My fellow teacher Madam Devi Maya, invited William and I to her home for lunch. Because her husband is a doctor, she lives on the hospital grounds. We had never been to that part of town before and didn't quite know the way. We ended up taking a winding cattle path over pristine farmland:
Hay is always kept aloft, often in trees:
Eventually, we reached the hospital:
And met Devi's talkative three-year-old son:
Below we see the slippery slopes to card games on motorcycles:
Devi served us rice, a flavourful mixture of spinach, onions, chilis, and peas in thin cheese, spicy egg soup, and a delightful potato curry. She is a Nepali from the South of Bhutan so her potato curry is fried with tumeric and masala rather than your standard boiled-with-cheese kewa datse.
The spoon she gave me had writing on it that neither she nor either of us could identify. I put the question to my readers: Icelandic? Cuneiform? Elvish?
She laughed at the roundabout traverse we had taken to lunch and showed us the quick route back. It baffled me by being equally beautiful as the trip there:
It brought us up behind Chorten Cora and the tent city that has been set up there. Every year at this time pilgrims come from India side* to express their gratitude to the Indian princess who, three hundred years ago, selflessly volunteered to be buried to death inside the stupa to benefit all sentient beings and save Yangtse from a demon. We have been watching a film version of the legend. How cool is it to see a movie set within sight of your house?
* Bhutanese use the word "side" a lot, "from India side" rather than "from India" and "from my side! from my side!" rather than "I'll pay for this round."
Hay is always kept aloft, often in trees:
Eventually, we reached the hospital:
And met Devi's talkative three-year-old son:
Devi served us rice, a flavourful mixture of spinach, onions, chilis, and peas in thin cheese, spicy egg soup, and a delightful potato curry. She is a Nepali from the South of Bhutan so her potato curry is fried with tumeric and masala rather than your standard boiled-with-cheese kewa datse.
The spoon she gave me had writing on it that neither she nor either of us could identify. I put the question to my readers: Icelandic? Cuneiform? Elvish?
She laughed at the roundabout traverse we had taken to lunch and showed us the quick route back. It baffled me by being equally beautiful as the trip there:
It brought us up behind Chorten Cora and the tent city that has been set up there. Every year at this time pilgrims come from India side* to express their gratitude to the Indian princess who, three hundred years ago, selflessly volunteered to be buried to death inside the stupa to benefit all sentient beings and save Yangtse from a demon. We have been watching a film version of the legend. How cool is it to see a movie set within sight of your house?
Very soon we were back in the downtown core: home sweet feral-dog-infested home!
* Bhutanese use the word "side" a lot, "from India side" rather than "from India" and "from my side! from my side!" rather than "I'll pay for this round."
I'm so glad that your being so welcomed into other's home for meals and hospitailty. The town sure seems idealic. Dad M
ReplyDeleteSuch a stunning place!
ReplyDeleteThat spoon sure is a doozy! My guess is Tibetan, or some other language in the Siddham script family.
Hay in the trees--such a crasy idea---wouldn't it blow down?! It certainly would here as we've had some crasy-blustery days!
ReplyDeleteSounds like a nice invite and excursion though- thanks for sharing.
Love, Mom M
Hay on the tree is made in such a way that it is tightened with the help of rope or average sized logs. So it doesn't really gets blown !!! hahhahaha;
DeleteI have one back in my village; ....
Wonderful Blog by the way @Kendra...