Sometimes, I idly wonder what it would be like to be a nomad, living in a yurt.
To be constantly on the move. Having a camel/horse/other smelly mode of transport. Sleeping in a different place every night.
Then I remember what backpacking around Europe during my university days was like. On my 2 week journey around with not much money, I spent less than half the nights in a bed. I slept on a bus, on a train and one particularly cold and miserable night, on an open train platform. Then the yearning dies a bloody death.
In any case, this is the yurt of Yurt Cafe. It is quite big (and dark) inside.
Latte. Something weird happened here. It had a very light taste of coffee. It had an overwhelming taste of milk. This was a new experience for me. The coffee wasn’t too fruity, burnt or black. It just tasted of milk. Not great.
I tried to think about other reasons why things turned out the way they did. Was the use of yurt a signal that they were trying to put a Mongolian spin on things? Or perhaps there a herd of bovine animals around the back? Alternatively, was this how they got rid of the excess diary? Then again, maybe I was being sucked along to a rather pointless daydream. So on this rather nice day (sunny in England!), guess I should enjoy the atmosphere instead.
A quiet eating 5/10.
A coffee was GBP3.
2 Butcher Row
London E14 8DS