Pondicherry is as I've mentioned not like anywhere else you will see in India. Nevertheless, it still is very much India under the skin. As you walk around you still see the poverty, smell the smells, although there are major differences. The place has more money. There is far less litter and for the first time I have seen, there are people employed to clean the streets. Generally women. This is another far cry from westernised society. The type of manual jobs Indian women do. They work building the roads, they carry bricks and heavy cumbersome loads on their heads and so much more.
We arrived at the fresh pastry place for breakfast. It was like a cafe you'd see down the country in Ireland. As we sat waiting for our selection of delectables, the power went off. In no time at all we were sitting there sweating. A family that had arrived after us just stood up and left. It's another thing you forget or take for granted in Ireland. The auld leci. I remember when I was a kid loving when the power went off. In India it's a tad different. Sometimes it goes off 4 or 5 times a day and up to 6 hours off. Can you imagine trying to run a business with that type of shit going on. Since we arrived I say that I have experienced 20 days when the power has gone off a least once. 5 minutes later the fans were whirring above our very grateful and sweaty bodies. Ian at one point had nearly looked like he was going to pass out.
When I got back after breakfast I resided to do some more sweet hammock action. Ian was already back swinging away. The rest of the lads were up and talking about where they were going to head. By the time they got themselves together I agreed I'd join them for a coffee. Ian headed into lie down. As we were leaving we Greg who joined our little possie. We headed to Le Cafe on the seafront. Even though it was only 3 hours after eating a large breakfast, I ordered some food as well. Another thing for anyone that visits India, is to realise a generic difference in communication. One I don't believe to bet a language thing. It seems that a lot of things are based on a set of standard rules and changing these causes a lot of problems. On example was as simple as ordering, extra chicken, as listed in the menu, on a grilled cheese and butter baguette. Having an extra head would have got a less surprised and confused look. We explained we wanted the chicken inside the baguette. He suggested we order a chicken salad instead. After 5 minutes of hand signals and pointing at the menu, I got impatient and went inside with the menu to speak to the chef. Of course, was the response, with the usual little head bop. This is just one example, another one is traveling around. You need to know to ask the right questions or alternative answers will not be offered. This can be quite infuriating. I suggest always ask, “Is there any other option?” then ask the same question again, and once more to be totally sure.
I dropped into the internet café as we walked to the hotel. Within ten minutes I crashed one of the computers after installing Skype. I think the computer was too old. I got it all working on the next PC with Picasa installed also. When uploading photos and ringing people three hours fly by. I suppose for me this fairly minor. The cafe was a tiny little old room with 3 PCs. Every where we have being so far, has some form of internet connection. Handy for keeping in touch. Its probably a good idea to have you own headset if possible as you can always install Skype where you go.
By the time I got up to our rooms Aidan, Ian and Greg had headed to the post office to lighten there bags by sending some of there stuff home. Eoghan was swinging away reading his book and Peter was in catching some sleep. I jumped into the other hammock and caught up on my book that I have being neglecting on for some time. It was a couple hours before Ian returned. He was livid. The postal office experience was one that had driven him half insane. It takes a lot to get Ian going although he was still raging from the experience. They had gone off to get their items packaged. This had taken over an hour, as the woman had to hand sew material on the outside of the box. He was then left to wait in a queue in the post office for 75 minutes. They guy behind the counter kept serving other people first and telling Ian to wait. After trying to get the mans attention on numerous occasions, Ian finally got a Post Office manager and told him how angry he was being made wait like this. The manager started screaming at the now sheepish man behind the counter. Within five minutes Ian was served and out of there. An hour later Greg came back with pretty much the same story and was furious at how he was treated in the post office. I think there is an underlying sentiment of racism with a lot of Indians, which is understandable from where they come from in their history. White man has done the people of the country few favours over the years.
After Greg calmed down, we packed our bags and agreed to make it to the main Pondcherry bus stand for near to 7pm. We made our farewells and jumped into a rickshaw. The bus stand is beyond manic, as we had realised upon our first visit to it. We found an incredibly helpful man at the information desk. He proceeded to walk us around the platform looking for our bus to Auroville. To little avail, as bus conductor ignored his questions. It's not the first time I have seen this where you get ignored as if you don't even exist. Not sure if the cast system or what it is although you see it. He informed us that the bus was at 7.30pm and to wait around. Greg checked around 15 minutes before we were to leave and found our bus. The bus was jammed and we found a couple of seats near the front of the bus. An Indian lady sitting to my right tried to make conversation, as the bus plowed through the busy streets. She was lovely and gave me advice on how much to pay. This still didn't stop the conductor charging us twice the price. As we fished our way through the hectic streets more and more people piled on board. Greg stood up to give his seat to an elderly gentleman and then proceeded to worry about his possessions as he got bumped and shoved from left to right by the crowd.
The bus dropped us off at Auroville main street. It had just got dark and the main road was filled with beeping cars as the raced by us. We asked a man at the nearby shop stand where we where and he showed us our place on a map. We appeared to be a stones throw from the beach. So with a sense of direction we headed off down a dark alley way in the direction of our beach. We had gotten some tips that there were a few resorts nearby so we felt we could find somewhere to crash for the night. As we walked along we noticed a whitey, through a gateway. Who else but our Norwegian friend Lisa was getting assistance starting her moped. I called out to her and she turned and smiled welcomingly. She showed us the interior of her beach hut. It was raised on stilts, was made from bamboo, wood and roofed with a collection of large leaves. It came with electricity and its own mossie net. I thought it was quite charming although Greg was not that impressed. We thanked her and told her we'd probably see her the next day. We saw another place next store that was over priced and of a fairly poor standard. As we walked back towards the main road a gentleman with a torch called after us, to come back. We kept walking and then as he persisted, we stopped until he caught up with us. Thankfully, as 10 minute later we got our own boat converted into a beach hut for only 230rps between us. It had its own shower room, living room and big enough bedroom with mossie net, fans and electricity.
After hanging my hammock, settling in we headed to the main street to look for some food. Upon our landlords recommendation we went to checkout the Roof Top restaurant a few doors down from where we were staying. It was a few garden chairs and table sitting outside an old building. The man there confirmed to the rather amazed me, yes it wasthe roof top restaurant. As you can imagine we didn't stay. We went back to the main street. As we walked along, I noticed a fairly modern sign for somewhere nearby called the Third Eye, so we headed there. First impressions were good until the menus arrived. The prices were near to double the prices we had being paying up to this stage. The manager came over and offered us a 20% discount immediately. We declined politely and excused ourselves. He then pulled uot anntoher business card offering the cheapest airfares that we'd find both national and international. We laughed to each other as we descended the stairs wondering what type of prices could he be offering if his food was anything to go by. After checking another few places we found a small empty although spotlessly clean place, upstairs along the main road.
As we sat down in our seats and given menus, some Westlife began playing on the stereo in the back. Good to see they know what us westerners like. The meal was mediocre. The Fanta was over sweet, obviously having sat around for way too long. The coffee was a bad choice after the meal, with it tasting incredibly sour. We complained that the milk was bad and as you can imagine this ensued a broken english conversation of stating it wasn't. Funny enough after insisting it was and asking for a new coffee and tea, without milk, we learnt that the coffee was exceptonally sour and had being sitting around for the whole day. We paid up and headed back to the boat. Greg headed to bed and I jumped into my hammock to read my book and ring my handsome gostoso to wish him good night. An hour later I cluimbed into bed.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment