certified healthy and
as a bonus quite excellent. Gurkha beer, which despite all
the advertisements for other kinds, particularly, oddly,
Tuborg and San Miguel, seemed to be the standard offer.

We arranged for the hotel driver to take us across town to
the International Mountain Museum, a modern structure that
houses artifacts of famous expeditions and displays of the
geology, anthropology, and biology of the region. It was
modern, fascinating (for an hour or so), and not grossly
expensive. After which, it was said that Sarangkot offered
the most beautiful views of some of the most beautiful
mountains, so we went there. Unfortunately it was totally
socked in. We decided to walk up the (innumerable) steps
through the Tibetan village to a famous viewpoint, hoping
that perhaps we might get a glimpse of something; on the
way a rather obnoxious young would-be guide accosted us and
easily kept pace with us with his harangue as we panted our
way up. Of course, he had nothing interesting to offer, and
neither did the viewpoint. We refrained from buying textiles
or refreshments from the villagers. The drive back was as
foggy and unscenic as the way up.

Back in town, we'd heard good things about Once Upon a Time,
another place that offered both native and western food, so
we could again both be satisfied. A boisterous crowd greeted
us, mostly tourists, with a few more native people (affluent
ones) thrown in for variety. You sit on these uncomfortable
cushions at these low tables and periodically shift your
weight to prevent your feet from falling asleep, but the
experience is not bad all in all.

Lilli had a salami pizza that was unexceptional in any way
and would not have been surprising in Des Moines. I suspect
the cheese was made of buffalo milk, though. I ordered the
mutton biryani extra spicy, and it was very much ditto; I
needed to request more hot pepper, which was quite hot when
it came. More of that Gurkha beer, at least better than that
darn Everest.

Bone-chillingly cold again, and we couldn't get the room
heat to go on. Luckily there were enough blankets.

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