Dal Bhat And Mo-Mos -- Nepali Eats

Selecting a goat for one of the annual feasts in Nepal.  

Flying into Nepal, I had a big question mark on my mind as to the food.  I had studied up on the place beforehand, including what people ate, but even so, couldn't quite orientate my taste buds in that direction.  The ingredients, even the names, were too exotic or something.

Dal Bhat, for instance, the signature dish of the land.  But what the heck is that?  Dal Bhat?  Here is one definition:  

Dal Bhat:  a traditional meal originating in the Indian subcontinent, popular in many areas of Nepal, Bangladesh, and India.  It centers around steamed rice or Bhat and a cooked lentil soup called Dal.  Depending on the region and the season of the year, various side dishes complement.  Often served on elegant brass or silver sets.

I didn't realize it when I stepped off that airplane, I was about to experience one of the ultimate dishes for travelers...

  

A typical Dal Bhat...250 Rupees ($2.15 U.S.)

From left to right on the plate:  sauteed green beans and potatoes, steamed spinach, steamed rice, and mini-French fries.  The goblets contain lentil soup on the right and goat meat in curry on the left.  At top is a large corn chip and sliced cucumber.

What this added up to is a balanced meal, something that can be hard to find in some places when you're bouncing around the back country.  Heck, it can be hard to find in the Land of Burgers and Fries, the U.S.!

But in Nepal it's seemingly everywhere, everyday...and the ingredients vary depending on the season and what's being grown in that locale.  So it doesn't get boring.  You roll into a new town and it's a mini-adventure for the palate as to what's being served up.  Meanwhile the basic formula remains the same.

All this by way of saying, three cheers for Dal Bhat!

Popular saying in Nepal.

Lots of freshness at the marketplaces -- tomatoes, cauliflower, greens, etc. 

While coffee is consumed there in good measure, Nepal is generally a tea drinking country.  Most Nepalis start their day light -- a cup of masala or spicey milk tea and some kind of baked good.  Later in the morning they'll eat a hearty brunch, say at 10 or 11 in the morning.

The brunch often is in the style of Dal Bhat, only with eggs and maybe bread instead of the lentils and rice.  And it's just as good, as far as I'm concerned, and nutritious as well...

Start off with the Himalayan Times and a cup of masala tea

Later on -- a rolled-up omelet with curry vegetables and salsa-like condiment...

Or maybe go the roadhouse breakfast...this one for 200 Rupees ($1.75 U.S.), with ginger tea.

Sometime between brunch and dinner, maybe you want a snack, something small.  Give a try to some Mo-Mos.  Nepal is known for them.

They're on the order of dumplings with a filling of buffalo, chicken or vegetables, your choice.  In general I found them tasty, but rather on the greasy/oily side.  Squeeze one and you could lube up a rusty hinge with what oozes onto your palm!

So I'm glad I had them a few times, but wouldn't want them as a staple.  Nonetheless, these are one of the top restaurant offerings in Nepal...  

Typical Mo-Mos, these with chicken filling.  Note ooze on plate.

John Lennon's song, "Give Peace A Chance," could be an anthem here in Nepal.  There's so many shops, restaurants, guest houses, etc. using peace for a theme in one way or another.  Below are a few examples...

Restaurant in Bhaktaphur.  Note woodcarving, which the city is known for.

Your humble correspondent, ready for the dusty streets of Kathmandu.

Many eateries vying for vegans and vegetarians.

And let's not forget the soups.  Nepal has some of the best that I've had in Asia or anywhere for that matter.  Simple, hearty and tasty.  Here's one of the most popular...

 "Thukpa," this one with rice noodles and slices of  buffalo meat, about $1.60 U.S.

  

Having finished eating a Dal Bhat one evening, I was sitting in a restaurant in Kathmandu and gestured to the waiter to get my check.  To my surprise, he approached and asked, "Would you like to finish the meal, sir?"

Finish the meal? I wondered.  What the heck does he mean by that?  Desert or something?

He held out a set of bowls containing seeds.  In Nepalese they're called simply "sup,"  Also known widely as anise or aniseed.  He explained that you don't toss back a handful, like say with peanuts.  Rather, you take a pinch and nibble on them like a chipmunk does a morsel, savoring the flavor.  This aids in the digestion and leaves a pleasant aftertaste, with a hint of licorice.  Thus the phrasing used there, finishing the meal.

Anise or aniseeds for "finishing the meal."

Speaking of finishing things, this does it for my series of travelogues on Nepal.  As I've stated throughout, the country was difficult to get around, often dirty and dusty, the roads hellish.  But considering the culture, the food, etc., one of the most fascinating places I've ever visited.

With that in mind, and if you have the urge to go, I'd say go for it.  If nothing else, the scenery and the people were wonderful.  

Thanks to those of you who followed along through all four of these.  Happy Holidays and happy travels, wherever they may take you!

Nepalese flag

[END OF SERIES ON NEPAL]

Conversation With A Monk

Monastery Kopan

After two weeks in Nepal I found myself faced with that inevitable question -- what do you do after you've been beat up by the roads, choked by the dust and smog, deafened by the swarms of motorbikes?...

Why, check in to a Buddhist monastery, of course.  In my case it was the Kopan Center for Buddhist Study and Meditation, on a hilltop overlooking the city of Kathmandu and its urban sprawl.

Sign outside check-in.

I was shown to a dorm with ten bunks, the mattresses about as thick as a book of the Sutras, their sacred texts, and about as hard...handed a sheet and pillowcase, and shown the bathroom down the hallway.  After that I was pretty much on my own.

The cost?  $7.40 U.S. per night, which includes three meals (vegetarian) and 5 p.m. tea and socializing.  You're free to attend morning Puja (chanting and prayers) at 6 a.m., Dharma lectures at 10, and various other monk-related  activities.

Don't interfere with the monks in their day-to-day activities, I was advised.  Then pointed over toward the dining hall, where people were gathering for afternoon tea.

Entrance plaza and forum.

View from dining hall.

Decorations over Gompa (chapel) doorway.

After a few days there I came to realize, what a difference from the rest of Nepal, where most of the people are Hindus. They routinely eat meat (buffalo, goat and chicken mainly) and their culture/religion is somewhat shrill.

In contrast, Kopan is an island of Buddhism hovering above the exotic madhouse that is Kathmandu.  Instead of motorbikes blatting by, it is meatless-ness and tranquility (except for the planes roaring over from time to time from Tribhuvan International).

But sounds do echo through regularly, of course.  Monk sounds.  Chanting starts up pre-dawn and occurs at periods throughout the day, punctuated by the ringing of bells and the occasional BONG from the main Gompa or chapel.  In their introductory literature, they ask that you "talk small" while there and don't even harm an insect.  I blinked aplenty at that last one, let me tell you, not even an insect? 

Monks debating and discussing the morning lesson.

Lady monks at nearby monastery for women.  Note shaved heads.

Lady monks bundling incense sticks to sell.  

I managed a private session with a monk, a respected teacher there.  He in his sandals and burgundy robes.  Me in my New Balances and black nylon pants.  (Shoes were shed at the door.)  I had questions about monk life and he had questions about American life.  A sample of what transpired:

"About this no-killing thing, not even killing an insect," I started things off.  "What about if a mosquito is biting me?  I'm not supposed to swat it?

"Our teachings are that all living things are sacred," he explained, "and that all should be granted the sanctity of life.  Such thinking is necessary for the higher progressions."

These higher progressions refer to reincarnation and getting off the endlessly rotating wheel of life.  We can never escape this cycle, never break free, unless we progress in our thinking and in our actions.  Not killing is a way of doing that, I came to understand, not even an insect.

(As best as I could, I respected this and didn't mash a cockroach once scuttling across a floor in the dorm.  So I expect to be getting off that rotating wheel pretty soon.)

Wheel of life...Note monster putting the bite on we mortals.

Then it was his turn:  "You in America are very changeable.  A lot of newness in your culture.  A lot of new things."

"Oh yes," I responded.  "There's a new fad, a new product, a new music every month practically.  I can't even keep track of it."

"My question is, what do you have that lasts?" he wondered.  "What in your culture is old and golden?"

This took me aback and I struggled a bit to answer, not being used to such a question.  Eventually though, I ticked off a few things -- religion, the English language, the U.S.  Constitution, etc.  "To tell you the truth," I sighed, "a lot of these seem to be waning in the U.S. these days...are under assault even.  I'm not sure where we're heading with all that."

The main Gompa where our discussion took place.

I asked him why monks were so persecuted in S.E. Asia through the years -- in Cambodia where the Khmer Rouge hunted them down in the Seventies and killed them by the thousands, almost wiping them out, in Tibet where the Chinese Communists did much the same in the Fifties, and so on.  I was curious, why the viciousness toward monks?  I mean, what harm are they causing?

"It's a question of devotion then, isn't it? he shrugged.  As short as this answer was, I could appreciate it -- In five days at monastery Kopan, one thing that stood out about the monks was this quality of devotion...and it wasn't devotion to some totalitarian government.

Talk about a contrast:  I was representative of a culture that changes every fifteen minutes or so; he was representative of one that hasn't changed in centuries.

It was an interesting half hour, to say the least.

Those Buddha eyes... seeming to follow me wherever I went.

[PART FOUR TO FOLLOW NEXT WEEK]

The Gurkha Rifles

The "mid hills" region at dawn.  Note winding road at bottom.

The second week in Nepal I took a bus trip out of Kathmandu.  The route wound its way over high passes, then dropped into valleys where sheer mountainsides fell off into raging rivers. 

We passed through what is called the "mid-hills region."  With the great Himalaya Range to the north, the steamy lowlands to the south, in many ways this is the beating heart of Nepal.  And this heartbeat, shall we say, can be a little irregular.  In fact, I alternated  between being awestruck at the scenery and outright terrified.  It took me two days to recover from the pounding, it was so rough.

(A lot of the roughness was caused by re-building of roads, I was told, and should be alleviated in coming years as those projects wrap-up.)

Note snow-capped Himalayas in background.

A rest stop was needed about here anyhow.

We stopped off at the city of Gorkha.  The tribal peoples there are famous as warriors and have been recruited by the British for two centuries as mercenaries.  Living at the altitudes that they do, they have fantastic endurance and make great soldiers.  Something in the genes, I'm told.  Their austere upbringing in the hills and the way of life there has much to do with it as well.

The Royal Gurkha Rifles, as they're known in the U.K.  Some of the Queen's own.  And their trademark curved knives, the khukuris, kind of a cross between a Bowie knife and a machete.

Nepalese Rangers, similar to Gurkha Rifles.  Note trademark cocking of the hats.

 ...and khukuri knives on waist belts.

A khukuri (smaller knives are for sharpening).

Beyond their prowess as a military unit, the Gurkha Rifles bespeak something larger about Nepal, one of the poorest countries in the world, and the lack of economic opportunity there.

I set out on a hike one day from a village in this middle hills region.  Descending a stone pathway, I was passed by a teenager laboring under a wicker basket.  He was panting hard and soaked with sweat.  Peering down into the basket, I could see only rocks and sand therein, a heavy lot of it.

"What are you going to do with that?" I asked.  "Build something?  Building materials?"

"Oh no," he said.  "I'm in training for the Rifles, the Gurkha Rifles.  Tryouts are coming up and I need to be ready."

The Gurkha Rifle wanna-be.  Note head-strap for his basket.

And there he goes!  Back up the hill once again.

He went on to explain that being selected for the Rifles was not just a job, it was pay and benefits, a pension afterwards, and you awarded citizenship in the United Kingdom, able to live in any of the Commonwealth countries -- Canada, Australia, New Zealand, etc.

"It's not just for me," he went on, "for my family.  We don't have that much.  And you get to be a Rifle...My Uncle was a Rifle", he smiled, a smile imbued with much pride.  And pride has a lot to do with it, I learned, pride for him, pride for his family, even for his village.  They would all hold their heads higher, should he make it.

I tried to compliment him on his speaking of English, which was also part of his preparation for the tryouts with the British.  But I found myself talking into thin air -- he had turned and was running back up that hill, continuing his training.

Popular symbol in Nepal -- crossed khukuris.

Popular saying as well.

Quite simply, being selected for the Rifles is an avenue of opportunity for young people in Nepal, a way out of the poverty into which many of them are born.  The British come every year and hold try-outs in cities about the country.  But it's a tough road --  only two hundred or so are chosen by the Brits all told, while twenty-some thousand show up for the tryouts.

In the last few years even more show up because the British are now accepting women into the ranks, to be used in various non-combat roles.  And I saw young women in training here and there about Nepal as well. 

The Gurkha bravery and ferocity in battle are the stuff of legend, and a lot of it can be learned at the Museum of the Gurkha Rifles in Pokhara, Nepal...

The museum.

Standing inspection during World War II as part of the British Army.

Gurkhas in training circa 1942.

In a sense, acceptance into the Rifles is a type of guest worker program for Nepalis.  Besides the military, many of them "go off" to construction and service jobs throughout that part of the world.  For a family member to work in another country for six months, then return home for six months is part of life for many families in Nepal.  And when a member does return home, he's often feted like a conquering hero. 

However,  because of the warrior heritage of many of Nepal's hill peoples, none of these other jobs has the benefits or the prestige of being one of the famous Rifles.  The motto of the Royal Gurkha Brigade speaks volumes:    

Better To Stand And Die Than Be A Coward

Despite that we spoke for only a few minutes on that stone walkway that day, here it is weeks later and I find myself hoping that that kid made it!

[PART THREE TO FOLLOW NEXT WEEK]

Intro To Nepal -- Holy Festivals And High Tragedy

From 30,000 feet -- first look at the Himalayas.

Talk about timing...

Emerging from the terminal at Tribhuvan International Airport and haggling with a cab driver for a ride into center-city Kathmandu, I had little sense of what I was heading for.  

I shared the ride in the tiny Suzuki taxi with a "Kiwi," a fellow traveler/adventurer from New Zealand.  The driver zipped in and out of jams of vehicles, roller coastered us over potholes, swerved around dogs humping in the middle of the road...

Somewhere in there the driver turned to us and imparted, "So very lucky you're here now.  Vejaya Dashami starts in three days."

The Kiwi and I looked at each other perplexed.  We mouthed almost in unison:  "Vay-am dash-whaaat????" 

Dusty streets of Kathmandu.

No traffic signals either!  Free-for-all!  

Traditional Nepalese caps in the Thamel district.

Eventually we were dropped off in the Thamel district, the tourist zone, and the New Zealander and I parted off to our respective lodgings.  Even though the recommendation came off the Internet, my guest house turned out to  be an excellent choice -- clean, reasonable and down a quiet alley away from the madhouse streets of Kathmandu.

The staff not only was friendly and answered my pesky questions with patience, they called me "Mr. James," a title of some respect.  This made me feel like one of the White Rajahas, even though I am your basic budget traveler, to put it mildly.

Staff at guest house. "My boys," as I called to them.

Temple wall with both Buddhist and Hindu symbols.

Corner market (convenience store?).

Nepal is primarily a Hindu country (Buddhists are in the minority) and the main Hindu festival of the year is called Vejaya Dashami, as that cab driver was trying to get through to us.  It spans ten days and features family get-togethers, feasting, gift-giving, drinking, dancing, gambling, and more -- much more, as I was to find out.

Half the country is on the move during this time, it seems, traveling off to relatives, returning to home towns, etc.  Much like our Thanksgiving or Christmas holiday period.

(Gambling is illegal in Nepal, but is allowed during this festival time.  And from what I could see traveling about the country, it is partaken of with gusto then.)

Marigold wreaths to be worn during the festival.

Holy men provide guidance and blessings at the temple squares.

Ring the bell after making a temple offering

A few days later I happened into the old royal city of Bhaktapur, known for its Vejaya Dashami festivities.  

Hundreds of people clad in orange and red gathered at the temple square, red dye on their foreheads, green strands of bamboo behind their ears.  A yearling buffalo was led out in front.  Priests were chanting up a storm.  To the clanging of cymbals and beating of drums, a man in ceremonial dress took up a sword and whacked off the bull's head!

The crowd was locked onto this (except for a few tourists who about passed out) as the spurting blood was caught up into brass goblets and sprinkled about the temple.  The remnants were then placed before various shrines and statues.  The smell of incense, more offerings, this time of bananas, rice, slaughtered chickens...more prayers and chanting.  All in all, quite a show.

Buffalo bull about to be sacrificed.

What's left of him...a few hours later.

Chickens about to meet their fate as well.

I also visited the city of Pokhara, ninety miles to the west of Kathmandu and a center for trekking and mountain climbing in Nepal.  The city sets at the base of the high massif (wall) of the Himalayas and when the weather is clear the mountains are plainly visible.  Sometimes when the optics are right, it seems as if you could reach out and touch them!

My first night there a rainstorm lashed us with fierce winds down where I was at 5,000 ft.  But up at 18,000 feet, two miles plus above us, where a team of climbers was tented up for the night in an attempt to climb Mt. Gurja, it was a different story...

This link describes what happened:  https://news.sky.com/story/nine-climbers-missing-on-nepals-mount-gurja-after-storm-hits-camp-11524889

Rescue attempts were mounted from a nearby airport and the bodies later helicoptered in to there.  Like I say, I was ensconced in the vicinity of this, although it occurred far, far above, up in thin air, where it's almost a different world.  Nonetheless the incident had an impact on many of us.

In the aftermath, prayer flags were hung out and the monks were chanting for days on their behalf.  The smell of incense in memoriam was everywhere.  

Looking toward where nine men died Oct.13.  Prayer flags in foreground.

Remember, eight of the ten highest mountains in the world are in Nepal and any of them, not just the famous Mt. Everest, can turn deadly in a heartbeat!  As the incident on Mt. Gurja shows.

May they rest in peace.

[PART TWO TO FOLLOW NEXT WEEK]