Finally, my three months of Pondicherry living are over. Briefly summarised, I worked with an NGO based there, gaining more experience than I could have imagine. Including; how to write grant proposals; how to attempt to set up a sustainable business (don't ask); how to recognise when you're beaten; how to raise puppies; how not to run an NGO and how to navigate the treacherous waters of the Indian management 'system' (read: there is no 'system'). It's similar to a headless chicken, except the head is still squawking non-stop and the wings don't know what to do. It wasn't easy, and sometimes it wasn't fun, but for the most part I enjoyed it and by God, it's certainly washed away all those ideas of rosy eyed, saving-children-and-having-fun that often come with NGOs. I also managed to pick myself up an internship for a month at a consultancy company, so now I've seen both sides of the coin.
Pondy wasn't boring, by any stretch of the imagination, but most of it was barely blogable. I had fun,a made a lot of friends and ended up feeling at home in that little slice of India by the sea. I also managed to pick up some people who I will most definitely be catching up with, including my Stoke Newington exiled, dahl addict, vegan and soon-to-be travel buddy, Elise, from whom you will be seeing more of on these pages. (I'm trying to convince to write a blog purely about dahl, if you don't think it's worth it, you haven't had good enough dahl). Besides that my fellow voluncherries Loretta, Tiffany and Elodie(one incredibly English, one a fake English women from Paris, one a hip hop dancing putain from le Sud); Udai, Maus and Kent consultant extraordinaires, and mentors in the dark arts of capitalism and high fashion Indian émigrés, Rashi and Komal, were all standard fixtures of my time here.
I can't leave too, without mentioning the best idea ever, the AC Bar Crawl (mentioning it here breaks the first rule of ACBC, alas). The basic premise is to visit a string of A/C bars (local bars, invariably without A/C and hostile to our presence) and drink as much dirty Indian liquor as possible before they shut everyone out and then to wander to a party thrown by some nonchalant French expats we don't like. It may sound grim but they were the best of nights, if you ever find yourself in Pondy, try and get yourself an ACBC night. All that coupled with salsa nights, too many Kingfisher's to count, bribing police and watching the sunset (and rise) over the Bay of Bengal, made for a pretty amazing time.
And so now I have gone and am back on the road. Leaving, I managed to miss a train and get my first taste of the monsoon but have finally made it to Orissa, a state in the East. I have officially left South India and everything is about to get a whole lot more hectic. From here (Bhubaneswar, the unpronounceable, dreary, smelly capital) I'm whistle stopping through some of the holiest sites in India before hitting Kolkata, Varanassi and then Delhi, to be reunited with Udai (briefly) and Elise ( until the end of this runaway's exile).
Back on the road, back in tiny, dank hotel rooms and night trains, I can't stop smiling. The whole of the baking North awaits before my return back to dreary Britain (and incredibly London) and I'm ready to gobble it all up with eyes, mouth and overloaded nose.
Love to all back home and elsewhere.
Keep in touch (even if I am awful at replying).
Gx
