Pondicherry revisited

August 7th 2010: The hubby and I packed our bags and headed south-east towards that one place with a blend Tamil culture with French influences set alongside the choppy waters of the Bay of Bengal. The trip was meant to be a celebration of sorts of my current unemployed status, this wonderful period between jobs. Not sure when I would ever get free time like this again, we seized the opportunity with both hands.

The beauty about Pondicherry lies in its serenity and architecture. This does not mean that it has any architectural wonders that warrant whole afternoons of sight-seeing. It just means that this city has the kind of cobbled streets, french windows and wrought iron balconies reminiscent of those small alleys in Fontainhas, in amche Goa. Well, if you have been to European towns, these these should probably remind of of them, but in my case, having never been to said towns, they remind me simply of beautiful Goa.

As we walked around the French Quarters (the area with a predominant French influence, that contains the sea-facing promenade), we passed by a park with wind-chimes up in its trees, the sea breeze gently drawing out tunes from it. The use of wind chines in public areas is something i'v noticed only in Pondicherry. Auroville also had a similar 4 ft. tall wind chime up a tree.

The beach front, called the Promenade (its namesake, the Promenade hotel, owned by the Hidesign group, is also along the sea shore, and charms you with its clean angles and white facade) is something like the Bandstand at Bandra. Rocks line the shore. We came across a charming cafe on the beachfront, and having had our food just a while before, we did not stop to eat, although the scones and granitas being served up looked tempting.

 

The hotel we were put in - De l' Orient is in Rue Rolland street, a 2 minute walk from the beachfront. A heritage hotel, restored and operated by the Neemrana group, comes highly recommended. Now, "heritage hotels" are tricky to trust, and a "charming antique four poster bed" described on the website might have just turned out to be an excuse for moth-eaten old furniture that has been given a coat of varnish. But charming it really was. A spacious courtyard doubles up as the out-door restaurant. Each of the 10 rooms are different and are named after south Indian cities (ours was the Madurai - tariff Rs 3000 inclusive of breakfast) are a pleasant change from rooms that are cardboard cut-outs of each other.



Two reasons why we chose Pondicherry - the laid-back beautiful city and the appeal of fresh seafood. Full marks for the former but the experience of the latter was very disappointing. The idea of having "Creole food" as peddled by 75% of the restaurants/eateries/cafes was unappealing to us since it would take a more refined tongue than us to appreciate food whose second name is blandness itself (apologies to all you French connoisseurs). Now I love a well made croissant like any one else would but give me my prawn recheido over a greek salad any day. Still, Creole food non-withstanding, we did have high hopes for seafood. Our planned dinner at Le-Dupleix (Rue Suffern street) where we had eaten on our last trip, didn't happen due to a sudden rain shower. We ate at the hotel itself. Though the set-up was in itself very good (a live band played Nirvana and Guns and Roses!), the prawns in garlic and pepper and the French Onion soup were a disappointment. A lot of sauces and spices were used to camouflage the fish (which lacked in flavor) in the Orintal fish curry that we ordered.

Our opinion about the food did not change when we had lunch the next day at Rendezvous, a popular roof top restaurant, well known for sea food. The crabmeat was overdosed with turmeric and coconut and served up as Crab pepper fry. The only saving grace was the malabar fish curry (tangy and mildly sweet) and rice.


And now for the one thing that tipped the scales in favor of Pondicherry (at least for me)...shopping baby! The birthplace of Hidesign (they have a Hidesign factory outlet for pete's sake), the epicenter of pottery crafts, junk jewellery, hand-made paper... I should stop now, the drool is practically on my keyboard now.

Its just one of those quirky things I must do, like doing a pad-yathra to Mannat (if you don't know who lives here then you wouldn't care to know anyway) when i'm in Bombay, or like I simply must browse a Hidesign store if i'm in a 50 mt radius even if i'm not buying anything (read as can't afford any more - eyes spot price-tag, swoon, whoosh, thud!).



So that was my Pondicherry for you ... a big thumbs-up for the senses and a big thumbs down for the palate. And oh yes, do not forget the sun-screen.

Banging my head against the wall...

for my stupidity... at the way i lost my phone this week. A black and orange beauty, my samsung monte, just 3 weeks old (!!!). Lets take a minute here to remember her.

But its not so much the loss of the phone as the way i lost it that makes me want to thunk my head against a wall. I lost it somewhere between waiting for my shuttle and getting to my desk on Monday morning. Many theories have been discussed over the last few days - i may have just kept it on my seat and forgotten it, or it may have dropped from my purse, or it may have been picked up from office by some dubious character (this last theory being highly unlikely ).
Having been a firm believer of using very basic phones over the years for this very reason, I had finally purchased my first touch screen gadget ( my first real gadget for that matter).

After moping around for a few days, quite irrationally, I'm now itching to get a new and improved phone, and very un-pocket-friendly thoughts spring to mind - "get an i-phone, get an i-phone" the voices in my head keep saying. What to do ? Haven't told the hubby yet about the voices in my head, since he is currently teaching me the good values of frugality, being a firm believer in observing self-inflicted punishment a-la Silas of the opus dei, da-vinci-code style, or, in my case, using my old phone for the next year (uncanny is the similarity in the way my mom and my husband think - they both are probably the most practical people iv known).

So i guess ill just have to get them voices out of my head, but in case Pabi darling if your reading this , my birthday like you know, falls next month and i do miss my phone ....:-)

A Little Ranting Never Hurt Anyone

Its a beautiful Monday morning ...why,you ask?
In a large portion, the the B-lore weather, which has considerably improved over the last week,can be held responsible. All of Bangalore has been sighing over one of the best weekends to go by, weather-wise. This weekend also got me, together the girls (y & v) on an oestrogen high, over Sex and the City - the movie (which, by the way we thoroughly enjoyed, call me shallow if you will) followed by a laaazzzzzy lunch peppered with some male-bashing at The Only Place. And trust me, lunching with the ladies is to the soul, what maybe a session at the spa is to your body. I prescribe for all women - one mandatory session with the girls every month, RX.
getting back to my Monday morning... beautiful it may be, but fruitful ... maybe not. For the nth time, i resolved to begin exercising regularly ( and pigs will fly said the husband). And yesterday, both the hubby and I took to the swimming pool in a bid to get those muscles moving. I had a vague idea that splashing in the pool would kick start my body and I would perhaps begin lifting some weights every morning. End result of all my splashing in the water (and some mighty splashing it was, since im still learning to swim) was that i wake up Monday morning with aches in all place. My weights are resigned, yet again to gather dust in the cupboard. Mea Culpa ...

collection of thoughts

I just watched Kramer v/s Kramer for the first time ....

a few minutes back....

and it got me thinking, besides the realization (yet again) that Dustin Hoffman is amazing, about how much responsibility goes into raising a child.
And how the first thought that comes to Kramer's mind when he is being fired is not his own personal failure, but the possible negative impact of his unemployment on his custody battle.

Being in the Double-income-no-kids (DINK) stage of my life may be the best phase of my married life yet !

24th view

In my relentless quest for weekend adventure (that includes my "exciting" circuit of malls and restaurants and coffee shops on weekends), today (a simu-weekend cos it was ganesh chaturti, hence a day off) i resolved to go where no sane mall-hopping bangalorean has deemed to go before.

The highest point in Bangalore is not a peak, its the government utility building in the heart of the urban jungle. All of 25 floors tall. And today's mission was to see how the view was from the top.
And so, with P in tow, i ventured into the building. Noticing the "marriage registration" sign for the 10th floor, my mind began conjuring up images of baazigar, with srk throwing shilpa setty off the terrace of the building. I hoped that P wouldnt attempt the same, cos he was hinting at doing something of the sort if i didnt stop dragging him around town like this.

So we made an attempt to get into the only working lift of the 4 that were there. This involved a complicated activity of nimbly jumping into the lift before the doors closed on you. The doors were opening much before the lift touched ground. Mighty impatient lift that was !

Once inside , we press the 24th floor button. the chap in the lift with us presses 23. He disembarks at 23, we got out at 24. We looked around at the bare walls. There was nothing -we were in a corridoor 4ft by 2ft surrounded by some ancient looking doors that were locked. Turned back to summon the lift. Turns out there are no buttons to call for the lift (cold sweat breaks out)

So we were stranded on the 24th floor in a tiny closeted space with no means to get out and getting claustrophobic by the minute. While P was thinking which of friends lived closet to MG road so he could come and rescue us, I was thinking of which of the locked doors would suddenly burst open and a raging lunatic would jump on us.

After 5 minutes of this, the lift magically came up and rescued us. All relieved and in smiles, we got off at the 23 floor which turned out to be the computerised railway booking center. All three counters of it. And surrounded by bags of cement. And just 1 man manning it. Talk about "buzzing with activity"!

So we sauntered around the 23rd floor, and took in the view from the windows. And breath-taking it was. Great views of MG road , INOX, all three malls, a fabulous view of UB city. We spent some time there, happily clicking away. And then rode the lift back safe ground.

Next weekend we plan to go back to the 23rd floor and check out the view at night (though P doesnt know this of course ;-))

It happened one Morn....

A gal woke up one morning and realised that she was terribly out of shape and in danger of competing in girth with the friendly neighbourhood aunty.
She resolved to go jogging every morning. With stead-fast determination, she put on her Urban Uoga outfit (bought the previous weekend) and laced up her Nikes. She strode out of her 6th floor flat and walked.... right into her lift.
Whoops ! Blooper...what self-respecting jogger would take th elift instead of the stairs? she thought to herself.
Anyways, she rode the lift to the ground floor and walked out to the colony park. Looking around her, at the people jogging , excerising and walking , she felt sufficiently motivated. She plugged in her i-pod and to the beat of "free falling" she started jogging steadily around the park. 2 laps and a few aching muscles later, she felt pleased with herself. Aah life was good!
She took the lift back to her flat... what the hell, after all that exercise, she felt she deserved the lift ride.
She walked into her apartment and looked in the mirror.... aah that glow of health (or sweat ) felt like a literal pat on her back.

"Shinta..... iv made pooris for breakfast, come have them while they are hot" yelled Y from the kitchen.

And with that, all my resolution for a healthier lifestyle took a flying leap out of my 6th floor window.

Its been 2 months now, and my Urban Yoga outfit and my Nikes still miss me!

Books on my shelf