I lost my pudu cherry on Valentine’s Day!
Yea! Yea! Yea! And as it always is with after one’s virginity loss, I fell madly in love with the place.
I cannot believe that I lived all these years of my life a mere 300 km from the sea and one of the quaintest, yuhummiest towns ever, and didn’t go visiting. This love affair should’ve begun long ago.
If you know Tamil (which Vatty and Freety did) the people welcome you with open arms. Okay I say Vatty knows Tamil very carelessly. The strangest thing happened every time she spoke Tamil, the natives immediately replied in English. Christoph, my latest lover, and I tried to speak nicely and smile a lot. On occasion I even tried out Tamil phrases (inflection included) on people. I’m still trying to understand why everyone pretended that they didn’t hear me when I spoke.
Cherries are the friendliest people I’ve seen in a long time. I’ve seen more smiles in the past two days than I have ever seen in an entire week in Bangalore. Two Indian women showing cleavage so generously and uncaringly probably helped.
The most beautiful part of Pondicherry has got to be the French town. Cobbled streets with French names, the smell of the sea, salt, and I swear, baked bread; it’s a place I’d love to stay in. Forever and ever.
La Café is a coffee shop that stares out at the sea. The best part of my entire trip was staring at the patterns the moon made on the sea (it looked like an ultrasound scan for the most part; but it put me in mind of the womb-tomb poets and all so I loved it), bonding and smoking with my little girl as we ate brownies and drank delicious café au lait at La Café.
The Auro Beach is a great place to play at. We had fun playing the ‘Don’t-drink-the-beer, give-it-all-to-me’ game with the oily cop who confiscated our liquor stock. (Thankfully, the good stuff was hidden away in my bag). But I guess we were to blame. Indians don’t treat beer as just a refreshing drink. How many times I’ve heard relatives say, “beeru kudithale” in that tone of scandal!
I finally fulfilled my fantasy of listening to November Rain and watching the waves crash on the sand, smoking unconcerned and rapt.
The Auro ashram was a bit of a “yea, whatever.” May be because Lifestyle has just the same kind of stuff for about the same price. The road to the ashram is a delight, though. One I’d have enjoyed so much more if we weren’t on bleddy breakless bikes and I wasn’t so spasmoed.
Food’s cheap and great (if you know what to order). Or take Vat with you. That woman can mix taste to anything. And I mean anything. So can my baby, Freety.
Sunday bazaar is awesome; I tried out clothes bang in the middle of a street. What a fun experience.
My boys were too lazy to be active companions, but they did let Vatty and me get roaring drunk and patiently listened to us singing hard rock all through the night. They even woke up at an insane hour for a Sunday morning (8.00 am) after a long night of revelry because my first words were, “I am hungry” uttered with a whine.
Vatty and I got chased, had our boobies ogled at too many times to count, yelled abuse at a few people, bought many clothes, got lost, nearly got raped, and concluded it was a great trip.
Nothing like a trip with family. That’s when you realise that home is not a place but a people. Sweetiedarlings – Gopics, BailyS, Monty, and even double-bitch Cutlet, life is just not the same without all of the lunch gang. Even in Puducherry.
I’m still spasmoed so some of the stuff might not make sense. Excuse, please, dear readers.
And friends, visit Facebook for ze sexy pictures – hot girls and hot boys on the beach. LOL. If that doesn’t sound like porn, I don’t know what does. LOL.
Oh yes, the definitive song for this trip was, “Show me the meaning…” by Backstreet Boys. It was uncanny the way we heard it every place we went.
And the moral of the trip? I can sing on Broadway.
P. S. Don’t listen to Vatsala when she says I can only sing in Broadway for the Deaf.