In New York’s Lower East Side, you can cross miles of the earth in one block.
Stop one: Tibet. Tiny restaurant, cafe tables and chairs, a banquette by the window, flapping Tibetan flags outside fogged up windows, streaming rain, the humidity penetrating into the small room. Dumplings, cabbage salad, Chili Dofu, a byo bottle of good red wine, light, fresh, unique flavors that taste straight from their Tibetan home. Flip flops.
Flip flops are exchanged for stilettos, we hobble down the street huddled under one child’s size umbrella. The next door opens into a world of warmth, crowds, drinks, good friends– and dancing.
Above, my friend Alejandra dancing. Below, Cafe Himalaya.