More Dining (Fawlty Towers)

Nothing beats the stumbled discovery, all without notice or any kind of fanfare. Coliseum Cafe Bar here this afternoon. First poking of the head you could tell it had illustrious history and famous guests years gone by. Somerset Maugham featured in a collage on the wall; a no doubt celebrated cartoonist’s sketches of various customers; &etc. Oh yeah! the aglio olio one lunchtime real soon within those hallowed paneled walls. Ordinarily, far too a la carte for this camper, but one did need to broaden the horizon occasionally. Certainly it was not going to beat the hunger for the uppuma at Kader today, not by a long shot. Finally, a simple route had been found from Chow Kit directly through to the inner hub, a roundabout circuit needed first time near Masjid India and the street market. Few hundred metres was all, made no never mind. Just got a sweat up in the heat, brow needing wiping on arrival, the scone, back of the neck, chin. Old faker Maugham back in the day would have tossed his wet kerchief in precisely the same way into his upturned hat on the table at Coliseum. There! Ah! Chap’s earned a lunch after that lot... Chin guy who wasn’t for the order got the uppuma part alright, that was fine. But for the drink didn’t understand nanti. What?!... Fixing on the second syllable, thought it was tea. Tea?... No, no... Well, lemon tea?... No! Nanti. Later... What was it with this guy, China orang was he? Made a couple of the Tamil lads smile. No, I’m not Chinese, fellow replied. Nepal.... Ah. Oh well. That explains it. The uppuma he got straight off, no problem. Waiting to tell him the three cylinders with the sambal follow-up. Another minor problem with terminology, but the man did get the general drift. (Was it in fact chutney rather than sambal that was served with most Indian dishes? Was that the proper term? The lad may have been right. In any case, all sweet. Google later.) The problem came not long after that first round. Wouldn’t you know it, you were not outta the woods at all. Here he comes with the cuppa he has decided for you, lemon floating on top. Oh! No, no.... What, now you don’t want it? he seemed to be flashing.... OK, he was ready to cart it back if that was your wish. Fella wants to be difficult... OK. OK. Give it here. That’s fine... Little relief. But some consternation in fact remained for this man of the high country. Looking at the platter where you had spooned all the “chutney” a question suggesting itself to the Nepalese. What, no sugar?... Oooo! No. Certainly not sugar, no. (The day before the same dish had been delivered by one of the Tamil lads with a tall, plastic container of sugar half way up the sides. That was the usual for uppuma, a right proper treat in Chennai. Lashings of sugar.) Here the variance caused the Nepalese some concern, and not difficult to discern why. Two pairs of eyes simultaneously turning to the cup of tea.  Beneath the lemon, heaped at the bottom of the glass and making a cloud, a little snow capped volcano... What, sugared?!... Nods sheepishly the former alpine sheep herder; needs must own. No, no. No sugar... No?... He’ll take it away then. Bounding back directly with kosong. Would that be all then? Everything to your satisfaction?... Customer was right now, yes. Thank you kindly, yes... Unable to recall the Nepali. What was it now?... The TE-ZU-DJE-BADE had been served up to him carefully rounded vowels. Lad had bent an ear, bent a second time and repeated the first syllable. Shook his head. Completely confused... What? He couldn’t catch his own lingo?... Ah. Was that right? Was...? Were these crossed wires then? Peninsular Plaza down in Sing. Ya, that was it. That was Burmese; NOT Nepalese. Bugger. Screwed up. Made a hash of it, completely flummoxing the poor lad. Not so long ago you had known the other, one little word at least in order to jolly the people a bit.