The Best Drinks in Delhi & the Delhi Social Scene

Delhi had exceeded all of my expectations, and thanks in large part to Bose I had more fun in Delhi than I had had in a long time.  Needless to say, when it came to our last day, I was sad to be leaving.

To cope with the depression, I spent the morning in the hotel room uploading pictures and watching Indian TV.  If you ever have the opportunity to watch a Chinese move dubbed into English with Indian voice over actors, please do it.  It’s 2 hours well spent.  Trust me.

Eventually mobilizing from bed we headed over to Humayun’s Tomb in Delhi which looks quite a bit like the Taj Mahal except done in red sandstone instead of white marble.  In someways despite having been to the Taj the day before, I enjoyed Humayun’s Tomb a bit more because:

  1. It was a hell of a lot less crowded
  2. I had no expectations for it
  3. The red sandstone was really pretty

There were also a lot more things to see within the tomb and a lot less restrictions on where you could go, what you could touch and what you could take pictures of.  After an hour or two walking around, we headed over to Haus Khas Village to get drinks and watch the sunset with my future husband from Holi.

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After sunset it was onto my favorite local joint for dinner…PCO!  I had literally been there three out of the five nights I was in Delhi, had yet to have the same drink twice, but still hadn’t eaten there.  And if the food was half as good as the drinks, we were in for a treat.  As we walked up I realized it was my first time heading in without Bose, and fuck me, I didn’t realize I actually needed a passcode to get in.  I tried calling him with no luck, so I went with the American system of loudly banging on the door until someone opened up.  Fortunately it worked…dinner time!

Right as I was about to order Bose called me back.
Him: What are you ordering?
Me: Not sure yet.
Him: Get the steak.
Me: The polenta steak?
Him: No, steak.  It’s not on the menu, but just ask them about the steak.  Trust me.

A little hesitant because, well, it was steak, and this is India, I ordered the steak medium-rare assuming they’d probably mess up and I’d get it medium well.  Last time I ever second guess Bose.  Here’s a picture of my steak.

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A few minutes after the steak arrived so did Bose who proudly told me, “I told you so.”  However, after dinner I was falling victim to the itis and wasn’t sure I’d be able to drink more.  Knowing I’m a huge fan of gin drinks, Bose came back with a beautiful, tasty and effervescent gin, cucumber, elderflower and soda cocktail.  You are my hero.  delhi 059

By the time we finished dinner, the bar was getting pretty busy but fortunately we had secured our table with dinner.  As I watched people people file in my friend who had lived in India the year before came to mind.  She had dated an Indian guy while she was in Delhi and had jokingly told me, “You’ll probably see him out.”   So humoring her I scanned the crowd for her former beau.  And guess what.  He was sitting at the table next to me.  In a city of 16.3 million people, the one person my friend had told me to watch out for was sitting less than 10 feet away from me.  Holy shit the world is small.

While I creepily stared at him wondering whether or not I should super awkwardly go up and say hi, a couple came and asked if they could squeeze in at the end of our table.  Naturally we said yes, and they sat down.  Future Hubby started talking to them and then turns to me and says, “She’s definitely Indian.”  Confused as to why this would be a major declaration he went on to explain that he had asked them where they were from and he had said he was English, which was verified by his blonde hair, blue eyes and accent.  She said she was Italian which was …questionable due to her dyed blonde-brown hair, rather dark complexion that was covered by several pounds of make-up, and not so great fashion sense.  After talking to them for a while more Hubby said he had come up with a fool proof plan to determine once and for all whether or not she was Indian.

“Hey I have some hash, can you roll a joint?”

Apparently only Indian chicks know how to roll hash spliffs.  And apparently this chick knew how.  Hubby was now hitting me violently in the arm telling me he told me so that she was Indian.  I wasn’t totally convinced of her nationality one way or the other, but not wanting to disagree, when in Rome….

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