Le Pondy

We arrived on a sleeper bus just before daybreak but we were ready. We ignored all the touts and tuk tuks and headed to the main seating area for toilet breaks and to let our morning eyes adjust and formulate a plan. The plan as it happened started with a chai.

Which is replaced in the south (for the locals at least) as top choice for hot drink by coffee, it's no longer Masala and it's no longer referred to as chai but simply tea. It's still lovely and perfect preparation for the battle of the auto's.

This is a back-and-forth war of wits that we have been through maybe 150 times since we stepped foot on this once mystical land, and although frustrating and repetitive the tact has to change with each new place you enter. Humour was on our side in Kerela, where they were more used to speaking in my native tongue and we found interspersing the negotiation with mild-mannered jibes would normally get us a reasonable price and a friendly journey.

Tamil Nadu however, (a place and people so different to the rest of the Indian population that our trusty guidebook assures us they have about the same amount in common with the Russians) is altogether different. Aggression and holding one's own is the weapon of choice as 20 or so drivers crowd around to assure you it's the best price, the only price and the local price.

Although this sounds intimidating, and it was definitely that at first, it is just the way they do business. After walking off, coming back, swearing a lot and telling them they could 'do one,' we finally found the price similar to the one in our heads and jumped in.

"To Le Café," I announced with an eagerness that only someone with a yearning for real bread can possess at 5.55am. After a few wrong turns, it appeared as is usually the case that our driver hadn't the foggiest, and so we ended up on the promenade, or... Le promenade as it's probably called.

We were delighted with the scene we were greeted with, in the very very early morning light, in what sort of resembled a zombie movie, hundreds of elderly men were walking, jogging and meandering their way along the road. The morning keep fit was a great sight, and one made all the better by the sunrise over the tempestuous ocean to the left and massive obligatory gold Gandhi statue on the right.

After a stroll of our own, we found 'Le Cafe' (that's actually what it's called by the way). We read the menu with sparkles in our eyes. There were baguettes and paninis and Brie and pastries of all kinds. The slogan on the menu... LE CAFE - more than just coffee.

"Can I get... 2 ham and cheese croissants and 2 lattes?" I beamed.

"No. We are only selling coffee."

After a tuk-tuk tour of every grubby guesthouse this side of the Taj, we found somewhere to live (with wifi), and after a restless few hours unable to sleep (mostly due to excitement), we decided it was definitely time to eat, drink and be merry.

We walked through the dusty back streets of the very Indian and extremely poor Tamil Nadu part of Pondicherry and popped out onto a few roads of European bliss. Checking the menus, our fears were confirmed. If we wanted to do what we wanted to do, we'd have to pay for it.

We quite quickly made the decision that (with the help of a very generous donation) we would live it up for 2 days and then move on. With a spring in our step, we found our date-night dinner eatery quickly. Steak and the much-dreamt-about Four Seasons Shiraz, the palatable Indian Shiraz that's been quaffed in Mumbai, Goa, and Fort Cochin.

We then found our lunch destination. I'm not going to go into details, but, Sicilian sausage, lovely bottle of red, cheese platter (with bread, oil, and balsamic). We waddled home.

I'll save you the trouble and summarise most of what happened next...

We slept.  
We drank wine.  
We ate steak.  
We had beers.  
We had wine.  
We had bread.  
We slept.  
We searched Google for places to eat.  
We ate.

In between the gluttony, we had made an important decision. Because we did not have the money to carry on in Pondy, and we thought Chennai may be a bit boring for a whole week, we would make the massive trip to enter the last state in the south (Andhra Pradesh) and visit Hyderabad to soak up the last bit of sightseeing and culture we'd have in India.

Content with our travel plans, we sat down to dinner at L'Orient Hotel, a beautiful candlelit courtyard and our 4th and final Rick Stein restaurant. One of the only places in the world you can get this Indo-French fare. Our whistles were wetted as we sampled the Creole curry dishes, this time in an attempt never to be predictable, with a bottle of white Four Seasons, and a Johnny Walker to finish us off.

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