Pondicherry, Pancakes, Pendants, and Puke

This weekend we went to the town of Pondicherry, a coastal town steeped in French influences (think New Orleans meets the Taj Mahal). The town is about a 5 hour bus trip from Vellore and well worth it. We went with about a dozen other international students, mostly American, and with the exception of a lone guy from Kansas, wholly female. We ate some good food for dinner, ridiculously expensive by Indian standards but right around 10 US dollars. We have all been missing vegetables pretty badly. Both our taste buds and our bowels have noticed their absence. There are vegetables here but they are either fried (i.e Gobi 65 which is fried cauliflower pieces…what?!) or minced and slathered in so many spices and sauce that they are difficult to distinguish. So in Pondicherry with all of its western flare, we were able to order a giant bowl of veggies that made my weekend! We also tried chilled Red Indian wine which was almost as expensive as our meal and very Sangria like. During dinner Elena realized that the chain of her necklace broke and her pendant was gone. The pendant was her grandmother’s engagement diamond that was placed with other diamonds in a pendant. Her grandpa gave this to her a few months ago after her grandmother passes away. So needless to say, she was devastated. We got out our flashlights and looked all over the restaurant, looking ridiculous. Then we attempted to retrace our steps, but since we walked all over town and the streets were broken and littered we didn’t have much hope. After some time Elena trailed behind, crying and devastated. The other girls had walked on and were standing in the street waiting on us. All of the sudden we heard screams and running. A girl from Kansas had found the pendant faced down in the middle of street near where she had stopped!!!! It was an awesome moment. I mean how cool is God, really!!! After the jubilation, we ventured to our hostel which offered two rooms each with a double bed for a large group of us. This got us a referral to another hostel on another street with no name, but at least we knew it was building number 32. After some looking and an offer from a French businessman on vacation to put the girls and the guy...hmmm …up for the night, we found our building. It ended up being a Muslim man’s house. It had many marbled levels of empty rooms and was the most extravagant residence any of us has seen here. We got ready for bed and lay exhaustedly down on giant beds that were essentially wooden planks with glorified lawn furniture pads on top. There were no sheets and the pillows each weighed about 8 pounds and were about as soft as a rucksack of flour, oh and dirty. Apparently friends who are more seasoned travelers told us that this is very standard so we have much more of it to look forward to in the coming weeks. The next day we went to an ideallic rooftop brunch spot for whole wheat pancakes with honey and butter and freshly blended pineapple juice. I do believe that they were the most amazing pancakes I have ever eaten. Funny that the best American breakfast I have had was in a French colonial town in India! The rest of the day was spent shopping and visiting an Ashram filled with flowers and Indians worshipping the spirit and the teachings of The Mother. We spent dinner at a funky tappas bar called Le Space Café and experienced India’s finest mojito. It was a bit subpar due to over mincing of the mint leaves, but after some general instruction to the bartender, they were quite tasty and Elena feels that this contribution to the Indian cocktails (which are actually taboo everywhere but tourist hot spots) will forever be likened to Mother Theresa’s work with orphans.
Sunday was spent traveling to the temple town of Gingee. There we trekked through the ruins of a palace and hiked up a small mountain of stone steps to a gorgeous crumbling temple. It was awesome. The process of getting home was a little less awesome however. After walking several kilometers with all of our weekend luggage in Pondicherry, then the mountain hike, and another 2 kilometer walk to the bus stand, we waited for over two hours for our bus. For some reason they kept cancelling the bus that would take us home, though the bus that would take us the opposite direction continued to run regularly. We waited with thousands of other Indians, some selling fried snacks, some begging food and money, all staring at the white kids. The highlight for me was standing next to a bus that approached where a woman in a saree with a child stepped out and puked several times at my feet. Awesome. Just awesome. The buses in India are so hot and crowded (often dozens of people standing in the isle for several hours), the roads so poor and bumpy and food being peddled at each station so fried and greasy that we have unfortunately learned that it is quite common for travelers to puke out of windows and in parking lots at any point during their bus travel. It has made for a new kind of awareness when traveling that’s for sure! After hours of standing, our bus finally arrived. It was so sought after due to multiple cancellations that people sprinted at the bus and were literally hanging out of windows and holding on to the side. Fearing for our life and resenting our lack of upper body strength the Vellore four opted for $25 cab ride. Well worth it I’d say to finally get myself and my puke shoes home and in bed.