The endless quest for a birthday beverage

Yesterday was my 34th birthday, and I am currently visiting one of my research projects in Lahan at the eastern end of Nepal, on the terai - the hot plains - which slope down to India. I was slightly worried the day before that I would feel sad not to be 33 anymore, as it was a good year, and because I was exactly half Dad’s age, which seems important. But I think being 34 will be fun, too, particularly as I’ve never been this age before, and of all the places I’ve spent my birthday, Nepal has been the most interesting.

In the evening I went out for a birthday dinner with my two colleagues. Even after dark it was still incredibly hot. We all squashed into an electric rickshaw and I hung my head out of the side in the warm darkness, looking for holy cows napping on the side of the road.

When we arrived at the restaurant we asked our young waiter about the local wines.

“Are the local wines sweet?” Jeremy, the researcher, asked.

“Yes”, came the answer. We didn’t want a sweet wine, so he followed up: “Do you have a dry wine?”

The waiter nodded. “Yes, sir”.

We asked to see a bottle of the dry wine. It came at room temperature, and clearly labelled 'sweet'. “Do you have a... not-sweet local wine?” Jeremy tried.

“No, sir.”

We felt we were getting somewhere with this clear confirmation. We turned to the international wines section. “Do you have a not-sweet international wine, please?”

The waiter went to fetch one. He returned with two colleagues, one squat bottle of Port, and one tasty-looking but warm white wine from Mostar, Bosnia. Neither had been listed on the menu. We fancied the Bosnian wine. “Do you have a cold bottle of this one?” I pointed to the Mostar.

The waiter nodded. “No, ma’am”.

Astrid, the team microbiologist, advised against us using local ice to cool the warm white, so we took a collective breath, and considered a stronger tipple from the back of the menu.

“What about a G&T?” I suggested. “But we need to make sure they have tonic,” Jeremy pointed out. Astrid went inside to survey the soft drinks. “No tonic,” she confirmed mournfully as she returned.

The menu had mocktails but no cocktails. We turned to the waiter again. “What about this mocktail here” - Jeremy pointed to the extensive menu - “with vodka on the side?”

“No mocktails, sir.”

The straight, warm gin was starting to sound tempting, I thought. During the drive to Lahan two days earlier we had passed a battered-looking building on the roadside called 'Hotel Try Again'. That, I reflected, would have been a much better name for this establishment.

We decided, inevitably, to order beer.

“Please could I have an Everest?” I asked nervously.

“No Everest, ma’am.”

“Gurkha?" Jeremy attempted.

“No sir.”

“What do you have?” I asked, slightly impatiently. It had never taken me this long to secure a beverage on my birthday. Surely there are laws against these sorts of delays.

“Tuborg, ma’am.”

“We’ll go for Tuborg, please - are they cold?” Jeremy checked quickly.

“Yes sir.” Our three nodding waiters seemed a little surprised at this impertinent question, and marched away in file.

They returned at last with two beers; one cold, one warm.

This beer is not available.

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More on Nepal:
The dusty dogs of Kathmandu - on my arrival into Nepal
The endless quest for a birthday beverage - I try to order a drink in Lahan, with mixed success
The tiger who took a taxi - on my first day in Kathmandu
Political unrest and an exciting trip to the airport - my journey to a regional airport amidst civil unrest
The road to Bandipur - is not as straightforward as it seems
Boiled alive in Bandipur - I visit a silkworm farm and discover the violent origins of the Silk Road
My elephant friends - I meet some unpleasant humans and some very important elephants