#momo machine in nepal

[marumarielle]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐃𝐑 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 (𝟎𝟎𝟏)

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ regarding this post of mine, I really just made a compilation for funsies. Also. this is not proofread. I'm just rambling here. Most of these details are things I scripted in and I'm excited to experience them tw: none, just messy grammar here and there

my mcu aesthetic

-I actually don't live in the Avenger's Compound/Tower (depending on the era) -Your girlie here lives in the Sanctum Sanctorum -Wong and Dr Strange are my mentors -I can look at the eclipse directly because I can't get blinded by it -Being in Kamar-Taj isn't actually hot, it's pretty breezy to cold depending on the season. But. it also depends on how thick your clothes are. -ALSO, since Kamar-Taj is in Nepal, YOU JUST KNOWWWW I eat a whole lot of Panipuri and Momo (Wong would buy some for me if he's in a good mood) -I made Mordo plus Nightmare the villian instead of Wanda (HIS VILLAIN ARC WAS ROBBED FROM US GRRR) -DR STRANGE FIOEFCWGIUHVJDOIS -Lolol Cloak loves me -I scripted in a whole new school into the MCU because I'm rich (i'm tired of being broke....) -I created my own superhero clothes (Like, actually handmade. No machines or anything.) -I don't go out to fight crime a lot (NYC has a freakton of heroes already, they can do it themselves LMAO) -My room in Kamar-Taj (yes i have a room despite living in the Sanctum) has a window that overlooks the city because yes. -No kidding, the training it takes to be a full fledged sorcerer is like training to be a Navy Seal but with magic because WHAT THE HELL THESE SPELLS ARE DIFFICULT. AND I GOTTA LEARN COMBAT TOO???? -Ofc I gotta be friends with Peter Parker. Oh! And Aunt May loves me -And ofc I'm overpowered -Dr Strange as a mentor is pretty nerve wracking at times -He hates people who are late (ahem.... me) -But he is patient. Just strict. -He'd do his rounds around Kamar-Taj to make sure there aren't lingering or loitering students -Someone give this man a break, he's out there in the multiverse doing the most -Idk where tf this guy places his bluetooth or if it's magic because wherever you are in the Sanctum you could hear his playlist (it can go to those 80s rock to classical music. But, I'm trying to get him to like Laufey---)

Dear God, I did all of this in one sitting.... BUT I WANNA DO IT AGAINN!

[laufire]

[Caption: the original post includes a screenshot of two tweets. The first one, by Will Wilkinson (with a verified account) says “Why is it ‘kill baby Hitler’ rather than ‘make Hitler’s momo fall in love with YOU’ or ‘kidnap Hitler’s grandpa and strand him in Nepal just before he meets Hitler’s grandma’? People lacking in imagination should not have time machines.” The second one, by Brandy Jensen, says “’I’d simply fuck Hitler’s mom’ is honestly a take I didn’t see coming but that’s on me.”]

[nitewrighter]

Now i cant wait to see Genji confense to Zenyatta about overwatch and Angela !

Gooooddd this has been languishing in my drafts since... god I don’t want to think about it. Forever. But tonight I get it out!!

-----

Steam puffed up over the food stand, the warmth in the air intermingling with the crackling sound of fryers. Genji watched as the Omnic vendor skillfully scooped several chicken momos up from the fryers and set them in a paper-lined cardboard tray, holding it out to him. Even well into the night, Kolkata was thrumming, vibrant, noisy and alive--Delivery drones buzzed overhead, hover-mopeds weaved between packed buses, hovercars honked their horns, and omnics in Shambali garb were attempting to start up conversations with irritated Vishkar representatives on the sidewalks. Zenyatta watched all the bustle with his usual patience-with-underlying-shrewdness. They had been traveling together for nearly a month now, but Zenyatta had been called back to the Shambali monastery in Nepal earlier than he would have liked and, as he explained it, Kolkata was the easiest place for them to drag their feet without Zenyatta’s brother sending more reminders their way. Zenyatta didn’t seem particularly resentful of Mondatta, but there was a definite hesitance in his return to Nepal that spoke to some complexities in his and Mondatta’s relationship.

They were able to find an isolated enough alley for Genji to keep his hood up and head down as he quickly stuffed down his dinner before clicking his faceplate back on and heading back out to the main street. Genji watched as a bright blue hovertram streamed by, so packed there were a handful of humans and omnics virtually hanging off it as they rejoined the crowd on the street. The press of human and omnic bodies here was different than Numbani--with Numbani there seemed to be a careful cultivation of the ‘City of Harmony’ image, with clean-scrubbed streets and gleaming buildings, and carefully outlined street and foot traffic for optimum efficiency, but here felt closer to reality--the clamor of voices and the natural messiness of shared spaces, the streaming of bodies moving in different directions, pooling and spiraling around each other like water. He didn’t feel like he stood out here--the crowd was so mixed between humans and omnics that the eye glazed right past him. He and Zenyatta fell behind a group of pilgrims, a mix of about two thirds omnic and one third humans. Genji studied the organics. He recognized the look of some of them--those searching for truth and identity, like he had been, like he still was. They were dressed in bright colors and their conversations were peppered with aphorisms from all the Shambali’s best-selling books and Mondatta’s holovid speeches. At least one of them had dabbed on a bit too much patchouli oil. Genji gave a glance back at Zenyatta.

“So what is your hesitance in returning, Master?” asked Genji, looking back at the group ahead of them. He had only been calling Zenyatta ‘Master’ for a little over two weeks now, but it felt easy. Felt natural.

“The journey is just as important as the destination, my student,” said Zenyatta as they walked.

Genji gave him a slight, ‘Come on’ head tilt, and Zenyatta tented his fingers, composing his thoughts.

“As machines, the Shambali have been able to adapt our--their message, to human agendas. And this is well and good--there is no reason why the Shambali’s message of peace should be incompatible with already present human social constructs.”

“I see...” said Genji, a little wary that Zenyatta was going to launch into another pondering monologue where the words ‘Pedagogy’ and ‘commercialization’ swam in and out and Zenyatta would ultimately end with a hand wave and ‘But I suppose it depends on the individual,’ or something like that.

“Omnics do not need to sleep, so the Shambali can travel as much as they need--But I do have concerns about treating our ideals as a machinated export when ultimately we strive for unity between the organic and the--” Zenyatta cut himself off and perked up at the odd ripple that seemed to be going through the crowd.

“Master?” said Genji. He looked around the crowd, trying to see what Zenyatta was seeing. People were stopping mid-step and pulling out their phones, some bumping into each other but barely glancing up. Couples and groups that were walking together stopped and exchanged concerned murmurs in Bengali and Hindu and english. Genji suddenly felt a seed of anxiety growing and spreading from the pit of his stomach, phantom limb pain prickling throughout all of his prosthetics. Something was wrong. Something felt wrong. The group of pilgrims had all but dropped to a standstill, several of them crowding around a human’s phone. She had her hand over her mouth. Two or three of the pilgrims were speaking English.

“The Headquarters?”

“It couldn’t be an aerial attack could it?”

“Do they know who did it?”

“God I hope it wasn’t Null Sector... If Omnics get blamed for this--”

“What about Talon?”

“They beat Talon--”

“They beat Doomfist. Doomfist isn’t all of Talon.”

That prickling anxiety that manifested as phantom limb pain now was rushing hot along the skin of his neck and cybernetic jaw as he looked around. His armor felt claustrophobic around him but his head was jerking around this way and that, looking desperately now. Headquarters? Talon? Newsfeed. He had to find a newsfeed.

“Genji...” Zenyatta said his name as if trying to pull him back to the present, but this fear was the present, it was pressing in on him like the crowd. His head swiveled to see people accumulating around a pawn shop window where multiple holoscreen projectors of various ages were displayed. He rushed through, ninja training guiding his feet and the angle of his shoulders, sliding through the crowd like a knife until he reached the front of it. The holoscreens of the shop window were displaying the news in numerous channels and Genji’s eyes fixed on the familiar face of the news reporter Olympia Shaw. The television was muted, of course, but there was captioning. Before his brain could make out the words, his eyes fell on a helicopter or drone shot hovering over a massive building semi-obscured by multiple columns of smoke.  The complex cluster of plaftorms at the building’s western side were blackened. There was a recognizable patch of green at the building’s heart--a courtyard, that soon was obscured by smoke as the wind shifted.

Zurich. Zurich Headquarters.

The explosions took place only minutes apart. Both Strike Commander Morrison and Reyes were in the building when the explosions occurred--- Olympia Shaw’s mouth moved along soundlessly to the captioning on the screen. Something chilled in Genji’s stomach. Zurich headquarters itself had been many things over the years with Overwatch, during his long stints in physical therapy and during Blackwatch’s suspension, it had felt like a prison-like box, but there were a few nights...

Eyewitnesses have told Atlas News that Doctor Angela Ziegler, formerly known as the Overwatch agent ‘Mercy,’ who was reportedly resigning from Overwatch, is apparently inside the headquarters attempting to rescue personnel. There has been no--

Genji suddenly had the physical sensation of dropping rapidly through a dark, cold space. 

He wasn’t there. She was in trouble and he wasn’t there.

Genji...

The tone of her voice was distant. His entire body tensed as the memory of late nights in the lab arose. He remembered her snorting laugh in the small hours of the morning, her shoes kicked off and her legs tucked close to herself in her swivel chair. 

Genji--!

He remembered their elbows interlocked in Havana, the burn of rum flushing across her nose and cheekbones and shining in her eyes. 

Genji?!

He remembered her stooping over him, wet lab coat hanging off of her, her glasses fogged with the steam of the therapy pool. 

“GENJI!” Zenyatta was gripping both his shoulders and he found himself standing in that crowded street in Kolkata, the televisions still glowing behind him. 

“I’m okay,” Genji said, “This is fine--it’s not fine--I’m going to fix it--I just need to go--”

“Go--?” Zenyatta started.

“I need to go,” Genji was breaking away from Zenyatta, already walking. He would have broken into a sprint if it weren’t so crowded. “I need to go--She can’t--I left her but I can---” Breath didn’t seem to be coming to form the words. Maybe if he just kept walking...

“Genji, you’re having a panic attack,” said Zenyatta.

“I don’t get panic attacks!” Genji snapped.

But he did get panic attacks--he just thought he left them behind in Zurich. Burning Zurich. Burning Zurich where Angela was and she was in trouble and he wasn’t there and he hadn’t even said goodbye when he left like the fucking heartless self-absorbed piece of shit he always knew he was. He was still talking. He wasn’t sure if he was talking because it kept the shortness of breath away as he moved but Zenyatta was floating after him as closely as he could in the crowd.

Zenyatta suddenly seized Genji’s shoulders again. “Genji!” he spoke clearly and a small orb of harmony suddenly alighted next to him.

“You have to let me--” Genji felt his own hands gripping Zenyatta’s wrists. He had fought Null sector Omnics before. He wondered how much physical force he needed to get Zenyatta off of him but Zenyatta’s fingers tightened into his shoulders with a furious grip.

“YOU. CAN’T. CONTROL THIS.” Zenyatta’s voice was deeper than usual, startlingly commanding. Enough to shock Genji into a space of neutral confusion.

“Wh--but...” Genji’s breath was still short.

“...you can’t control this,” Zenyatta’s grip on his shoulders loosened, “It is not your fault you can’t control this. It does not make you a bad person that you can’t control this. It is an event happening 7,430 kilometers away, and you can’t control it. It doesn’t mean that it is irrational that it is affecting you deeply. It doesn’t mean that it is nonsensical that it is hurting you deeply. But the only thing you can control, right now, is your own reaction. Can you even breathe right now, Genji?” 

“I--I--”

“Start with that. Start with breathing.”

The respirators of Genji’s cybernetics were audible as he drew in a breath.

“Again,” said Zenyatta.

Genji drew in another breath, held it for the same amount of time as it took to draw it in, exhaled with that same slowness. Drew in another, held it, exhaled. 

“You are here. You are in Kolkata. There is cement beneath your feet. There are green and growing things springing up from the cracks in the cement--” Zenyatta’s voice was short, but not unkind.

“But Zurich--” Genji started.

“You are not there. You are here. And you are breathing.”

Genji consciously drew in another breath. “But I have to--”

“We are still learning what is happening over there,” said Zenyatta, “How long do you think it will take you to get there?”

“I--I don’t know...”

Zenyatta paused, calculations running through that Omnic mind. “The fastest flying vehicle available would get you there in four hours, but you do not have the resources for that. Commercially... it would take at least 8 hours. What do you think the situation will look like in 8 hours? 6, even?”

Genji wasn’t really sure what to say to that. The consciousness of his own breath seemed to slow things down though.

“You don’t know that either,” said Zenyatta, answering the question for him, “...we’re going to get away from the crowds and find somewhere to sit down.”

“I can’t do nothing...” Genji said quietly, as Zenyatta was already leading him away.

“I know. It is a very admirable trait,” said Zenyatta, “But you are doing this.”

“Which is nothing!”

“It’s not nothing. Right now, there are only two people you can help--”

“Two--?”

“You can help yourself, or you can help me,” said Zenyatta.

“Help you??”

“Help me help you.”

Genji was quiet for a few seconds but it was more of an incredulous processing of Zenyatta’s words than anything.

“I think we should walk,” said Zenyatta, “Will you walk with me?”

Genji just dumbly nodded and let Zenyatta lead him away. They walked several city blocks in relative slience, Genji trying to return to his breath. 

“This world... it can be full of... unbearable cruelties. All we know can be wrenched out from underneath us in only a few moments,” Zenyatta spoke as they walked, “I cannot pretend to know how to fix it. I suppose... that is why I left the Shambali. I cannot stand to be around those who will happily claim they can fix your problems when they don’t actually know that it will. I... am utterly petrified of disappointing people... all the time. So I disappointed the people who meant more to me than anything, and now I am here with you. Hope is one of the most painful and terrifying things you can let into your life. It is all I can do to try and instill hope in other people as a resilient and living thing. You call me master when I am constantly questioning whether I am worthy of such an address.”

“Are... are you all right?” Genji’s voice was quiet.

“No,” said Zenyatta, plainly, “And neither are you.”

A long silence passed between them as they kept walking. The world seemed too upended to call the motion comforting, yet at the same time, staying still would have made things feel like they were curling and collapsing all around them. Movement as grounding seemed like an oxymoron, and yet that was the space Genji and Zenyatta found themselves in. They were in a more residential area now, cigarette, weed, and hashish smoke sinking down on them from the balconies above.

“When you were watching that newscast, you kept saying things like, ‘I left her.’ Back when we were in the Banu Tufayl tribe’s encampment, you said there was someone who made you believe in your work... someone who you clung to like a ship’s mast in a storm,” Zenyatta said after a while, “Is she in Zurich?”

“Yes,” the word came out of Genji more choked than he intended, his words felt tight, “I can’t leave her--she saved me, so I have to--I have to...” Genji pressed his fingers to his forehead plate.

Zenyatta tented his fingers thoughtfully. “It has been said, one of our greatest means of dealing with grief, is confronting the reality that we may lose the ones we love. Confronting the eventuality of that loss.”

“I can’t do it now--” Genji said , his voice tight, “I can’t-- I didn’t even say goodbye to her... I wasn’t sure if I could say goodbye---”

“...still reeling from the Zurich attacks---” a crackly voice sounded overhead and Genji stopped in his tracks, his head jutting upward. 

“Genji?” said Zenyatta.

“You there! With the radio!” Genji shouted at one of the apartment balconies overhead. A portly middle-aged man with a receding hairline leaned out over the balcony.

“Can you turn it up?” Genji called.

The man shrugged and disappeared back behind the balcony.

“Genji,” Zenyatta spoke gently, “I’m not sure if harassing random people can really--”

The crackle of the radio audibly got louder.

“--Angela Ziegler is unconscious but stable at Zurich hospital--” the radio sounded. 

A shuddering breath of relief fell out of Genji. “She’s... she’s alive,” he said, looking at Zenyatta. 

Zenyatta gave a nod and a noise that was midway between laugh and sob fell out of Genji.

“As I said,” said Zenyatta, “There is much we can’t control but--” 

Zenyatta was cut off as Genji suddenly caught him in a tight hug, his cybernetically armored shoulders shuddering with those not-laugh, not-sob sounds. “She’s alive... she’s alive,” he kept saying.

Zenyatta patted his shoulder with some unsureness, “And so are you.”

[emma-commonlanguages]

On my own in Nepal: 06.01-06.02

Dhundup took a while to emerge from the shower, but I saw him briefly at breakfast the next morning, before he left for school. I wondered if it would be awkward, but it was like any other morning, perhaps with an extra ocular glint. I lingered around the house in the morning. These were some of the hardest moments for me—the lingering, the in-betweens, waiting to go—feeling like I couldn’t go where I wanted to go on my own, though I probably could. Sometimes I found myself waiting for Dhundup to wake up or come home. These were my least favorite because they made me feel ashamed, waiting for a man. I wanted to be busy with my travels.

I was due to go to Patan that afternoon, where I’d booked a chic apartment in an old Newari building to stay for the next two nights. At lunch before I left, Dawa and Hiumaya told me to be safe, as a white woman on my own.

“You are very pretty,” Dawa told me in that daunting way my father repeatedly had before I left. Over the last few weeks I’d come into a new relationship with beauty and the bits of it I’d received, warned of its dupes and misgivings, without ever feeling sorry for myself.

“Would it be alright to return to my hotel from dinner in the dark… around 7, 8pm?” I asked.

“Yes, of course,” Dawa said.

He told me a story about a Scandinavian girl who stayed with them and came home from Thamel one night with a man who Dawa knew to be a gangster. Dawa warned her, but she didn’t have ears for it. She left to stay with him and days later when caught alone with him and 7 other men, she ran for the nearest hospital, fearing for her life. The hospital called Dawa, her one contact in Nepal.

We concluded a series of bad decisions led the Scandinavian girl to this situation.

“Don’t be afraid, just be aware,” Dawa said.

The conversation—almost an exact replica of the one I had with my own parents before leaving the States, except wiser—made me feel caught in the embrace of the closest thing to kin we can choose for ourselves 8,000 miles from the family I’d been born into.

Before I’d left for Nepal a friend had jokingly referred to Patan as ‘the Brooklyn of Kathmandu,’ and driving in I thought this must be Kathmandu’s own flavor of hip, edging antique and modern. I checked into the apartment I’d booked and relished in all the space I had to myself—dark wood and terracotta floors, local made rattan and reclaimed wood furniture, kilim rugs, and moderately tasteful throw pillows, a full kitchen I wouldn’t use, and a laundry machine I would.

I ate in the cafe at, I think what must be, the fanciest hotel in Patan. The chicken momos they served me were raw and the diarrhea I already had, continued. Ever since I started eating outside Hiumaya’s homegrown, organic, vegetarian kitchen, my stomachs been in knots, and I’ll forever associate the streets of Patan with a slow., guttural spin cycle.

The following day I wandered into the Durbar (Main) Square of Patan, visiting the museum, where I was most fascinated by the exhibits on Hindu Tantrism.

Lying dormant at the lowermost chakra is Kundalini Shakti, ‘coiled-up female energy,’ often represented as a serpent… By arousing and elevating her through the chakras to unite with Shiva, the tantric adept transcends his or her own ego and merges with cosmic consciousness… For most of humanity she will lie there, dormant and unknown. Only the skilled adept will arouse and control her.

I am not naive to the ways in which new-age tranrism has run awry, but I am suspicious of the ways in which religion has suppressed sensuality, the opportunity to release the divine within us. This unleashing seems to me like the frontier deepened spirituality.

From there, I roamed the alleyways, popping into artisan shops, stocking hammered copper and brass butter lamps, singing bowls, jewels, and linens, stopping at a kiosk for tea. I ate ramen for dinner at a far better Japanese restaurant that evening. The rest of my time in Patan was spent like this, enjoying my independence to roam.

[show-me-the-world-please-blog]

After the chaos of India, my time in Nepal was like a breath of fresh air. Rolling hills, dense jungle, clean air and a sense of tranquility that pervaded every village, town and city we visited – it was hard to believe that two countries so geographically close and with so much shared history could be so different.

If I could pick one moment that encapsulated my experience of Nepal it would have to be sitting in the lush gardens of Lumbini – the birthplace of Buddha – a few hours after crossing the Indian/Nepalese border.  I don’t consider myself a particularly religious or spiritual person but lying in the grass, basking in sunlight and watching hundreds of pray flags ripple in the warm summer breeze, you can’t help but feel a sense of connection with the world around you. It was a moment I didn’t want to end and was delighted to find that peaceful energy persist for the duration of my travels around Nepal.

After our restorative encounter with Buddha’s hometown, we hopped on a coach and headed off into the hills of Nepal to the village of Barauli; a tiny Tharu community in the heart of the Chitwan National Park. For the past few years, the townspeople of Barauli have been running a ‘community homestay’ for travellers wanting an authentic taste of life in a Nepalese village: no hotels, no shops, no wifi and, we soon discovered, no air conditioning. The villagers didn’t have much but none-the-less we were treated like kings: folk dances, traditional Nepali feasts, a sunset bike ride on the riverbank and an afternoon safari ride with a rather unexpected ending (I’ve never been charged by a rhino before but it’s certainly not something I’m going to forget in a hurry!).

Pokhara, the next destination on our itinerary, offered a very different experience to the one we had in the depths of the Chitwan jungle. While still beautiful and lush, as the ‘trekking capital of Nepal’ it was heavily populated by tourists either about to embark on one of Nepal’s famous mountain treks or those who had just returned. Pokhara catered a lot more for Western tastes than anywhere we’d been before, both in India and Nepal, and having spent the past two weeks immersed in such a different culture, being reunited with brunch cafes and souvenir shops populated by European faces felt so alien. While it was nice to be reunited with air-conditioning (and a washing machine), part of me couldn’t help but breath a sigh of relief when a friend and I decided to escape the Western sensibilities of the city centre and explore a bit further afield.

Souvenir shopping and sipping coffee in a cute cafe may sound like a nice way to spend an afternoon, but exploring a few locals’ markets, hiking up to the hillside temple, getting hopelessly lost in the outskirts of the city and hitchhiking back to the city centre on the back of a truck is far more my style. (Thank you so much to the boys kind enough to give us a lift back to our hotel – you were absolute lifesavers!)

Aside from our exploratory escapades, Pokhara will always hold a special place in my heart as the location of my first Nepali musical debut. On our last night in Pokhara, our tour guide – who had overheard me jamming with my ukulele in a hotel lobby a few days before – managed to pull some strings at a restaurant co-owned by a friend of his to get me a slot on stage with their resident band for a couple of numbers. If you look ‘surreal’ up in the dictionary, you’ll probably find a little picture of my singing ‘Riptide’ with a bunch of Nepali musicians I’ve never met before in a restaurant in the heart of Pokhara.

Mildly terrifying? Obviously. Worth it? Without a doubt.

The final stop on our Nepali adventure was, of course, Kathmandu.

After a rather horrendous 11-hour bus journey down the winding dirt tracks of the Nepali countryside, we arrived in the nation’s capital for the final day of the organised tour. We began with an eye-opening few hours at SASANE: a local womens’ hospice set up to support girls who’ve escaped the trafficking trade. SASANE was set up with the aim of providing support, educational and vocational opportunities to trafficking survivors. They provided us with a traditional meal, cooked by some of the girls at the hospice who later showed us how to make momo, and gave us a spine-chilling presentation about the nature of the human trafficking crisis currently facing Nepal.

The group then ventured into Thamel – the tourist centre of Kathmandu – for one final evening together before we each headed our separate ways. After a lovely few hours immersing ourselves in the hustle and bustle of the heart of Kathmandu, we sat own for our last meal – trading stories, sharing memories and all making promises to meet up in the future –  before returning to our respective hotels for our first night as individuals rather than a collective whole.

And so ends the first part of my Nepali adventure. The tour may have ended but the adventures were only just beginning – stayed tuned for more!

  The Trip of Lifetime: Nepal (part 1) After the chaos of India, my time in Nepal was like a breath of fresh air. Rolling hills, dense jungle, clean air and a sense of tranquility that pervaded every village, town and city we visited - it was hard to believe that two countries so geographically close and with so much shared history could be so different.

[borrowedbackpack]

Trekking Days 5 and 6: Tengboche - Pangboche - Pheriche and Acclimatization Day in Pheriche

Hello everyone! Before we get into the trekking content, I would like to announce that I have finally made it back home after idk how many hours of flying/airports. I am very pleased to be back in a nice, clean, not hot environment. Also this means that I have officially survived Nepal. I think I should get a commemorative t-shirt or something.

ANYWAYS: From the paper blog: Today took a turn for the horrible. It started out quite pleasantly, with monks and apple pancakes. In the morning we went to the Tengboche monastary, which is right across from the lodge we stayed at. They have visiting hours where you can just go sit in their main room and listen to them chant and occasionally play instruments and bang a gong. It’s quite a nice time actually. We began walking, stopping to pet many animals and then continuing on down to Pangboche (only 2 hours of walking and 70m altitude gain, easy stuff). On the way out of Tengboche, I had to make a long stop in the meadow to pet the horses, cows, and dogs. There were a bunch of people standing on the roof of the lodge yelling “Pangboche! That way! Down the trail!” because they thought we were confused and lost already.

“Thank you! We know! She just wants to pet the animals before we leave!” yelled Christopher.

“Ah! Okay! No problem!” they called back.

The beautiful meadow in Tengboche. The mountain on the far far left is Everest/Sagarmatha. This was probably the best view we had of it throughout the whole trek. Apparently it’s easier to see from the Tibetan side; Lhotse blocks it on the Nepali side I believe.

When we arrived, however, everything in Pangboche was closed. So that sucked. And also caused me to kind of give up in my brain because I was very much ready to have a short walking day after yesterday’s long walking day. The common route is to go from Tengboche – Pheriche, however we decided to stop in Pangboche because we wanted to do a side trip to Ama Dablam Base Camp the following day. Anyways, we continued on towards Pheriche and soon saw the Austrians in the distance. I picked up the pace a lot and zoomed past them, which gave me the surge of heck ya I needed to continue. But then it started to rain/snow and I got a surge of heck no (I wrote a sad face here). Things went downhill from there (but also uphill…geographically speaking). It rained and rained and fogged and fogged and fogged. Finally we reached a town. Except it was not The Town. It was Dingboche. This would’ve been fine if it wasn’t the off season, but it is, and so everything was closed. So we had to accept we’d made a wrong turn (kind of…I sat down on the ground and cried a lil bit because fuck the Himalayas). Sadly, there was nothing else to do but turn around and go back the way we came, into the rain/fog/wind and in search of shelter and tea. So down the mountain we went. Then up. Then down. Then up up up. And down down down across a river, past some doggos, and into Pheriche. We ended up at a lodge that kind of sucked, but at least it was open. Also the people were very nice and the pancakes were good. And the yak dung fire was warm. So what more could you want, really?

Day 6:

Rest day. We are bored. So we’ve written some poems. And we will probably write more.

We had to stay in Pheriche for two nights so we could adjust to the altitude. Sadly, Pheriche is basically a field of rocks, so there isn’t much to do, less so in the offseason. The most exciting part was in the morning when a bunch of helicopters landed right outside our lodge. Hence all the poems. They’re probably not that funny if your brain has an appropriate amount of oxygen, but please enjoy.

New hotel lodgings

Acceptable toilet

Owner is not impressed

His vacation; we spoil it

White people demanding

Pancakes and tea

And a suitable place

To expel our pee

Reading a book

The wind howls outside

The wifi password

They continue to hide

High above the clouds

Towers Ama Dablam

But all I want

Is some toast with jam

-A.S. 2019

This poem was inspired by our move from the sucky lodge with unacceptable toilets to the lodge across the road (trail). The lodge across the road was beautiful, probably the nicest we saw on the trek, and had some of the best food on the trek, but the owner was not impressed with our presence at all.

We found wifi!

Or so we thought

But understand the owner

We can not

So we sit and we wonder

Is Jen now in mourning?

Will she send a helicopter

To find our bodies in the morning?

But maybe the Czech’s guide

Can join the conversation

And connect us to the wifi

To bring Jen some elation

-C.P. 2019

A Czech couple showed up with a very nice guide. The very nice guide explained that the wifi doesn’t work when it’s cloudy. So the wifi never works.

We walked too far one day

But found a place to stay

The toilets aren’t nice

But at least there aren’t any mice

3/5 stars

is what the internet will say

-C.P. 2019

espresso machine, espresso machine

come back to life

instant coffee

brings so much strife

tired body

requires caffeine

and the smooth bold taste

of the espresso bean

-A.S. 2019

This poem was inspired by all of the sleeping espresso machines along the trail. Every lodge/restaurant/café has a huge sign that says Red Cherry or Lavazza (Italy’s favourite espresso) or Illy to tempt all the Euros that trek EBC every year, but they all had blankets over them for the offseason. I would gaze longingly at the espresso menu and the incapacitated espresso machine at every lodge. It was tough to see those guys in such a state. Luckily, from great pain comes great art.

Rest Day Report:

·      we moved hotels to one with a nicer toilet and a large doggo population. One even came into the dining room for a hug J I think he mostly wanted a momo. But he accepted a hug anyways. Also, best momos ever.

My favourite trekking dog.

·      A Czech couple showed up with their guide. The dude expressed disbelief that we were guideless and porterless. Then he started saying to his guide that this will be his “last hike”. Same dude.

·      Also we met a Spanish guy on his way down from Base Camp. He was having a rough go:

o   Me: “How was the trek?”

o   Spanish guy: “I need a hospital! I am so tired!”

o   Me “oh. They’re all closed”*

o   *there’s a medical centre for trekkers and Sherpas in Pheriche but it closes in the off-season.

o   Spanish guy: “yes! All closed! Terrible sleep! Can’t breathe! And no helicopters can land!”

o   Me: “hm” (he seemed okay to me. He was also using a lot of oxygen yelling).

Morning doggo cuddle.

Breakfast guest. 

Yeah so basically I only took pictures of dogs. There’s literally hundreds more where that come from if anyone is interested. 

[nepalfoodtimes-blog]

『Ting Momo』 I didn’t know Ting momo, I thought that there 4 types of Momo, 1. Steamed 2. Half-Fried 3. Fried 4. With Soup. If you know more about Momo, please teach me by the comment. ◯●◯●◯●◯●◯●◯● Extra charge▶︎SC10%:○/VAT13%:○ Rating▶︎4.3/5.0 Ambience rating▶︎4.1/5.0 Wi-Fi▶︎○ Pos machine▶︎○ Opening hour▶︎Hotel hour Parking▶︎Bike:×/Car:× ◯●◯●◯●◯●◯●◯● #nepalfoodtimes #nepalfood #nepallife #nepallove #nepallocal #nepallover #nepaljapan #nepal_love #nepaltour #kathmandufood #kathmandufoodies #kathmandulife #kathmandu #nepal #népal #nepalifood #nepaltrip #nepaltravel #nepaltourism #kathmandudiaries #kathmandunepal #nepali_instagrammers #nepalgram #prayfornepal #nepaldiaries #nepaladventure #nepalisbeautiful #nepaliloveyou #nepali #nepaliblogger (at Hotel Utse)

[nepalfoodtimes-blog]

『FRIED MOMO』 Crispppyyyyy!!!! Small Star Fast Food Restaurant Nityanath Marg, Kathmandu 44600 01-4227685 https://goo.gl/maps/JwmMLjtFTG22 ◯●◯●◯●◯●◯●◯● Extra charge▶︎SC10%:×/VAT13%:× Rating▶︎3.7/5.0 Ambience rating▶︎2.5/5.0 Wi-Fi▶︎× Pos machine▶︎× Opening hour▶︎9:00-21:00 Parking▶︎Bike:×/Car:× ◯●◯●◯●◯●◯●◯● サックサクの食感。普通のモモを食べたら、フライモモにも挑戦しよう。 #nepalfoodtimes #nepalfood #nepallife #nepallove #nepallocal #nepallover #nepaljapan #nepal_love #nepaltour #kathmandufood #kathmandufoodies #kathmandulife #kathmandu #nepal #népal #nepalifood #nepaltrip #nepaltravel #nepaltourism #kathmandudiaries #kathmandunepal #nepali_instagrammers #nepalgram #prayfornepal #nepaldiaries #nepaladventure #nepalisbeautiful #nepaliloveyou #nepali #nepaliblogger (at Thamel)

[nepalfoodtimes-blog]

『Khuwa Momo』 Nice desert momo. You must try it. ◯●◯●◯●◯●◯●◯● Extra charge▶︎SC10%:×/VAT13%:× Rating▶︎3.8/5.0 Ambience rating▶︎3.7/5.0 Wi-Fi▶︎× Pos machine▶︎× Opening hour▶︎11:00-20:00 Parking▶︎Bike:○/Car:○ ◯●◯●◯●◯●◯●◯● #nepalfoodtimes #nepalfood #nepallife #nepallove #nepallocal #nepallover #nepaljapan #nepal_love #nepaltour #kathmandufood #kathmandufoodies #kathmandulife #kathmandu #nepal #népal #nepalifood #nepaltrip #nepaltravel #nepaltourism #kathmandudiaries #kathmandunepal #nepali_instagrammers #nepalgram #prayfornepal #nepaldiaries #nepaladventure #nepalisbeautiful #nepaliloveyou #nepali #nepaliblogger (Momo Queen)

[nepalfoodtimes-blog]

『Veggie MOMO』 ◯●◯●◯●◯●◯●◯● Extra charge▶︎SC10%:○/VAT13%:○ Rating▶︎4.0/5.0 Ambience rating▶︎4.3/5.0 Wi-Fi▶︎○ Pos machine▶︎○ Opening hour▶︎7:00-23:00 Parking▶︎Bike:×/Car:× ◯●◯●◯●◯●◯●◯● #nepalfoodtimes #vegetarianfoods #vegetarianfoodlover #vegetarianfoodie #nepalfood #nepallife #nepallove #nepallocal #nepallover #nepaljapan #nepal_love #nepaltour #kathmandufood #kathmandufoodies #kathmandulife #kathmandu #nepal #ネパールフードタイムズ #ベジタリアン料理 #ベジタリアンカフェ #ベジタリアンランチ #ベジタリアンメニュー #ネパール旅行 #ネパール料理店 #ネパール生活 #カトマンズ #ネパール (at New Orleans Cafe Kathmandu)

[nepalfoodtimes-blog]

『Italian MOMO』(300Rs)@Barista, Lazimpat ◯●◯●◯●◯●◯●◯● Extra charge▶︎SC10%:○/VAT13%:○ Rating▶︎3.5/5.0 Ambience rating▶︎4.2/5.0 Wi-Fi▶︎○ Pos machine▶︎○ Opening hour▶︎7:30-21:00 Parking▶︎Bike:○/Car:○ ◯●◯●◯●◯●◯●◯● #nepalfoodtimes #nepalfood #nepallife #nepallove #nepallocal #nepallover #nepaljapan #nepal_love #nepaltour #kathmandufood #kathmandufoodies #kathmandulife #kathmandu #nepal #ネパールフードタイムズ #ネパール旅行 #ネパール料理店 #ネパール生活 #カトマンズ #ネパール (at Barista Lavazza Nepal)

[nepalfoodtimes-blog]

『Veggie MOMO』@Places Restaurant, Thamel Entrance to the new world of MOMO. Beautiful green steamed MOMO has a unique taste. Can you imagine What the red one are between MOMO. It’s not a carrots. It’s PAPAYA & WATERMELON. ANOTHER WORLD for me☺︎ ◯●◯●◯●◯●◯●◯● Extra charge▶︎SC10%:○/VAT13%:× Rating▶︎3.9/5.0 Ambience rating▶︎4.5/5.0 Wi-Fi▶︎○ Pos machine▶︎× Opening hour▶︎9:00-23:00 Parking▶︎Bike:×/Car:× ◯●◯●◯●◯●◯●◯● 美しいグリーンモモが、新たなモモワールドに誘う。グリーンのコントラストの赤いパパイヤとスイカを口直しに。独特なモモの世界がそこにはあった。 #nepalfoodtimes #veganfoodlover #vegetariancafe #nepalfood #nepallife #nepallove #nepallocal #nepallover #nepaljapan #nepal_love #nepaltour #kathmandufood #kathmandufoodies #kathmandulife #kathmandu #nepal #ネパールフードタイムズ #ビーガン料理 #ビーガンカフェ #ビーガンランチ #ベジタリアン料理 #ベジタリアンカフェ #ベジタリアンランチ #ベジタリアンメニュー #ネパール旅行 #ネパール料理店 #ネパール生活 #カトマンズ #ネパール (at Places Restaurant & Bar)

[nepalfoodtimes-blog]

『Buff MOMO』@Thakali Bancha Ghar, Thamel Here MOMO has two kinds of buff meat and chicken. Buff meat is common in Nepal and it is best to eat. The MOMO here is like a dumplings shape, this form is said to be Tibetan style. On the other hand, the round shape called the Newali style. The size is large, and the meat juice is trapped inside. It is the best to eat with a special sauce in the middle. ◯●◯●◯●◯●◯●◯● Extra charge▶︎SC10%:○/VAT13%:○ Rating▶︎3.9/5.0 Ambience rating▶︎3.5/5.0 Wi-Fi▶︎○ Pos machine▶︎○ Opening hour▶︎○ Parking▶︎Bike:×/Car:× ◯●◯●◯●◯●◯●◯● ここのモモはバフ肉とチキンの2種がある。ネパールではバフ肉が一般的であり、最もよ��食べられる。ここのモモは形が日本の餃子のようで、この形はチベット式と言われる。小籠包のように丸い形は、ネワール式と言われる。 大きさは普通より大きめで、具沢山でぷっくりとしており、中に肉汁が閉じ込められている。真ん中にある特別なソースをつけて食べるのが1番美味しい。 #nepalfoodtimes #nepalfood #nepallife #nepallove #nepallocal #nepallover #nepaljapan #nepal_love #nepaltour #kathmandufood #kathmandufoodies #kathmandulife #kathmandu #nepal #ネパールフードタイムズ #ネパール旅行 #ネパール料理店 #ネパール生活 #カトマンズ #ネパール (at Thakali Bhancha Ghar)