Weekend in Pondicherry

Sarah, in her inimitable way, decided that we shouldn't spend our weekend sitting in the YWCA.  We should go to Pondicherry for an outing.  Not only that, since we clearly shouldn't be wandering around alone, she was sending us in the company of some friends of hers, a couple from Sri Lanka.  She invited them to the Y for breakfast so that we could meet and recognize each other.  (They already had bus tickets which would get them there at 8am, and Sarah had arranged for our previous driver Natan (not the Natan who owns the car business, a different one) to drive me and Vindya down, arriving at around noon.  She thought this would be better, since we could have a good night sleep and breakfast, as well as a comfortable ride.  As usual, she was right.)

Pondicherry was a French colony, not an English one, up until independence, and is still a kind of special administrative area within Tamil Nadu.  As far as I could tell from the guidebook, there wasn't anything really exciting to see there, but on the coast between Chennai and Pondicherry are amazing archaeological ruins, and I had agreed with Wije (pronounced VJ) and Guy (his wife, whose name is much longer but she said just to go with that) that we would stop on the way back and see it all together.

Saturday morning, we got up and headed out.  We hadn't been on the road very long before Wije called.  They had arrived much earlier than expected, about 4am.  The guesthouse that Sarah had sent us to was closed up tight, with no one at the gate.  (This is unusual in India, even for a private house.)  They had hired an auto rickshaw to drive them around Pondicherry, stopping at each hotel and guesthouse until they found one with vacancies.  Wije said that he tried to negotiate with them, but they told him it was out of the question on weekends.  During the week they had vacancies, and were willing to haggle, but on the weekends so many people came down from Chennai that it wasn't worth it to them.  So he booked two rooms near each other, and called me.  I let him talk to Natan, and he got the directions/address clear.

The drive was uneventful.  Pretty much the only thing that happened was that Natan stopped at a police station to buy a special license.  He said that the car is licensed only in Tamil Nadu, and wasn't allowed to drive anywhere else without a permit.  From what he said, this is standard.  It is also standard for Indian drivers to ignore this rule unless stopped by the police.  However, it's a policy of the car agency to get the license, so he did.  

Once in Pondicherry, we located the hotel.  It is brand new - the restaurant hasn't opened yet.  They had a bit of an unusual set up.  The building fronts directly onto the sidewalk, without a courtyard or garden, which seemed typical in that part of town.  There was a door to the lobby, which was very small, but air conditioned.  Once we registered and paid, we went back outside, past the ramp leading down to the underground parking garage, and to an elevator that opened directly onto the sidewalk.  The logic seemed to be that no one who wasn't a hotel guest would take the elevator, or climb the stairs that were the next door over.  (I did ask, and there seem to be vague plans to make the door to the stairs and the elevator require a key card to work, but that hasn't happened yet.)  As it was, we din't have any trouble.  

The rooms were small, but clean. One odd feature was the bathroom.  This was about a step up from the room, and was the length of the room and about 2 feet wide.  The entire thing was the shower stall, and turning on the shower got the entire place drenched.  Luckily, everything in it was designed to get drenched, because Vindya managed to turn on the shower trying to wash her hands.  I am apparently the only person who found this set-up unusual.

We came down and met Wije and Guy, and had a quick breakfast.  Consulting the guidebook, we decided to head for Auroville, the new age community dedicated to the guru Aurobindo.  This is a little way out of town, along very narrow, unpaved roads.  All along were shops with some variant of "auro" in their names.  Our guess was that they had nothing to do with the guru at all.  We saw lots of textiles, quilts and brightly colored crafts, but didn't stop.

Guy owns a boutique in Sri Lanka, and had come to India on a buying trip.  She also has a very sharp eye for beauty, so we stopped a lot to let Wije photograph things for her.  She was drawn to interesting color combinations and natural forms, and we saw quite a few things that I might have otherwise passed by.  There is a combination of orange and green that buildings are often painted in that area that I have not seen elsewhere.  They aren't colors that I would have put together, kind of a pale lime and a tangerine, but they look lovely together, and appropriate to a tropical climate.  She also had us stop to look at some really interesting old fashioned thatched huts.  They were only about 4 feet high.  They are only used for sleeping, and even families who have a concrete house with a metal roof will have one in the yard, because it is cooler and more comfortable.

When we got to Auroville, we had missed the last organized tour of the day, so we just wandered.  We went in and out of boutiques - lots of organic clothing, handmade paper, jewelry, etc. - and we had ice cream and drinks at a tea room.  From what we read on the signs and such around us, the residents tolerate day-trippers, but really prefer visitors to stay for a month or more, living in one of their houses and participating fully in their life.  We chatted a bit with several European college students who were doing just that.  They were very enthusiastic about the deep feeling of community and the peacefulness of the lives there, but didn't seem to be making plans to stay.  From what they said, most of the permanent residents are retirees from the west, with only a few Indians.  Most of the workers we saw were hired locals.

Back in Pondicherry, we wandered around some more.  We went to the museum, which was fascinating.  There are Roman coins from Tiberius, and other trade goods indicating that Pondicherry was part of a far-flung trade network.  Sadly, Vindya had a fit before I could look into the local sculpture more deeply.  I took her out, and we sat outside while Wije and Guy finished the tour.

I had not understood why Sarah thought we should go there, but it was very different from Chennai, and very French.  In the Old Quarter, it felt like New Orleans.  All the street signs were in French, and the police officers all wore kepis.  (We saw this first hand quite frequently, because every police officer pulled us over to check our registration.  Natan told us that on the spot payments from drivers without the proper permit are a big part of their income.  They seemed disappointed that we had the right papers, and not inclined to let us take pictures of the kepis.)

We wandered around most of the old city on foot, as it isn't large.  It was after dark, but still warm, and there were lots of people and light.  We found Aurobindo's ashram, and went in.  They made us take our shoes off and leave them across the street, and maintain strict silence inside.  It is basically a courtyard with a fountain and lovely container gardens, and a series of rooms around it.  Most of these were roped off, but we could stand at the doorway and look in.  In an inner courtyard is the tomb of the guru, which was covered in flowers.  It looked like a Tibetan mandala made of flowers rather than sand.  It was surrounded by worshipers, some of whom were kneeling with their heads and arms on the tomb, others were sitting around them about 15 feet deep.  There was some kind of incense, and total silence.  Even Vindya (thank goodness!) didn't make any noise.  The whole place was really very tranquil.  We sat by the fountain for a while, declined to purchase any of the books for sale the room by the exit, and left.

Walking down the street, we passed under the huge carved and painted gateway that marks the entrance to a temple area.  It was packed with people coming and going.  Suddenly, the crowd opened up in front of us, and there was an elephant, the first live elephant I've seen in India!  I was excited, more so when I saw that people were taking turns to get up on it.  Vindya took one look and totally lost it, screaming in terror.  There went any thoughts of getting a picture of her on the elephant.  My hopes were further dashed when Wije informed me, after chatting with the mahout, that the photo op on the actual elephant was limited to children under 10.  He did take a picture of me standing next to the elephant, and then we took Vindya away.  By the end of the block, she was all smiles, and telling us, with descriptive gestures, all about her great adventure with the elephant.

After that, we ended up on the beach.  Vindya found the Indian Ocean very interesting.  We figured she had never seen it before.  There were lots of people walking up and down, and it was really nice and pleasant out.  There were peddlers about, and Wije bought Vindya a bird thing that shot out streamers and made noise when she blew on it.  Heaven!  She ran up and down the sand, laughing and blowing and pointing at all the other kids with the same toy.  We ended up eating at a street vendor next to the Gandhi memorial.  I made sure to order only things that were fried in hot oil right in front of us, and hoped that would keep me from getting sick.  (It did, at least, I wasn't sick.)  Then we went back to the hotel.

Sunday morning, once we got up we checked with Wije and Guy.  They had no real plans either, so we decided to have breakfast in a French patisserie and then get on the road.  We wanted to have plenty of time in Mahabalipuram.  

We headed back north, and Vindya was on.  Coming down she had mostly slept, but now, with an audience, she was determined to be the center of attention.  (This is a bad habit of hers, one that I suspect comes from fierce competition for adult attention at the sisuvihar.  She cannot let the spotlight wander, no matter what.  We have had many little "chats" about sitting quietly while adults talk, with the result that, when adults are talking, she stands up and makes a speech about sitting quietly while adults talk.  Its a "growing edge.")  Today, for some reason, she hit on the English alphabet.  "A for apple; B for ball!"  She knows the whole thing, all the way down to "Zed for zebra!"  We went through it again and again, to the point where I was ready to scream, but Wije and Guy have more patience than I do for this sort of thing.  

We did have the opportunity to chat while Vindya focused on one or the other of them.  Guy asked me several times to come and visit them in Sri Lanka.  They live in Kandy, the ancient capital, which is more or less in the center of the island.  It is about 500 m above sea level, so it isn't as hot as India.  They have a nice house, not large, but they have beautiful natural things.  There are mango, papaya, coconut and other trees where they get fruits, and  a quiet, shady garden.  Guy particularly asked about my parents.  When I told her that they are retired, she said that they must come.  Their home is perfect for retired people, as it is a place of peace.  But to travel so far, it is best to come for a significant time, not only a day or two.  So, Mom and Dad, next time you have a free month, you're booked for a vacation in Sri Lanka.

It turns out that Wije is currently a freelance French teacher, but he was for many years a senior steward on Air Ceylon, based in the Mid-East.  He made a lot of money doing that, which enables them to live quite happily.  He also made friends all over the world.  They visit France every year for at least a couple of months, Dubai, India, and make less frequent visits to other places.  They have a son who lives in Bristol, where he works at the zoo as some kind of specialist vet, and another son and daughter in Colombo.  

As we were driving, we heard a lot of noise ahead of us, drums, pipes and people.  There was a Hindu temple off to the side of the road, and a huge crowd was gathered.  Natan pulled over, and we went back to look.  There was a tall pole set up, and a thing at the top that spun around.  Ropes came down from this, ending in giant fish hooks, and these were threaded into the backs of various people, who were then spun around the pole in a human version of the giant swing from the state fair.  There was a huge fire burning nearby, and Natan, after chatting with some people told us that was for step 2.  The people who were being spun around were petitioning the god for something, mostly, from what he could tell, they were childless couples, going up two at a time.  After everyone had been spun around (with huge fishhooks threaded through their back muscles don't forget), the white hot coals would be spread out and they would walk over them.  We watched a few pairs go up, and since it seemed to be something that would go on all day, we left.

We kept going and finally arrived at Mahabalipuram.  Google it, seriously.  I had heard about it, but nothing I heard did it justice.  Since Sunday is most people's day off, there were lots of people there.  Vindya loved it, there are no pesky ropes or fences keeping people off the monuments, and she ran from one to the next, climbed all over things, and played hide and seek with great delight.  Only the mysterious disappearance of the noisy whistling bird thing (vanished in the night - quelle surprise!) marred her perfect enjoyment.  I was just struck speechless (if you can imagine that) by the amazing sculptures.  I had wanted to see the temples unearthed by the tsunami, and I'm not sure I did, there was so much going on.  We did see at least one shore temple, and also boys surfing.

I should put in a word here for our driver, Natan.  He was perfectly friendly and pleasant to me driving down to Pondicherry, but I could tell when we met up with Wije and Guy that he was a bit taken aback.  Wije explained all, including throwing in the tidbit that Sarah stayed at their house when she came to Sri Lanka.  At this information, you could see him snap to attention, and from that moment on, his service was exemplary.  I have absolutely no complaint about how he behaved before that, but afterwards, he was amazing.  Even among all the crowds at Mahabalipuram, he would pop up in front of us as we exited each momument, and produce the car to drive us to the next one.  (The monuments are scattered around a pretty large area, all packed with people and parked cars.  I really don't know how he did it.)  At one point, we came out of one of the temples and were looking out over a sea of people, and I realized that I had left my cell phone in the car, so we couldn't call him.  Wije was worried about what we should do next, and Vindya was tired and hot, so I was carrying her, and didn't want to do that for too much longer.  I said, half joking, that I was going to stand right where I was and wait for Natan to appear.  Wije was scoffing at this "plan," when Guy said, "Here he is!"  And he was.  He also found us a really nice place to eat - a restaurant on a little hill looking over the ocean, with wide verandas that caught the breezes and delicious seafood curries.  And ice cream, Vindya's one true desire.

When we finally got back to Chennai, we agreed that Natan should drop Wije and Guy off where they were staying with a friend.  He pulled me aside to tell me that Wije wanted to pay half the fee for the trip back, and was that OK?  I said yes (since that is what we had agreed to) and he looked relieved.  Wije collected my email address.  We were all quite happy that here we were, total strangers met up by chance, and yet we travelled together very happily and were very compatible types.  They are really very nice people, so if anyone reading this has the urge to go to Sri Lanka, let me know!

Vindya cried and cried when we left them, only partially appeased by their parting gift of an Indian cooking set in plastic.  She unpacked it all, still crying, and started setting it up on the back seat.  I had asked Natan to take me to a bookstore, and suggested that a mall would probably have a good one.  (I needed my next fix of The Economist.  Really, I don't know how I ever would have survived without it.)  Wije called to say that they had consulted their friend, and he gave Natan the location of the most likely mall.

When we got to the mall, Natan got out of the car.  Vindya was still crying, but he picked her up and carried her and she stopped.  (He has a daughter about the same age, and knows how to bounce little girls.)  He got us in and oriented.  This was not one of the fancy "world-class" malls like we had seen in Hyderabad, but a regular, middle class Indian mall.  It was not air conditioned, but was open on the ground floor, and had a large central atrium with fans to move the air around.  He checked with the information desk about the bookstore, and pointed me in the right direction, and said he would be back at the car.

I took Vindya back and we headed for the bookstore.  No sooner did we arrive than she started to cry again.  I found The Economist and went to stand in line to pay.  Vindya increased the volume.  I was contemplating giving up or asking the people in front to let us go ahead (thy were all turned around staring at us anyway) when Natan reappeared and took Vindya away.  "V for Vindya, I for Ice Cream" he said, and Vindya instantly stopped crying and lit up in a happy smile.  He walked her out of the store, and I went back to standing in line.  The girl in front of my was open-mouthed in amazement, and I wish I could have thought of something to say to her.  Instead I just waited my turn and paid for the magazine, as if this happened to me every day.

I tracked them down at the ice cream stand and bought us each a cone.  Natan was cheerful, and took us back to the Y.  We agreed that he would pick me up Tuesday morning for my early morning trip to the airport, and said our goodbyes.  Vindya tried crying a little, but I looked at her firmly and said, "No TV."  That brought instant silence.  She's a smart little cookie.