Pondicherry memoirs: you know, toilet bowls are quite pretty up close

For some reason I seem to think that getting a SIM card in a foreign country is going to be as confusing as Canada. To be honest, everything in India IS more complicated...besides that. The man living in a house made of rubbish has a phone, in fact it will be just as fancy as the businessman's in the gucci suit. The tumored dog most likely had one. To reach my mum as she flew into Chennai I decided instead to use the pay phone in the station. Each rupee down the slot came with a different response from the receiver. From the number doesn't exist to welcome to Kerpal's Non-Veg Paradise Masala House.

Finally met up with mum. So nice to see a familiar face and approach someone that wasn't going to sell me anything. Mum being severely poisoned from some street food consumed allowed me to haul her bags along and set her down on the right bus. Seaside guest house felt way out of my class but I let my mother treat me just this once. After one day of ambling along the old French colony boulevard and attempting to book either bus, train, plane and even horse to get to Ooty or Kerala or perhaps the next town to no avail (xmas time) we watched Avatar in Tamil. Crowds poured in throughout the whole film, cheering when skin was shown or people got blown up. Even getting out their cam-phones to record a cleavage.

Ended the night with a lovely butter chicken...dum dum dum.

Ughhhhhhhh kill me. The bug I had eaten glued me to the chair in hotel lobby after check out and to get to the toilet I had to dash through the spicy smelling kitchen which brought it all up much quicker. Slumped into the cab come 7pm for 13 hours of head-out-the-windowing. Ooty was strategically placed at the top of 32 bends, each now bearing some part of my butter chicken.

Checked in to Reflections guest house and passed out, missing christmas morning!!

to be continued...