Pondicherry: the only time I had heard of the coastal town before coming to India was in a literary context. Yann Martel’s masterpiece Life of Pi briefly takes place in Pondicherry, as the titular protagonist of the story is born there. To be honest, even up until a couple of weeks ago, I doubt that I could even point out Pondicherry on a map, let alone tell you anything of interest about the town. However, the weekend of October 9th, I fell in love with the sleepy little beach town.
Most people that know me probably know that I’m not really a “beach person”. I’m typically in a constant state of loathing when it comes to heat and sun (ironic considering that I’m a Texas who then chose to study abroad in India), but nevertheless, the idea of salty water, hot sand, and inescapable sunlight sounds like my own personal brand of hell.
The bus ride along the coast was long and just involved me sleeping a lot. We left our residence in Chennai and headed south, stopping at temples along the way. There was even the Butterball – a massive boulder that looked like it was straight out of Raiders of the Lost Ark, but with the best name known to mankind.
When we arrived in Pondicherry, it was lunch time, and as a group we ate a delightful buffet at a posh oceanfront hotel. After our stomachs were filled and our sunscreen reapplied, we were able to wander around. Pondicherry was a French colony, and the influence was fairly obvious. Most of the buildings looked like they were straight out of Paris (or at least the French Quarter in New Orleans), cafés lined the streets, and there were a lot of European tourists. I visited a bookshop that was having a sale, and French, English, and Tamil books filled the massive space. Around this time, a majority of the group made their way out to the eco-village of Auroville to spend time and stay the night, but those of us who opted to stay in Pondicherry wandered around the city more before grabbing a couple of drinks at a rooftop café at sunset. We had reserved an Airbnb for the night, and once we were ready, we took an auto towards it.
The Airbnb was a little slice of heaven. Owned by an adorable French couple named Amélie and Remy, the beachside bungalow in their backyard was welcoming. Expats who have lived and taught French in India for three years with their four young children in tow, Amélie and Remy were beyond hospitable. They made sure that we had enough mosquito nets and told us of a nearby restaurant to grab dinner, and they made us feel at home even though it was for one night only. The bungalow itself was like nothing I have ever experienced. It was nestled in a cluster of palm trees in between their house and the ocean. The bungalow, despite only being one room, was quite large, and fit seven of us comfortably. It had a loft with a second-story balcony, a thatched roof, an ocean view, and lots of books in English and French. Once settled in, we made our way along the waterfront to the restaurant Amélie and Remy had suggested. We feasted on sweet lassis, Thai green curry, and freshly caught fried calamari, and once we returned to our little secluded bungalow, I was content and ready for bed. I laid on a mattress under an improvised tent of mosquito netting, and fell asleep to the sound of the waves lulling me to sleep and the familiar scents of incense and lit mosquito coils filling the air.
The next morning, I woke with the sunrise. I climbed up the ladder to the loft overhead, where I sat with my peers and watched the sun rise over the Bay of Bengal. It was one of the most magnificent sunrises that I have ever seen. The morning sun shone through the palm trees and the violently pink bougainvilleas, all while fishermen were preparing their boats to take out for the day. After soaking in the view, we made our way back into Pondicherry for breakfast. We walked several kilometers through parts of the town that I doubt tourists often see. Local fishermen were examining their catches, women were sweeping their stoops and creating elaborate mandalas out of chalk and sand, and kids laughed at us as they tried to communicate to us in Tamil. We passed by mosques where the congregations were gathered outside, smoking cigarettes and reading newspapers, and we were able to witness a small coastal town waking up early on a weekend morning. After eating not one, but two breakfasts on the main drag of Pondicherry, we made our way back to the Airbnb to relax some more. Everyone else opted to go swimming in the ocean, but I laid in the hammock in the French couple’s jungly backyard, petting their dog and swinging back and forth as I watched the waves break onto the shore. And surprise: I loved it.