TONGBA
a most refined way of drinking
its taken me a while
over fifteen years
to realise how Tongba is a very sophisticated form of drinking
and this slowness stems chiefly from the first time i found it
in a very low-rent bar-resto in Kathmandu
which had the specific ambience of a dodgy low-rent boozer in London or Glasgow
where everyone has been drinking all day
…
while the waiter was a very drunk ten year old boy in a dress
...
so its Tongba
peculiar to Nepal and, apparently, parts of North-East India
and, that first Kathmandu time, everyone’s steamingly hammered
yet seems to be drinking what looks like clean soil
from a cylindrical wooden pot
so we point quizzically to a pot
and some tables of Nepali locals say “Tongba, Tongba”
so we order Tongba
and it appears, soil-ish in a pot
where the boy then pours
hot but not-boiling water
from a large plastic jug
into the pot
and there’s a straw
so you suck on it
and it tastes more like Sake than anything else
definitely rice-based
and only later do we find out its fermented rice millet
while, when you’ve soonish sucked it dry,
they pour more hot water in
and then repeat a third
and fourth
and even fifth or sixth time
where the first time is strongish
the second time is stronger
and then it gets progressively weaker
which, if you consider it
is a good way of drinking
that it gets weaker with time
where this whole process might take you three hours
so it takes a certain commitment
and you will likely be a stretch tiddly after the fifth time
though you don’t have to finish of course, but hey, that’s the ritual
…
while its a social thing
because who wants to sit drinking alcohol by themselves for three hours in one spot?
...
so i hunted out Tongba here in Sedi
and me and David from Stroud
studying politics at SOAS in London
we head for the up-market East Nepali resto
to find that there
Tongba comes in a nice lidded wooden pot
with a special straw
[see photo]
and this all has a certain elegance
class
...
while i’ve never heard of it anywhere else
yet, internetting, it seems it is not unknown in London
...
…
three hours later we teeter totter tiddle off
and i ain’t seen David since
...
...
...
in other news
speaking of pouring
the next Pour into The Bucket is imminent
September 1
...
…
Begnas Lake, East of Pokhara
...
...
in other news
i’ve made a new pal
Maury, or Maurizio
from Brescia
with blue eyes and something Germanic in the Italian accent
cyclist, superfit, traveller and one-time military bugler
“the boogie-woogie bugle-boy from company glee”, and all that
...
Maury was in Gokarna during lockdown
yet i only occasionally spoke to him
...
in fact i wrote a poem about him, or a couple of lines
before i ever met him
...
the lines were about him and his then partner
and went
“the couple joined at the lip
one long smile between them”
...
and later i added
“so in love they beam like imbeciles”
...
which lines were even in last year’s show
in the Movies Poem
...
“the couple joined at the lip
one long smile between them
so in love they beam like imbeciles”
...
...
and we are going for lots of excursions
long walks
Sarangkhot and the five-headed Ganesh
Damside then Peace Pagoda then Giant Shiva at Pudimkot then Yellow Bridge then Pame, 20+ k
Methlang
Begnas Lake [see photos]
Pame then Yellow Bridge then Shiva then Pagoda then Damside
...
next venture will be SUBs across the lake
...
…
...
...
in other news
these walks have been extremely hot
shatteringly hot
and it is exceedingly EXCEEDINGLY clammy
so i am still the sweatiest person in the world
...
in fact i’ve done more sweating this August
than i would have in the Fringe Theatres of Canada
where i have often been The Sweatiest Person In The Whole Wide World
...
went to Begnas Lake
with Maury
and Bekah from Bath
newly qualified as a physio
and fresh from volunteering in Eastern Nepal
and so, towards the end of our circuit
Bekah spotted a jetty down below
and demanded a swim
while i think
that you, Dear Reader, might not disbelieve me
when i say that
on immersion in the water
my head steamed
and my skull cracked open
revealing not a brain
but what looked like
boiled-dry
spicy
noodles
none of which surprised me
or my pals
...
...
jetty down below at Majhikuna
...
...
in other news
no plans to leave here
i’ve run out of new walks
yet my perch is a pouch...
...
...
Maury Blue Eyes, Bekah Bath and a distracted me
...
...
in other news
half way up a long steep jungly slope
i met a poet called Parwan
which is pronounced par-one
and i immediately thought
golf!
par one!!
a par one hole...
where i reckon a par one hole is gonna be tough
and leaves no room for error
...
and then i thought of par none
par zero
as a metaphor
in which
you cannot win
or
you have already lost
or
you were born up to your neck in debt
...
so i’ll leave you with the cheery notion of
a Par None Hole
