Pondicherry

Pondicherry

It’s only about an hour to Pondicherry from Mamallapuram so we thought we would catch a taxi and relax. We contacted the driver who brought us from Chennai and he agreed to take us. He was a rare find as drivers go in that he actually drove quite steadily and took his time which is very pleasant.

So we are cruising along enjoying the drive through the lush countryside of Tamil Nadu when one of the fan belts decides to call it a day. So we pull in to the side of the road to assess the situation. Fortunately our driver has a spare and he searches for his spanners, only to find that he doesn't have one that fits. He decides to flag down a guy on a motorbike to take him to find one which he does.

While he is gone Ange and I hang out with the car on the side of the road. One of the things that happens in India is that if there is any kind of event happening that involves goras it will usually draw a crowd. So here we are two goras in the middle of nowhere with a taxi with the bonnet up. So before long we have drawn a crowd, motorcycles are stopping people are coming out of fields all to have a look at whets happening.

Shortly our driver returns with spanners and sets about trying to install the new fan belt, along with a crowd of seven onlookers over his shoulder all offering him advice and telling him how to do it. The car is on of the classic old Ambassadors that are used a lot here and not that friendly when it comes to on the go mechanics.

Having the mechanical ability of a small rock I stay away from the proceedings and provide key turning services as required, this is probably my greatest strength in the car knowledge related area. While I am standing next to the car awaiting my next command to 'turn!' I spy a woman walking out of a field with a large pile on her head. She turns and heads down the road towards us. I climb back in the car to do my bit and eventually I look up and there she is standing outside the window looking in at me.

I smile and say hello and of course beyond hello my knowledge of Tamil starts to fade rapidly into nothing. She of course knows no English at all so I leave it at that. Strangely she stays and stands and stares, which after a while is a little creepy. I am no longer needed as chief key turner so I decide to get out of the car and go and sit on the concrete wall with Ange. By now the woman has taken the huge basket of laundry from her head and she makes her way over to come and sit on the wall near us.

She continues to look at me and I am doing my best to engage Ange in conversation about things other than the woman. Ange of course thinks it’s hilarious. I eventually turn around and look at her again and she shyly looks away quickly, oh my god Ange is right, she really likes me it would seem. This is sooooo weird. I head off back to the car to carry out some more key turning duties or anything that will remove me from the situation. Meanwhile my new friend gestures to Ange whether we are married or not, Ange replies that we are which doesn't seem to dampen the woman’s ardor. The woman remains next to mea and to Angela's amusement continues to flirt.

How long should it really take to fix a fan belt? Well this seemed to take forever! particularly given my new suitor. Eventually our taxi man realises that he needs another spanner, so to my relief we climb into the taxi and head off happily waving goodbye to my new friend and any remaining onlookers.

We manage to drive the short distance to a shed belonging to a man that had something to do with very large tyres, who possibly hadn't had any business since 1975, who has more tools. Another 30 mins and we are on the road. So what should have been a one hour trip turned into the best part of three. Ah India, nothing happens as you think it will or should.

We arrive in Pondi, as it is affectionately known, and find that the accommodation gods have once again smiled on us and we have a better than average room for our three night stay, and we are right in the centre of town giving us easy access to both French and Indian sides of the town.

One of the things that we had been looking slightly forward to was the prospect of some different food and the possibility of wine, and at a reasonable price. So after going out for a stroll in the late afternoon I set off in search of the often elusive wine shop, most of the time it is a misnomer as they sell everything but wine, however I set off in the now torrential rain to track down a bottle of something. After a considerable trek in what seemed like concentric circles, I find a shop that has an OK selection and go in to peruse. I am actually invited into the main shop which is rare as most don't seem to allow Indians into the main shop, I think they may get to excited or something, I am not sure.

We had been told that wine was a lot cheaper here due to no tax, and it is sort of true however a bottle of good old Piat D'Or was the best part of Rs600 (AUD$18) which is a little over the top. So either heading up in price or into Indian wine territory which is often rocky at best I settle on the Piat and head home, only stopping for a visit to a great little supermarket (there are very few of these anywhere) that sells many things you would expect in a supermarket. To my delight they have cheeses and not just paneer or processed cheese which is the norm. They actually have handmade cheeses from a place called Auroville, which is a nearby large scale spiritual living and United Nations non-political experiment. I won't go into it but I would recommend that you Google Auroville and read about it.

There is feta, cheddar, blue cheese, parmesan, gouda things that I had long ago heard of but had not seen for some time. I choose a blue, a cheddar and gouda and head off home. The rain had not let up so we hunker down in the room and enjoy the wine and cheese and a thing called a television that apparently was invented a long time ago, with pictures and talking and everything, amazing really. I don't think it will catch on though as I think it would get to boring after a while.

Our entertainment for the evening was the Indian version of the Oscars that was held in Mauritius, this proved to be very entertaining. The most interesting was a category for the best actor in a negative role. This is a classification that we don't have as far as I know where an actor plays a part that is villainous or as a human being acting negatively in some way.

Later that night the rain abates and we decide to head out to check out a bit of night time Pondi. We find our way to a wonderful courtyard restaurant called Satsanga which is mainly French. The most exciting part of the menu for me was the appearance of the rocket salad. So without further ado I ordered one to go with a piece of holy cow cooked medium rare. It arrived and to my surprise it was dressed with paneer, no mention on the menu, but there you go, they do love their paneer.

After enjoying a wonderful meal we head to an artists gallery come bar and general hang out called Le Space. This is upstairs on a very funky, and I mean funky rooftop. Ambiently it is par excellence as long as you can find a spot to sit that isn't near one of the holes in the roof of which there are many. Not to say that this dampens the experience it just means sometimes some creative seating arrangements or sitting positions in order to avoid the water coming through.

Eventually its time to head home and the heavens are dumping every drop of rain that they have on Pondicherry. We walk downstairs and expect to see the usual queue of rickshaws and of course there are none. Angela then says 'wow no rickshaws' and out of the back of a bicycle rickshaw that is parked on the opposite side of the road covered in plastic appears a small plastic clad man. Who says 'rickshaw'? It wasn’t exactly what we had in mind but the choices were none so in we hopped as he tried to fix some plastic over the back seat. Our ardent driver is an absolute picture standing there in his makeshift plastic coat made out of bags and a plastic hotel issue shower cap.

As we head off into the night with our valiant driver peddling through the pouring rain he does his best to make conversation with us. He tells us he has three children to keep and hence he is out in the middle of the night to earn every rupee he can. We are both touched by this man's grace and his nobility in his service to us. After a very wet 15 minute ride we arrive at our hotel, our agreed price for it was Rs20, about 70 cents. I hand him Rs100 and thanked him, sometimes words and money are useless to express things, people at their best are just amazing.

Exploring the two sides of Pondi is fascinating, the Indian side is well, Indian as I would expect it to be, loud noisy chaotic etc etc. You can literally cross from one street into another and it is like entering a completely different world. To begin with the French quarter streets have name plates that state the name of the street in French which is just amazing, not that it is written in French, but that they actually have street name plates, most of the time in India you have no idea what the name of a street is at all.

Walking these streets, particularly on a Sunday is an absolute pleasure. Many are thickly tree lined and shady, with hardly any traffic. Often sleeping bicycle rickshaw drivers can be spotted flopped in the back of their vehicles enjoying some sleep in the peace and quiet. There are also lovely French style buildings and shop fronts and some truly remarkable hotels. Here someone could live and almost believe they were in France, almost. I wondered sometimes and never got the chance to ask an Indian who lived there, what they thought of French side of town and how it differed, I would love to know how they saw it. To me and my western influenced mind obviously find it preferable but the Indians have seen it and prefer a completely different picture, thus the two don't really blend.

The promenade in Pondi is a lovely feature and being able to walk along and enjoy the sea breezes could be one of the saving graces of this place. In the centre next to Le Cafe, a very good place for lunch and coffee is a large statue of Ghandi, he really is everywhere here, in most places there is some reference via statue or an MG road or something, the impact of this man was clearly enormous.

There are a number of ashrams around Pondi which are popular to people to stay and visit however we didn't make it to any. In fact all in all we didn’t get to see a great deal of Pondi as the rains were so heavy. Hence we decided to head off west across the country to a place called Varkala in the south of Kerala. It's about a 14 hour train ride from a station just outside Pondi.