Each Morning I awoke to the sudden beeping of my watch. Taking a few moments to fully wake up, I’d get dressed, take my vitamins and do some much needed stretching. After gathering myself, I’d emerge from my room through the loud and short door that I almost always bump my head on. Then time and time again, my Aamaa would be on the porch nursing a freshly lit cigarette. She was always accompanied by a companion, though not often the same one. As soon as she laid eyes on me, she ushered me to a chair and promptly placed a steaming mug of tea in my hands. She didn’t speak any English but my acute knowledge of Nepali allowed us to get in a few thoughts here and there. “Basnus” she’d say. So I’d sit. Then I’d take the freshly boiled tea and quickly took a sip, knowing she’d be in search of approval. “Mitcho chaa?” she’d ask. “Mitcho chha. Malaai Manparcha.” I’d respond, to let her know I enjoyed it. She’d smile, then we’d all chuckle at how simple and silly our conversations were. Occasionally, we had more hysterical reasons to laugh, like my Buwaa coming out of the bathroom wearing only underwear or my Aamaa soaking a cookie in her tea for just a little too long and losing it all in the depths of her cup. I enjoyed our laughter, even when it was directed at my poorly constructed sentences. There was always lots to enjoy about tea with Aamaa. The breath taking views of the Himalayas, the banter filled with emotion and excitement that I couldn’t understand, and the delicious chiya. Though I won’t be having anymore cups of tea with Aamaa this trip, I look forward to more chiya and adventures all around Nepal.