eM's Quick Guide To Panjim

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“Holiday? Is like, what? I’m a hyperactive girl, so it may be boring for me to be on the beach doing nothing. I just need to find a place for three weeks and work but sleep in the morning, maybe write a little bit, have a glass of red wine. That’s my perfect holiday.” - French actress Melanie Laurent

  I have a new favourite city and it is Panjim. No jokes--I used to think that the only two cities I'd live in in India were Bombay or Delhi--sorry Bangalore, your water sitch scared me, but it looks like we're all in the same boat, so joke's on me! Ha-ha? (Also the Bangalore traffic, I know we have traffic in Delhi as well, but at least the roads are wider.) Anyhow, no longer! Now my number two choice of city (number one being our default home with our flat and our friends and our resources) is Panjim! So charming, but of course, I'd have to live in the Latin Quarters to feel that charm 24/7, the apartments are just apartments on roads that are just roads in small town India, nothing super charming about them.

But of course, you don't have to MOVE to Panjim to fall in love with it. You could experience it over a weekend like we did, leaving the home comforts of our friends' villa in North Goa to hunt out some City Livin' for the weekend. As a sign up in a coffee shop said, "The beach is boring." (Roxane Gay in this terrific piece sums up what we're all thinking also.)

Here's what we did. I strongly urge you to give Panjim a few days when you're next in Goa, it's almost like being abroad for a second, except with fish thaalis.

The hotel: We stayed in the lovely Latin Quarters (Fontainhas) where there are loads of little guest houses. We found ours on Booking.com, a really old house called Hospedaria Abrigo De Botelho. I chose it primarily for the long narrow wrap-around balcony that the room had on one side, the high ceilings and the ancient old bed. We looked out over tiled rooftops and there was a bonus mama cat with her kittens frolicking on a nearby roof, two of which looked remarkably like our beloved Bruno, so that was excellent.

Since it was pelting down with rain almost every day, I think we were the only guests (except a very noisy family who joined us for breakfast on the first day, playing loud Punjabi music on their mobile phones while the baby squalled. I don't know where they went after, but we missed breakfast for the next two days and didn't run into them again. Thank god. Murder has been committed for less.)

Rain check: It's so nice and quiet in Goa now. The last time I did a full-on monsoon trip, I was in my early twenties, and two girlfriends and I went to the Cavala resort in Baga beach and got SO wasted all the three nights we were there, someone tattled on us back in Bombay and I returned to long faces and lectures from the fellow I was dating then who was a First Class Fuckface (FCF). The trip was fun though, despite two days of hangover after thirteen tequila shots--uff, I will never be that young and that foolish again, which is a blessing.

We had already bought some raincoats--a  yellow button down slicker for me from Oxford stores (very well stocked, a grocery store after my own heart) and K stopped by the side of the road and got himself an orange poncho, which unfortunately also reminds us of the RSS, which is sad, that they've screwed up such a happy colour, but we should try and reclaim it. Just in time too, it rained hard all the days we were in Panjim, puttering about on the scooter.

Coffee/cozy: If you get caught in the rain, make your way to Bombay Coffee Roasters, which is part of the Old Quarters hostel. You can't miss the building, it's got a mural outside made to look like old tiles. They do this hot chocolate which is a massive square of chocolate, about the size of a baby's fist on a stick which you dunk into hot milk. Oh my god, you guys. The sitting, the hot chocolate, the rain, you'll die of coziness.

Another great place to go for coffee (and breakfast if you're up early) is Bodega. It's up a hill and behind a temple, set inside an art institute. It's essentially a courtyard surrounded by three long galleries, and it has coffee, eggs and things AND baked goods. However, do not be fooled by the fancy siren call of Eggs Benedict. I refuse to believe anyone actually loves eggs benny for the sake of eggs benny, you know? You all just think it's a damn posh breakfast or something. And sure, it's pretty, and it's time consuming to make, all that poaching, all that hollandaise, but can we just admit it's sort of... gross? Meh at the best of times. Don't @ me eggs benny lovers! I am ON TO YOU. K ordered it, because we both were slightly hypnotised by it as we always are. Eggssss Benedictttttt. It's like avocado toast, you know? The breakfast you know you should want because it's trendy and fancy but in the end, you should have just stuck to your regular toast and regular eggs.

(That ends my lecture on Eggs Benedict.)

Fish thaalis: On the first day we were there, we wended our way to Ritz Classic. Now, Ritz Classic is the place you tell people in Panjim about and they go, "Ah, Ritz Classic, obviously." It's like when someone comes to Delhi and tells you they've been to Moti Mahal or Pandara Road. You shrug like a Frenchman and go, "But of course."

From what I found out, there are several Ritz Classics, the Classicii as it were, but we went to the one Google Maps sent us to, an air conditioned place with uniformed waiters and knee deep in tables. They had put in seating everywhere, and yet there was a long line (thankfully after we were seated) and sharing tables and people just kept coming, even close to 3 pm, when the restaurant officially closes. It was worth it. The Ritz Classic thaali should be on an Intro To Fish Thaalis course, it is the baseline thaali, it is the thaali that should set expectations, only to shatter your hopes bitterly when you realise what an exception it is. On the plate: prawn curry, TWO pieces of fried fish, each so big, you'll only be able to eat one (and a half if you're lucky), a separate fish curry in a sort of recheado sauce, crabs, mussels, sol kadi, kheer--did I forget anything? Obligatory veg and that dried prawn onion thing. I ate slowly, but I did not eat it all.

On our last day, we went to Corina, another institute, but one that was so dingy it even challenged MY adventurous spirit. It's what the Panjimians call "a taverna," like the Greek (even though Corina is one of the few places that does food), so it smells of old alcoholics, and even had several tables occupied by men drinking busily. It also had the pong of a room not aired out, so while it was clean, it was not exactly appetising, even though the thaali was very good. Go here only if you have the stomach for it and would like feel like one of the locals. There was a mural outside of a man with yellow eyes and that broken vein nose of alcoholics, which I thought was very fitting.

Not a fish thaali: Just down the road from us, a fun little ramen place called Mamarama. We had passed it the day before, in the shadow of a church. We walked in the next day for lunch and heard a loud hallooo. "Guys!" and from behind the counter emerged a Delhi/Bombay/Goa friend who managed the place! Although not biased because of him, Mamarama is super cute with fun food (miso shrimp in butter mmmm) and also breakfast and coffee options if my rant about eggs benny has put you off Bodega (which it shouldn't because it's also lovely. Plus the chef there also consults here so all one umbrella really.)

Draaanks: First: Joseph's. The trendiest little dive bar, and it should be, overrun as it is with people from 99 Springboard (or is it 91? The co-working space is what I mean anyway) and in December, the entirety of the Serendipity Arts Festival descended on it. "A 100 to 200 people," another friend said, shaking his head, "They were spilling out all over the road." As they had to, Joseph's is teeeeny tiny, and that's AFTER they got rid of their taco making tenants next door and added another little room to their establishment. Joseph's is the only dive bar I know in Goa that actually sells Black Jewel and Greater Than gin, and also has Susegad beer on tap and Simba in the fridge, so okay, not very dive bar at all, except the size, the history and the bathroom, which is GENUINE dive for all you tourists, sharing space with a storage room, damp and with a hole in the ground, ominous lightbulb swinging overhead.

Joseph's doesn't do food, so the first night we set out for Clube Nacional. Newly refurbished because a year ago the roof caved in, I remember a couple of years ago, and we were charmed by how old and dingy it was (sensing a pattern here). Now though, it's like a sports bar, everything is newly done but in a bright! loud! way, so even the old uncles drinking (so many old uncles all over Panjim wanting to explain things to us. Mansplaining, Panjim edition) looked a little shell shocked in the light. The food is still really really good though--all these little stuffed pois with things in them, especially the smoked pork, mmmm. Oh, the choriz pao. What a beauty.

One night we went to Pinto's to meet friends and eat and drink as well, and there we had an excellent meal as well, but special shout out for the feijoada, which is this Portuguese dish made with kidney beans and sausage, Goan-ed up with choriz and rajma. Pinto's has a special sausage supplier, so their Goan sausages are light on the vinegar and with a more smoked flavour, and this feijoada is brought in from a nearby home, so it's a special family recipe, I believe. SO GOOD. We also ate it with a different kind of bread than what we'd been having before (I think Clube Nacional also had it). I forget the name, but it had a hard crisp shell and a steamy soft inside, and we were quite greedy about it. Almost like a dinner roll, they served it to us piping hot and you broke the bread in half along the crack on top.

Shopping: Not this time, but when we did our Panjim day trip I went to this little boutique called OMO (recommended by a friend a while ago) and got myself this incredible skirt which I am, of course, being me, saving for the right occasion which is so silly, I should just WEAR it all the time, but I want the first time to be special, you know how it is. Maybe next week when we are in Bangalore? Or maybe the week after that, back in Delhi. I love this skirt, I love its swoopy samurai shape and its high waist, so sexy and how I feel half warrior princess half ballerina. But OMO also has incredible fusion-y type clothes, the kind that I wear often, so if you're into that, definitely go check it out. (there's a Blue Tokai in the back to sweeten your deal.)

OKAY! That's my Panjim list, as always I'd love to hear your feedback, but like, not in a needy way, just in a "oh how nice that someone is reading this thing" way. No links this week, EXCEPT two that I wrote myself.

My mythology column! Last fortnight's theme (and my first) was on Mohini, Vishnu's female avatar. (New one coming out next week.)

Excerpt: How hot was Mohini? So hot that she had an off-again, on-again thing with Shiva in several tales — not quite Ross and Rachel but definitely some Jamie and Claire from Outlander vibes, where Claire's husband left behind in present-day Scotland is Parvati. There are at least three different stories where Shiva either spots her or asks Vishnu as a very special favour to produce her. In most of these stories, he's so overcome that he ejaculates immediately and his semen falls on the ground.

My book recommendation column! This month: privilege and its consequences. Very exciting books.

Excerpt:  I read one-and-a-half sports books for you, dear reader, even though the Organised Sport genre bores me to tears. Early on in Nick Hornby’s football classic Fever Pitch, I was yawning so hard I almost dislocated my jaw. [...] Here is my takeaway: Life is too short and there are too many good books in this world to bother ploughing through something that refuses to hold your interest. Move on and abandon it with, well, abandon.

Newsletter: eM's Quick Guide To The Goa Life (part two)

(Part one here.)

(Sent out as my newsletter last month, subscribe here.)

Week two of my Month In Goa life, and I think, I really do think, I can see myself living here. Probably not full time, but for a few months of the year, definitely. And to that end, we've been looking at places we can rent at affordable prices so as to always have a house we can run away to. It's a different sort of tourism--house hunting--and it's been fun looking at all these homes and trying to picture them as Home. Well, Another Home, anyway. I've been imagining something wildly different from our Delhi house, which is, of course, the place of my heart (if only I could collapse it and carry it around with me like a snail), so that each home is distinct from the other. I've been itching for some kind of CHANGE in my life this last year, something new and different, and moving towards becoming the global citizens we want to be (few months in Delhi, few months in Goa, few months abroad, maybe?) feels like the coming together of something that's been simmering at the back of my head for a while. However, all this is purely hypothetical at the moment, so more updates as and when I have them. (We're probably going to share with a friend who lives in Goa full time, so as to halve the rent and also have someone always living in the house, which is important because even a few weeks of neglect makes the old Portuguese houses return to the wild.) (UPDATE: Reader, we rented it.) 

This week in SKILLZ: Have been trying to master the art of riding a scooter. That's how everyone here gets around from old grannies to young college girls, and so I was all, "How hard can it be, really?" It's not, but it's still a little scary. I realise that the fear bit in my brain (the amygdala, an "almond shaped structure in the limbic system") works a little harder than most people's, which is why I'm usually risk averse. However, K is a good teacher, and often sits right behind me so he can take over control if I begin to lose it, and maybe soon, I'll be able to ride that sucker by myself.

This week in food and drink: Mainly drink. A kind Delhi friend (hi Niyati!) introduced me to Black Jewel gin at hers, a while ago, as an Indian gin you could only get in Goa, but which was pretty good. (Not Bombay Sapphire or Tanqueray good, but one step up from Gordon's. Beefeater, perhaps?) It's distilled in Italy, but sold here at a ridiculously low price for good gin (Rs 520!) and after re-drinking it at my friends, who had a little bit left in a bottle, we went in quest for it at several different liquor stores until we finally found it. That's my evening unwind now, local gin with local tonic and another friend taught me to slice a green chilli down the middle to add a little extra sparkle to it. I've ensured everyone I know here has tried it, and so there'll probably be a huge demand for Black Jewel pretty soon. (Delhi friends, I'm bringing back a few bottles in my suitcase for you all to try!)

Also, OMG OMG, it's avocado season! And it's best to eat it now, says the cook, because during season, which is fast descending on us, the prices are ridiculously high for all the foreigners who demand avocado on everything. We always have fresh guac in the fridge. Guacamole and gin and tonic. Mmmmm.

This week in clothing experiments: So I thought I'd be very practical in Goa and live off only seven dresses, rotating them every week. HOWEVER, that was a TERRIBLE idea, and I am now thoroughly bored of all my clothes and never want to see them again. I'm all like, "WHY DID I PICK THESE ONES?" and thinking longingly of my lovely dresses hanging in my cupboard at home and half of the ones I brought don't even FIT properly and basically I'm going to have to buy some tourist tat or die of Closet Boredom. Is that a thing? It should be. I have never felt so unfashionable.

This week in stuff I wrote: On Aunty Feminist, talking about why progressive parents can also be protective * In my relationship column I talk about ghosts of social media and the "so-and-so is now typing" ellipse **

Saturday link list: Home births are on the rise among India's middle class. ** Dalit food and the history of it ** Roald Dahl's granddaughter on "Mold" her beloved grandpa. **

Newsletter: eM's Quick Guide To The Goa Life (part one)

(This was mailed out to newsletter subscribers two weeks ago. Want to stay ahead of the curve? Get me in your inbox!) 

(Other eM's Quick Guides: Jaipur, Delhi nightlife, womankind, recessions, and fighting loneliness.)   

If you're even mildly tuned in to my life on other platforms, you know I'm in lovely Goa right now. Originally a dog-sitting gig, but said dogs have been parceled off to a more capable caretaker so it's just us and the cats. (And various wild animals. The other day there was this ominous thumping sound from my cupboard. I was all alone, because my friends had left and K hadn't yet joined me, and the cat looked sleepy and not at all like he was going to jump to my defense. With great courage, I flicked on the bedside lamp and looked around to see... this giant black blob by the floor of my cupboard. I couldn't tell what it was from where I sat, so I took a photo and it was this ginormous TOAD just sitting there. Later in the night, after I fell into a fitful sleep, I heard it jumping around the bedroom and the cat getting excited and the next day it was just... gone. I don't know where it went, and even if the cat ate it, as is the most possible theory, where is the corpse and the blood and so on?) 

Obviously each time I come to Goa, I'm all like, "I should live here" but general resistance to change keeps me in this in-between place where I'm like, "It's so lovely! But my cats! And my flat!" (Obvious solution: rent out flat for short term, bring cats, but have you tried to persuade three felines that transporting them is a great idea? Jesus would've wept.)

But, here's what I've checked out so far. We're staying in Assagao, which, if you're not familiar, is a nice residential village-y bit close to Vagator and Anjuna beaches. It's a global village with all sorts of cool stuff, which I have been steadily exploring.

* A friend of mine, for example, is baking her own sourdough bread in batches and delivering it to a select group on WhatsApp, which is pretty amazing. She says if I listen carefully at around four or five pm, I'll hear the parp-parp of an old-fashioned bicycle hooter, and that'll be the poi guy, making his rounds with fresh baked Goan bread.

* For fish thaalis, our friends whose house we're in (just going to call them M and R, since I suspect they'll come up a lot in this newsletter in the coming weeks) have a favourite place called Vinayak. Sadly, they're closed till the end of Ganpati, but the memory of their kingfish rawa fry is keeping me going. There's another place that comes recommended by others called Anand, but it was closed when we drove past yesterday at around 2.30 pm, so will try at an earlier hour and see.

* A food truck parked at a crossroads called Noronha's Corner has what they describe as "home made Goan food." We only ate a chorizo-pao, but are definitely going back for a roast beef sandwich or a beef cutlet or chilly beef. BEEF. ALL. THE. BEEF. AND COW LOVING FASCISTS CAN SUCK IT.

* We were sent off to Dali Bar, as a "really cool dive with Bira on tap." That famous Dali self-portrait was everywhere, the drinks were cheap-ish, and the food, while not spectacular, was plentiful. We even packed up the wedges (described as potatoes bravas) to take home and had a disgustingly greasy brunch of those with Goan sausage on top the next day. Dali Bar is nice because it's chill and open till 5 am, which is good to know.

* Driving around in search of that fish thaali, we found ourselves at Ruta's Roadhouse ("open rain or shine!"), which is a lovely large Portuguese house with a garden and the most interesting food. I had a plate of pork carnitas, served with a light lovely salsa, K had some shrimps and greens, tossed in an amazing dressing. I liked it a lot, marking as repeat visit. Plus, the whole place seems to be run by one family, so you see them all, grandmum, mum, dad, two daughters, all waiting tables and talking to guests, except for the smallest, who seemed about ten or eleven.

* There's always that old favourite Gunpowder, but at the risk of making all of you gasp, I've gotta say, I prefer my own Malayali delivery place in Delhi--Mahabelly. After months of eating Mahabelly, Gunpowder seems like a tamer version of their spices. Still v nice though, just not as spicy.

Basically, all my news is food news. Are you surprised? I am not.

On to other things! Here's what I wrote this week: In my relationship column, are you in love with your best friend? I think everyone is, a little bit, especially when you're young. ** In my column for the Financial Chronicle, the critic as the harem and not the eunuch and our relationship with criticism.**

Reading list: Spot Lutyen's rich/famous/powerful while eating out in Delhi. ** Irritating mandatory email signup, but fascinating story about Facebook harassment in India and how it affected one poor couple. ** Everything about this article about homes and how they're reflections of you made me nod ** I'm quoted in this story by Rosalyn on Palika Bazaar (ah, memories) ** Weekend time-suck: 100 and a few exceptional pieces of journalism in 2015. **

eM's Quick Guide to Bhutan

(This was my newsletter the week I returned from the Mountain Echoes Festival in Thimpu, Bhutan. Subscribe here for regular updates in your inbox every weekend.)

Hello, friends, warriors, fellow earthlings,

Bright and sunny morning after days of waking up to grey skies and rain. Now that I no longer live in Bombay where it rains for days without taking a breath, I've come to appreciate rainy mornings, from the time you're lying under your duvet and looking at the light behind the blinds to see how bright it is, to drinking your coffee while you're watching the clouds move, or just the general ahhhh-how-cozy-I-am feel of being indoors and snug and dry while outside everything is being bathed just for you. 

Sorry if you have to commute through it though. Then there's nothing romantic about it at all.

You know where else it was raining? BHUTAN. Where I just returned from. Let me tell you all about it:

The festival: Mountain Echoes is in its sixth year now, and a pretty major part of Thimpu's social calendar. Of course, Thimpu is "the size of Khan Market" as one writer put it, but still. Bhutanese travelled from all over the country to attend. But it was quite small for all that, so really very intimate, which means most of the talks were pretty well attended. (Unlike other things I've done where there's like five people in the room including the organiser, who is giving you pitying glances.)

My own stuff: My panels were quite fun. I moderated Ira Trivedi and a Bhutanese writer called Monu Tamang in a talk about writing about love, and Monu, though he kept "ma'am"-ing me and being very shy, came out of his shell quite a bit to talk about "night hunting" which is apparently how some traditional Bhutanese men date. (At night. Hunting. But in a consensual manner.) I take full credit for his expounding on Bhutanese sex and dating because of my excellent moderation. (He also said there was no gender disparity in Bhutan at all. I turned to the audience and said, "Raise your hand if you agree with him" and there were crickets. CRICKETS. Later, I met the young Bhutanese girl handling the media for the festival and she was like, "Dude OMG he's so wrong." Paraphrasing of course. Better than India anyway.)

My second panel was a little less lively, probably because we were the second last session to speak to a room full of teens who had been listening to talks about literature all day. However, happy to report, fully sold out of Split, and Cold Feet, my beloved neglected darling, did a brisk trade as well.

The food:  For the first day, I ate whatever Indian food they had organised at the various buffets, feeling very sorry for self, but then I realised I could actually LEAVE and go get something to eat. Huh. Another writer and I set off, and he was already feeling intrepid, so he suggested we eat at a dive bar. We stopped at the least bleak looking one, where the woman got us some beef, chilli and cheese curry, some daal, some rice and some kimchi. She also produced home made pickles from her own tree. Everything was excellent, even an older man pressing his phone into our hands asking us to video chat with all his relatives. (We waved and smiled, smiled and waved.)

That evening, emboldened by my dive bar meal, I ordered some pork momos at our hotel, and because I was in a rush, only managed to eat them much later at night right before I went to bed. Alas! My stomach could not handle this or perhaps the meal from earlier, because I woke up at 4 am with the most agonising stomach cramps and basically got Delhi belly in Thimpu. Thimpu tummy? It was owchy anyway.

Oh, and I ate at Cloud 9, which is this teeny, very fancy establishment known for its burgers and its homemade ice cream. Run by an Australian woman married to a Bhutanese man, it seems like a place everyone would be at, but no locals seemed to know it. Some of my fellow festival goers had every meal there and after one delicious anti-national beef burger, I wished I had thought of it too. I also had gone on a different day and had cold coffee and homemade Rocky Road and mmm. MMMMM.

The drink: Three words: Bhutanese. Peach. Wine. Actually, the local brands were pretty tasty, from the red wine to the Raven vodka to all the whiskey to the beer. (Less posh is the local EXTREMELY potent saunf-based drink which I could not have more than two sips of, even after diluting) I just rolled along with my peach wine, which tastes sweet and desserty but packs quite the punch as you realise later when you're arguing with Famous Writer. *sigh* (Argument totally warranted though.) The festival did most of its after-hours drinking at a small pub called Mojo Park, which had a live stage, exactly ONE bartender who started handing out post-its when he couldn't handle all the orders and all of Thimpu's trendies hanging about outside in the smoking area. What's that you say? Smoking is banned in Bhutan? Um, that brings me to...

The smoke: (Listen ya, sometimes I smoke because it just makes my good times even better, ok. I don't smoke at home very often and I don't do drugs or drink to excess or pop pills so whyyyy can't I just sit with my cigarettes? WHY? Argh. Very conflicted about this as you can tell.) Disclaimer over, I decided to take some cigs to Bhutan, because all the emails were all, "You won't get cigarettes ANYWHERE" etc etc. It was also very exciting because you have to declare even 14 cigarettes (that's how many I had), pay their exact value, and have a permit made. (I forgot all about my permit after I had it made, but no one asked me.) After day 2, several people ran out of cigarettes, but an Intrepid Reporter friend asked some locals where he could buy some and they took him to a shop and he returned with cigarettes. Also I totally saw Kelly Dorji smoking, so he must get from somewhere.

All told, everything was amazing. I wasn't introduced to the Queen Mother, because I skipped her dinner to watch Indian Ocean, for whom I will mostly cancel all my other engagements, but she seemed really lovely from a distance, attending almost all the sessions, and being engaged and asking questions and everything.

And that was Bhutan. Really quickly, here's what I wrote this week: As Aunty Feminist, how it's hard to be religious and feminist at the same time. ** In my relationship column, bad dates **.

Newsletter: eM's Quick Guide To Being Stylish In Jaipur

Two weeks ago, I was in the city courtesy of my friend Shrayana, who was going on work ANYWAY, and asked me to come along. (This came out as my newsletter also two weeks ago, so subscribe if you'd like more up-to-date thingies) Those of you who know me well enough also know that I always say "yes" when the question is "do you want to go out of town this weekend?" Jaipur and I have an old history however--being the Delhi relatives on my NRI cousins' pit stop, I've done Jaipur and Agra more times than I can count. Post those years, there's the lit fest, which I attend with regularity, so I was pretty sure the Pink City would hold no surprises. However! What I had not taken into account was the fact that during the lit fest we do lit fest-y things, which are nice enough, but not quite representative. This time, armed with lists and recommendations, we ate at a new fancy place for every meal, swanned about gorgeous boutiques and took several photos for Instagram. (Well, only me, as Shrayana seems to have a deep distrust for most smart phone apps.)

Looking up at the Anokhi museum roof + showing off my dress (fabric was a present + had it made)

Here are my Jaipur picks real quick:

The view from 1135 with rolling storm clouds

Where to eat:  ** 1135, at the top of Amer Fort. Gorgeous location, only if you're going off season time during lunch, you WILL be the only patrons. However, the laal maas was excellent. ** Jaipur Modern, a cute little organic cafe set into a fancy store that sells designers that make raggedy looking cotton clothes that are nevertheless extremely well fitting and expensive. The cafe had a whole quinoa menu, which S ordered off of, but I inherently distrust Food Of The Weeks, so I got a tandoori shawarma which was--alas--just a plain old kathi roll. Good coffee though! ** Anokhi Cafe, which you already probably know about, but which is very nice and deserves a mention nevertheless.

Where to drink:

INSIDE A TRAIN

**Steam at the Rambagh Palace is inside a literal TRAIN and this made me very happy. Unfortunately I was feeling slightly under the weather so could not linger for very long, but I loved it. A TRAIN. I like bars---as I told S later--that have special theme-y things, more props if they're actually built INSIDE a replica of the theme. This may not be very adult, but drinking is adult, so I feel like that makes up for it. ** Bar Palladio at Narain Niwas is a revelation, it's all blue walls and pretty lights. The wait staff stuck us in a brightly lit back room at first, but we made a fuss and so they grumpily moved us to the front and after we ordered a bottle of (excellent) wine, they were positively cheerful.

Bar Palladio. Super trendy & run by an Italian so great food

Lovely place. Very Wes Anderson. **

Where to shop: I did not do much shopping, except for a gorgeous  maxi dress from Cottons, but S bought herself a shift maxi dress (Rasa) and a chiffon sari (Rukhmani). Since we also had a running gag that we were two old British ladies called Lavender (her) and Marigold (me), she also bought me and herself two pairs of lovely soft sleeping shorts from Anokhi, in each other's colours.

And one last word on Jaipur before I move on, compared to drinking in Delhi (I'm looking at you Perch and Piano Man!) it was positively cheap. 

Song of the week: Since I was thinking so much of old Wes and Darjeeling Limited, here's Typewriter Tip Tip Tip Tip from the OST.   Zindagi ki har kahani likhta hai.

Interesting links:  **Arundhati Roy talks to Elle about gymming and other things.** Everyone is all BIRA BEER, which is very hipster but also everyone is drinking it so less hipster and here's a story about how they have more demand than they can handle.** Related. Also WHYYY IS THIS HAPPENINGGG TO MEEEE **
"Hitler's favourite Maggi" and other Indian restaurant food trends. ** Comics illustrating people who are awkward around babies.**

(Oldies but goodies: eM's Quick Guide To Delhi Nightlife, eM's Quick Guide to Womankind, eM's Quick Guide to Being Fabulous Even With A Recession On, eM's Quick Guide To Fighting Loneliness.)

eM’s quick guide to being fabulous even with a recession on*

* even though the word ‘ recession’ is now being used as this fail-safe excuse for everything. I can’t pay you more money—there’s a recession! I can’t go out tonight—there’s a recession! I wish I loved you more, but what can I do, there’s a recession. (okay, I made the last one up, but it’s possible.)
Other eM’s quick guides here, here and here.
1) Dress cheaply but wear your clothes like they’re all designer labels. I’m serious. I went rummaging about on Hill Road and bought two dresses—cotton, one a simple box neckline, A-line fit (SO tight I have to sit up straight and not breathe in too deeply) and the other an ethnic print, strappy, low cut thing (beautiful and comfortable and soft and I want to wear it forever). I accesorised with nice shoes and some junk jewellery and, nope, no one could tell the difference. (And no one will, unless you tell them, which I always make the mistake of doing. (“Lovely outfit, eM!” “Oh thank you, I got this for a 100 rupees off Hill Road.”) Anyhoo, this way, you can go shopping whenever it pleases you and you have some nice outfits and you won’t feel so bad if they only last a few wears. The secret to this though is not to buy anything that looks like it’s been an export surplus thing. Avoid lycra or floral prints, avoid the top that you see hanging on almost every single shop, and only buy something you can see yourself spending REAL money on in a REAL shop.
2) Suss out all the openings and events in the city. At an art gallery opening, you’re bound to get a free glass of wine. Check out Facebook events, there’s usually something or the other on. You could also join a few Mumbai even mailing lists—I’m sure they’re out there—for up to date news on what’s going on where. For instance, the GQ thing I went to last week was open bar till 11 pm and was also open entry. Look like you belong (boys, wear shoes!) and nine times out of ten, no one’s going to ask for your invitation.
3) Almost every single bar has some sort of special night. Off the top of my head, ladies night happens at Zenzi on Tuesdays (one free glass of wine), Firangi Paani on Wednesdays (happy hours for girls between 8 pm to 10 pm), and Rock Bottom on Thursdays (All you can drink—all night long. Except water, you have to pay for that.) TGIF has happy hours till about 7.30, Janta is always cheap for pre-drinking, Banana Bar has loads of buy-one-get-one-free nights, all you have to do is keep track, and then you can whisk off to your next (more expensive) destination and be happy not drinking or just nursing one thing for the whole evening.
4) Bring back the fine art of the house party. I threw an EXCELLENT one last weekend, even if I do say so myself. A friend was leaving, a friend has just moved to Bombay and we had people all over the place. I told everyone to bring their own booze and I have loads of leftovers now. Plus, I think it might’ve been the seal-breaker on other parties, because I now have three to go for this weekend. And even if the ones you’re invited to are bring your own booze type, it’s still cheaper to get a bottle of White Mischief or even Smirnoff, than it is to have an equivalent night out.
5) Rediscover the ‘hobby’. FYI, the guy outside Toto’s? The DVD chap? Has some really, really good prints and pretty cheap too. I bought a whole bunch last week—boom, my week’s entertainment taken care of. If I could cook, I would be, right now. I’m spending more time writing and chilling than I ever have before, okay, so it’s out of necessity and not choice, but it’s getting easier to get used to.
Well, that’s all I can think of for the moment. Add your own money-saver fabulosity suggestions in the comments.
Ooh, and I almost forgot! This is my first post from my brand new laptop! It’s so pretty and shiny and wide-screened. I love him, I do, and his name is Holden. (As in ‘Holden’ all my information and Caulfield. I’m nerdy like that.)

eM's Quick Guide To Womankind

Sigh.

So yesterday, I learn from Jezebel was Blue Monday. Which would explain many things, especially the general aura of gloom and doom that lay bubbling over my head. Blue Monday was in great danger of turning into Blue Tuesday too, I've had Creep by Radiohead on repeat. (I wish I was SPESHUL, so fucking SPESHUL!) But then I thought why not send some cheer into the internet, because writing happy things gives me the illusion of being happy and because, hey, perhaps you're having a Blue Week too and deserve cheering up.

(Edited to add: See? See how much of a Blue Week it was? My poor Heath Ledger. My celebrity freebie person. Sniffle. And also the star of one of my all time favourite chick flicks, 10 Things I Hate About You. Wasn't he just delectable in that? The world is one piece of eye candy less and the Blue Week continues. I will miss him on screen.)

Also off Jezebel, I learn that Esquire is having a little survey where they want to know 10,000 things they DIDN'T know about women. 10,000? Easy peasy, I say. I mean, well, I'm sure I can get it up to thirty at least. (This is another one of those interactive type posts, by the way. I think I'm just getting lazy in my old age. Indulge me, please?)

So, here goes. eM's quick guide to thirty things you didn't know about women.

(Other eM's quick guides here.)


(Ooh, I almost forgot the disclaimer. Before anyone gets all boring and moany in the comments, please bear in mind a) yes, we are aware that we're generalising and b) most of these should be taken with a pinch of salt and not as the gospel truth)


1) We spray our cleavages with perfume. And, if we like you and we're on our third date and wearing a skirt, chances are we've sprayed the back of our knees too.

2) That thing you like? Not spontaneous. In fact, it took loads of practice and probably a conflab with our girlfriends using *ahem* pints of beer.

3) Most of us want babies. Even the ones who say they don't--they just don't KNOW they want babies. Some actually don't though. You figure it out.

4) WE'RE not taking so long in the loo. OTHER women are.

5) Nothing is sexier than a guy who can fix stuff.

6) Inside every woman, despite her balls of steel is someone who wants a little bit for you to think of her as a girl. This means a) not thumping her on the back and b) opening the door for her every once in a while.

7) If you've been with one of our girlfriends, we know what you're like in bed. Sometimes (okay, a lot of the time) we even know your penis size. Sorry!

8) We all have a thing we do when we're flirting. Pay attention and you'll know what it is. (Note: for me it's an eyelash dropping, big smile thing, especially when I'm drinking)

9) You're not cute when you're drunk.

10) You're cute when WE'RE drunk though.

11) Looks really really aren't that important. You've heard this a million times, be prepared for a million and one: all women really want is a guy that can make her laugh.

12) Not when you're fighting though. Hiding behind humour is the best way to head towards messy breakup.

13) We know the power of our breasts and we're not afraid to use them.

14) It's really hard balancing being tough career women and soft and gentle girlfriends/wives. Give us a break every now and then.

15) Once upon a time we've all liked Backstreet Boys/NSync/Boyzone etc. They're pretty.

16) Mmmmmmmmmm.... Musicians.

17) We're using granny panties and unwaxed legs as excuses so you won't think of us as sluts when we sleep with you on the first or second date.

18) Most of us can't cook. But it's fully bonus points if you can.

19) We can do many, many things, however. We just don't like to show off about them.

20) Like bargain. We are genetically engineered to be able to knock off the price by five to ten per cent at least.

21) We hate that we get 'slut' and you get 'player'.

22) We also hate that you're stronger than us on an average.

23) On the other hand, sometimes it's kinda sexy.

24) We are not opposed to kissing other women. Also we know it's a turn on and it's fun to manipulate you like that.

25) We know when you've been bad. It's true.

26) You're a lot like our dads. Creepy, but fact.

27) We're not going to tell you this though. And if you tell us we're like your mothers, we WILL run.

28) We're pretty much always judging you, if you're a romantic prospect.

29) We would really really like to know what happens in the minds of men.

30) And heh, inspired by an MSN conversation with scout, the clitoris is not a toy.

Go on for the afterparty in the comments. Boys, you can play too, with things we don't know about you.

eM's Quick Guide To Delhi Nightlife

It's Sunday, late afternoon and unlike the rest of you lucky sods I have work tomorrow morning. (Actually, I'm guessing whoever's abroad has to work too, but still). This sucks. This is totally UNFAIR. The world's not going to stop because the paper didn't come in Tuesday morning. Hmph.



A lot of people call/email/sms me to ask where a good place to go that night is. Trust me, I get that a lot. Work people will casually stop or ask me on the balcony, other people will say, "Ooh I have a friend in from out of town, where shall we go?" and people even call and say, "Hey I'm in Saket, what's a good place to go for dinner?" Therefore I thought to make it easier for people who don't have access to my phone number, or do and don't feel like calling, a general look at all the places in this city that I enjoy.



Now, in order to fully recommend a place, I ask people a) what sort of music they like b) what their budget is c) are they planning on doing hardcore clubbing or just sitting and chilling with a drink. And yeah, everyone knows I like Turquiose Cottage, so we won't even go there.

Cheap Booze Places

Even though Delhi's like one of the most expensive places in the world practically (It's true, I read it in one of those survey type magazines which also shows you the world's poshest loos and who the richest men are) there are still several places that give you reasonable rates on their alcohol. Also practically every restaurant has happy hours, which is very cool. We personally like the places in Defence Colony best, but we're willing to experiment.


> MB's which I've mentioned before for its awesome Dyna Bites is where I go a lot, but usually with just one other friend. It's not a crowd kind of place.


> 4 S (and that's not fours, that's Four. Ess.) is a Chinese/Thai place K and I discovered, also in the Def. Col. Market. We were poverty stricken college students then, K didn't have the car that day so we couldn't go to the Supper Factory like we always did and so we sauntered into 4 S and made it our own. Pretty soon, we started bringing other people there and they claimed it too and for a while back there, we could find people tanking up at 4 S all the time. In fact, I even went two Sundays ago and bumped into an old school friend and her (very cute) brother. Anyway. It's damn cheap and they have this thing called chilli potatos which is bloody excellent.


> Flames, also I've mentioned before, in GKII M-Block Market, which incidentally is where I might be going tonight. Cheap alcohol, music in the background and non-shady. In fact, all of these places are certified Non-Shady by me, because I know how wierd it is to be the only women in a bar and have all these lechy guys looking at you. Stay clear of Bacchus in Priya Complex for precisely that reason.

For The Music

And then there are the places you visit when you have a little money in your pocket, for the ambience and the music and the dressing up beforehand. It depends on your mood I agree, and since I love rock and roll (so put another dime in the jukebox, baby) I love TC. But there are times I want to shake my booty a little, get a little more dressed up and all that.

> So yeah, nothing, and I mean underlined, bold, itals nothing in this city beats Elevate. It's in Noida, in the Centre Stage Mall, it's massive and I love it. The cover can be a little steep, 500 a couple on Fridays and 1,000 on Saturdays, but worth. every. single. rupee. Saturday is Bollywood/hip-hop night which is when we usually go, coz c'mon grinding to Kajra Re is such fun. And we can get all dressed up, or not, depending on our moods and the best part is that it stays open till sunrise unlike the rest of this town so we leave for there around 11.30, 12 and come back, on aching feet, yawning at four or five.

> There's a bunch of other places that I club together when we're not in an Elevate mood. Agni at the Park has killer Christmas parties. We went there last Christmas Eve, straight from TC, Iggy and I both wearing Santa hats. She got to dance on the bar though and I was left babysitting her sister and her friends. Oh well. Then there's Nasha, where you should go only if the very hot DJ Iggy is playing. Oh, he's hot. Let's take a moment to appreciate his hotness. And then there's Fabric, but I think that's pretty sad now. They play hip-hop and trance and we went for their launch party and there was such a gignormous crowd that we waited in our finery in a line in the heat for like an hour before they let us in. But then we consumed many free vodka shots and each of us got lost and it was drunken. Ooh and there's Aura, which also I've spoken of before, the vodka bar at the Claridges? It plays great house music and has good drinks except they're letting it flood with teeny boppers and I'm talking fifteen year olds. The party crowd in this city gets younger and younger, I tell you.

> I also really like Buzz in Saket. DJ Keri who plays there is the only woman DJ in town and she spins some excellent hip-hop and oldies and Bollywood. This American intern I once worked with claimed to have a scene with her, so I'm reminded of that every time I go there. Their cocktails are great, by the way and they have happy hours till 7.30, so get a Bloody Mary, coz you get two and they're soooooooooo good. And they give you free peanuts!

> There's this one place I've been meaning to check out called Cafe Morrison in South Ex. Does anyone have any views on that?

Phew. This is quite a list. I'll update if I can think of more. Feel free to suggest whatever, and I'll add that to the list!

ps. Have you been to Overheard In New York? It's such fun and people are always saying stuff that I wish I had thought of first. Like this conversation:

Girl: You staring at me?

Guy: Yeah, but only 'cause you look so fine.

Girl: True. But you can stop checking me out now. These aren't public titties, they're private titties. For select audiences only, and you're not a member.
--A train

We should totally design a Members Only t-shirt. White, tight with red letters. And I'm totally going to track down this girl and make her my new best friend.

ps2: Found this lying on the floor of my office the other day. It's a press release which someone had obviously recieved and thrown away. It announces a solo singing competition held at St. Mark's Senior Secondary Public School.

Inter Section Solo singing Competition for classes V and VI was held on 9th May 2005.

The students filled the atmosphere with their soulful scintillating numbers such as "All That She Wants", "Omit Playing Games", "O Blady O Blada." The judges on this ocassion were Ms. Seema and Mr. Berganza, who gave away prizes and certificates to the students.

The students talent was well nurtured and everybody appreciated the efforts made by tiny ones under the guidance of their music - teacher.

I ask you, how, how could someone throw this away?