Pondicherry

We started the fifth week of the trip by walking to the park at the end of the road where there was a grand pristine white monument in the centre. Obviously built by the French, its dedication was explained only in Tamil and Latin, so we were none the wiser.

Our next stop was the nearby Pondicherry Museum. This was a lot of fun. There was a room devoted to Greco-Roman potsherds as the area was an important trading centre in the Chola period between 300BC and 1200AD. On the first floor was a superb collection of geological specimens from all over India, a pousse-pousse which looked like one of the first motor cars but instead of an engine was fitted with a long bar handle at the rear for servants to push it, and a one poled palanquin which looked to be the worst designed conveyance imaginable.

Also in the museum, together with a pantheon of bronze gods, was the explanation of the monument in the park. It is called Aayi Mandapam after a 16th century prostitute named Aayi. A passing king mistook her perfumed and candlelit dwelling as a shrine and worshipped outside it. On realising his mistake he ordered the dwelling to be razed and replaced with a water tank. Aayi assuaged his anger by offering to fund the construction herself. 300 years later Napoleon 3rds army slaked their thirst at the reservoir and Napoleon, amused by the story, himself ordered the construction of the monument.

Then to the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, only to find it closed for lunch. If you can't beat them, join them, so we repaired to Baker Street, a restaurant on rue Bussy. Here we found what we were looking for, what we fondly believe to be the nearest spinach quiches to the equator.

Christine had bought three novels at a book sale opposite the cathedral, but by the time we regained the hotel they were no longer with us. After a rest, we returned to the Baker Street restaurant where they were restored, then returned to the cathedral which had now finished lunch and reopened.

We had given our laundry to the hotel yesterday and it was all delivered back today nicely laundered so we have enough clothes for the rest of the trip.

As I was waiting for Christine outside a clothes shop, two ladies and a gentleman appeared out of an alleyway. They all had cloth pads on their heads on which they balanced a handleless bucket of rubble. They trooped across the road, emptied their containers in a heap, had a short gossip, then disappeared back whence they had come. I was left musing that it was clearly cheaper to employ two extra people than buy a wheelbarrow. I'd previously seen builders carrying bags of bricks on their heads rather than use hods, so it must be commonplace.

After our evening constitutional along the promenade with the Bay of Bengal lapping at the shore, we retired to our balcony to drink our final bottle of beer.

Supper was at Villa Shanti, the number two restaurant on TripAdvisor ( Number one was a cafe). Pricey with main dishes costing IR325 or so ( about GBP3.25), but superb food in palatial surroundings made up for somewhat slow service.