Afternoon tea in a Nepali mountain village
It was late in the afternoon, and we were on our way back home from a short hike to Timu Hill and Durganati Khola in the Makadum area when we stopped for tea in one of the village houses. The patriarch – an old gentleman wearing the typical Nepali hat – apparently acted as a priest as well, so, upon our arrival, we were ceremoniously welcomed with garlands of rhododendron flowers (the national flower of the country) and a very generous tikka on the forehead (which took me a couple of days to fully wash off).
There was excitement in the air, a lot of commotion, and an interaction that was exotic for both sides. The family repeatedly posed for our photos, even a puppy stood willingly in front of our cameras, and it took us a while to finally settle down at a wooden table in the yard. The dogs sniffed our feet with curiosity and then walked away; the puppy kept staring at us with affection; a few goats moved restlessly nearby, and the chicken poked the ground fiercely for a final snack before the end of the day.
The sun was setting behind the mountain line, the curves of the surrounding rice fields provided a familiar and somewhat romantic sense of serenity, and a mild crimson tint reflected on the earth and the whitewashed walls of the house as if a liquid wave of tenderness had been bestowed on land and people alike.
Metallic cups were handed out, and sweet hot tea or fresh lemonade with generous amounts of pepper were served. There, under the protective presence of a village home, embraced by the fertile land, we, a bunch of people that had little in common, sat sipping tea and juice, laughing and exchanging a few words frequently underlined by body language. We didn’t learn much of each other, no fascinating discussions unfolded, and, yet, we all felt content and fulfilled, for, ultimately, humans do not need more than a quiet tea break to connect with each other and become whole again.
Photo credits: © Konstantina Sakellariou
