Not much to this one, folks. Another tasteless beer without competition, but I’m not sure what else one can expect in a place where dispensable income is very rare. The only redeeming quality would have to be the label. If you can’t make (or afford) the trek up to the world’s rooftop, then at least you can drink a beer named after it while taking in the ridiculous view of the 30,000 ft. tall mountain.

We happened to be in Kathmandu on the Nepali New Year. To celebrate, our hotel served up plates of beautiful Nepali sweets. Here we were introduced to the desserts gulab jamun and sohan papdi.

Gulab jamun, also known as “waffle balls,” is a popular dessert in countries of the Subcontinent such as India, Pakistan, Nepal and Bangladesh. The overly-sweet dessert is made of a dough consisting mainly of milk and is soaked in a sugar syrup and flavored with cardamom seeds and rosewater or saffron.

Also popular throughout the Subcontinent, sohan papdi is square in shape, and has a crisp and flaky texture. When flavored with almond, as it was above, it’s particularly scrumptious and melts in your mouth.

Come what may, you can’t visit Nepal without trying Nepal’s ubiquitous dal bhat. Ask any trekker if they’ve tried it, and they’ll roll their eyes and give you a look of disgust. This is not to say dal bhat is not gastronomically pleasing; it is simply the monotony of this Nepali staple that causes such disdain from travellers.

Nepalis eat two meals a day, one mid-morning and the other in the evening. And guess what they both are? Yep – dal bhat. Every day of every week of every month of every year, Nepalis eat dal bhat. This might be the reason you don’t see Nepali restaurants in Western states – the menu would be very, very terse.

Dal bhat consists of steamed rice and lentil soup, typically served on a tin tray. It is often served with a vegetable tarkari – a vegetable curry with spices similar to those of Indian cuisine – and unleavened bread such as a roti or chapati. A small portion of chutney or pickle (called achar) is usually included, as well.

I will say this for dal bhat – it is the perfect trekking meal. It provides plenty of much-needed carbs and protein. Although often boring to the taste, it offers a great deal of sustenance and energy for your next day of hiking. Marathoners should take note.

Popular in Himalayan regions, including northern India, Nepal, Tibet and China, momos are dumplings either deep-fried or steamed and filled with meat or vegetables.

A traditional dumpling is filled with pork, vegetables and topped off with a spicy sambal sauce. Preparation is intense, as the dough is made by hand. After stuffing the dumpling full of tasty comestibles, the dough is then kneaded and prodded into a side braid that resembles a pastry-like turnover or Asian empanada. You can expect to wait half an hour for this snack or meal to arrive. But it’s certainly worth the wait.

The texture and filling do not differ much by region. However, the sauce accompanying the momos tends to vary greatly by state. In some regions, a simple soy-based sauce is used while in others, like in Darjeeling or Nepal, the sauce is made from spicy chilies and be as thick as a curry.

The Nepalis call the Annapurna Sanctuary trail the Heavenly Path. We set to find out for ourselves on a 10 day hike along the trail to the summit of Annapurna Base Camp.

Along the way we passed through quaint villages with stone walls, flower pots and children playing on the path asking for sweets, pens, and chocolates. We hiked through thick rhododendron forests, along mountain streams and through endless fields of rice terraces. After five days on the trails, we reached an elevation of nearly 15,000 feet at Annapurna Base Camp. Here we were rewarded with a panorama of soaring Himalayan peaks. Around us were colorful prayer flags flapping in the wind against the blue sky. While the majestic mountain scenery was breathtaking, a leopard jumping out on the path 20 feet in front of us will surely stand out as the highlight of the trek.

Check out photos above for scenes from our journey.

In a country where the majority religion shuns alcohol, I was in need of alternative beverage options. Thank God (or Shiva – although he always like to chill out with a puff or two instead of a drink), for the cool, crisp lemon soda that can be found at every restaurant in the subcontinent.

“Lemon” is actually a misnomer. They actually use fresh-squeezed lime juice joined by club soda, often with a hint of mint to garnish and taste. Nothing is as refreshing on a hot and muggy day.

The one pictured here was especially “hoppy.”

We gussied up for a last night out on the town. Just before heading out the door of our hotel, however, the front desk clerk suggested we rethink our evening plans.

“Nepal is closed tomorrow,” we were told in his broken, British-accented English.

As the doorman put a padlock on the front door and drew the shades of our cheery hotel, we soon learned we were on the eve of a massive political protest in Nepal. Maoist rebels were set to take over the cities the following day, shutting down businesses and shops and putting a halt on all taxis and buses. The last time a protest of this magnitude took place, Nepal was ‘closed’ for nineteen days.

We opted to have dinner in that night, but our plans to depart for Tibet the following day wouldn’t change. An early departure ensured we would make it out okay so at 3:30 a.m., in the stillness of the morning and the calm before the Maoist storm, we were picked up in a bus barreling towards Tibet.

The early morning drive was beautiful. We snaked around the valley of the Himalayan Mountains hugging a river gorge while passing through Nepali villages. Three hours later we arrived at the border town and sat down to a breakfast with the other travelers who’d be joining us on our adventure.

It was here we learned we’d be in good company for our eight-day journey in Tibet. Never have I met a more well-traveled and diverse group of people. From Botswana to Croatia, from Chile to Malawi and every place in between, these travelers came from nearly every corner of the globe.

Prior to approaching the border, we were briefed by our guide on what to anticipate. As expected, we weren’t to bring in any ‘Free Tibet’ apparel or Tibetan flags. But our guide extended the off-limits list. Any books or magazines criticizing China, any photos of the Dalai Lama, and god forbid, any China Lonely Planet guidebooks were out. The latter, we were told, is forbidden because they show Taiwan to be separate from China on the guidebook’s map. We were getting a taste of the absurd control and hypocrisy of the Chinese machine.

We said adieu to Nepal and were directed to begin the border crossing procedures, a process that would take a good part of our day. We crossed a huge bridge lined with Chinese soldiers carrying guns as tall as they were. At the end of the bridge were massive columns where more Chinese soldiers stood in permanent salute position under the enormous Chinese red flag flapping in the wind.

It was a surreal experience. We were about to enter Tibet, a land I’ve read so much about and dreamed of seeing. What I found were the Chinese standing tall, proudly making their statement. There was no Tibet. We were entering China.

My first glimpse of the Tibetan people was here at the border. They were slumped over at the waist hauling forty plus boxes tied together with ropes on their backs across the border. Beside the Chinese in their finely pressed uniforms, the Tibetans were dressed in ragged clothing. They looked exhausted and beaten down. They were working like mules.

We began the inspection procedures at the Chinese immiration office. The thorough search of everyone’s belongings lasted all day. They searched through toiletries and clothing. They thumbed through books and magazines, and confiscated items they viewed as a threat. They tried to take away our CD of Enya-like Tibetan Buddhist chants we had purchased, and by the time the search was over they’d taken heaps of guidebooks away from our traveling cohorts.

The aggression and intensity of the search was invasive, and made us feel like we were losing our personal freedoms. Things I’ve taken for granted my whole life, like the freedom to choose what I read and what I wear, were taken away. It made me feel very uncomfortable and even a bit nervous. China was flexing her muscle and would remind us daily during our stay in Tibet that Big Brother is watching.

They say first impressions are often the truest. Well, when a photo of the fallen leader of Tibet or an inaccurate map of China pose such a threat, the Chinese seemed, to me, more petulant children than fierce rulers. With this in mind, I reluctantly entered China’s Tibet.

Created with Admarket’s flickrSLiDR.

Created with Admarket’s flickrSLiDR.

While the great outdoors may be Nepal’s biggest draw, stepping off the well-trodden tourist trail can be just as rewarding. We found just that on a visit to the historic village of Bandipur, which made its way next on our list.

About four hours west of Kathmandu, the charming town of Bandipur is perched high in the mountains overlooking a deep river gorge, cascading rice terraces and mustard fields. It’s home to a community of Newari people, a mixed tribe of Indian and Tibetan-Bhutan origin, who are known to for their excellent farming, merchant and artisan skills.

One of the greatest testaments to their skillfulness can be seen in their architectural brilliance. The style is marked by incredible brick work and an intricate style of wood carving rarely seen outside of Nepal. Bandipur is a living museum of the Newari architecture, with tall, brick buildings lining the windy, cobblestone streets. As tourism hasn’t arrived here, you won’t find internet cafes, postcards or tourist touts. What you find is a community of Newari people going on with the daily life.

After several days on the trails of the Himalayas, we were due for a bit of a treat, and pushed the budget a bit to stay in one of the beautifully- restored 18th centrury mansions on the main square. This place was incredible, and it took everything in us just to leave our little, cozy inn. Our charming room had a quaint balcony overlooking the Himalayas and was filled with small, unique touches of Buddhist and Newari art.

Our time in Bandipur was brief but certainly memorable. We spent our days doing nothing more than wandering the streets of the old town and taking in the peaceful vibe of village life. This place for me was exactly the break I needed from the traveling road and enjoying a pot of tea on the terracotta terraces facing the mountains was a true Nepali highlight.