pretty little pondicherry

i've always been sort of intrigued by pondicherry. initially because it had such a cute name. i mean, pondicherry? it sounds adorable. then when i found out about its major french influence, i was sold. having now spent several months in india almost entirely pastry and non-amul cheese -less, i was hopeful for some authentic food if nothing else.

pondicherry did not disappoint! a charming little town, it boasts both lingering french influences and actual french people - thanks to the prominent ex-pat community. each street has two names, one french and the other vaguely tamil or perhaps the name of a person (confusing for the mailman, i'm sure). the city is divided into sections - french, tamil, muslim etc and bifurcated by a canal that has surely seen better days.

petit déj, anyone?

we stayed at a quaint little guest house (le rêve bleu.. charmant, non?) that seems to be popular with the french set - evidenced by the scene of baguette-tearing and cigarette-chain smoking we came down to in the morning. the french proprietess steered us towards the best bakery in town, baker street (english/sherlock holmes theme but thoroughly french) where we indulged in a breakfast of macarons (basil and vanilla olive oil) and croissants of the regular and almond variety (the latter was the best). french pastries at indian pastry prices? a rare find indeed.

properly stuffed, it was off to explore the city. we rented bikes and cycled around town, meandering here and there and stopping to take very similar pictures about every 30 meters. we made it out to the sea (which we later learned was a bay) and pedaled our way along the shoreline. at some point we stopped along the water at a cafe named, aptly, le café, where we had a lovely breeze and may have even been in the background of a (very cheesy) tamil music video.

colors of pondy

after some more wandering we made our way to a nondescript place farther down the beach for a quick drink as the sun was setting. on the way we stopped to see 'the elephant' who visits the temple each day to bless whoever wants to offer money or fruit. for a few rupees you can experience the warm breath of an elephant as its trunk brushes over your head. for dinner we met a friend of a friend for a rather nice meal - mostly south indian food (think rice and coconuts) with a fancy touch. i had the chicken chetinad - a local preparation - and we shared other seafood and curry dishes as well. delightful!

which kind of sums up pondicherry actually. it was a delight, and we left quite full.

écoles, élèves, et écriture

well after spending all of two weeks in the schools i have some (very deep i'm sure) insights and observations on the french school system.

first, the teachers are all addressed as 'teacher' (maître or maîtresse, which incidentally also means 'mistress'). kind of endearing, but it can get a little confusing. also, many of the rooms do not have clocks. the teachers tend to rely on students with watches, which seems like it could be a dangerous policy.

as you probably already know, the french take their relaxation very seriously. the french calendar, and school day, are no exception. the students have a half-hour recess in the morning and afternoon as well as a two-hour lunch break during which the students all go home and eat with their mothers. who are apparently all at home. what year is this?

it would be a long two hours if the teachers' lounges weren't so nice. there always seems to be tea and fresh coffee. several were also well-stocked with wine. go figure.

the final hurdle in bridging the american-french school system gap was communication. obviously the language barrier (read: my pitiable french) poses a problem. what i did not expect to pose a problem, however, was my handwriting. i feel obliged to mention that my handwriting, on the chalkboard or otherwise, has never been a problem in the US. but when i wrote in print on the board, i got blank stares and puzzled expressions. when i looked at their notebooks, i realized why. first of all, their notebook paper is actually paper that's probably designed for quantum physicists or architects; it's graph paper that's divided into millimeters (or something equally tiny), which is then grouped into lines. their handwriting (which they begin learning in cursive) is impeccable. (not an easy task considering they all write with fountain pens.) i tried to find a font it most resembled, but i couldn't find one fancy enough. i actually had to learn how to write in 'french' cursive.

not only are their notes impeccably well-written but they're incredibly well-organized. students always have a ruler at their desk (you know, for underlining, connecting the dots..) and several types of pens (fountain or ballpoint?) at their immediate disposal. when i ask them to write the date, i inevitably get 10 students who ask me where it should be in relation to the margin and another 10 who want to know "is this okay?"

i've yet to discover the ultimate goal of this extreme anal-retentiveness but the french have certainly got them well-trained.

tout neuf

just some observations and new experiences since i've been here..

food.

naturally, groceries are generally more expensive. the one exception is wine, which can run from as little as 1.96 € for a bottle. and it's french, so i figure it must be pretty good. (but then, who knows. i mean, i saw bottle shock) also hard cider (or, here, just cider), made from real bretagne apples. delightfully cheap.

the outdoor markets are more fun but the prices (as compared to the supermarché) seem to vary pretty widely. a nice gentleman also taught us about french milk. should you ever desire un-pasteurized milk, i can tell you where to go.

toilet paper.

for some reason toilet paper here comes in both white and pink varieties. they seem to be the same in every other respect, including price. yet for some reason everyone seems to opt for the pink. even young single men. i've yet to figure this one out.

music.

as you may imagine, only the worst american music gets imported here (currently topping the charts: that pink song and katy perry's delightful musings). and they apparently take only the worst from other countries as well. i've heard some pretty abysmal german and brit pop too. adding to the annoyance, the music videos seem to run in cycles of about 6, so you're sure to hear the songs again and again.

hospitality.

i couchsurfed! finally! this made the prospect of mundane errands in the very sleepy town of st. étienne all the more exciting. after a long day in the rain and cold we found mary paul's apartment. her apartment was very cozy and full of trinkets from her travels. she gave us slippers and fed us fish soup and pasta. it was heavenly! she topped herself by offering us spanish chocolates and tolerating our silly questions and broken french. (we spent about 10 minutes trying to pronounce 'chirurgie'). perhaps a 50 year old nurse from st. étienne was not the most dramatic of ways to begin my couchsurfing career. but she was very sweet. she probably didn't even know she was my first.