Hippies' capital : Auroville

Onto another bus to Pondicherry, a city only 2 hours away.  Let's talk about local public buses.  They're crazy, noisy, old, falling apart and fast. Very fast. Faster than trains.  They don't stop for nobody (okay, well almost nobody).  I'm convinced that the buses used in North America in the 70's are the ones that they use here today.  Surprisingly enough, the bus system here is very well organized and efficient.  Go to any bus stand at any time and tell them where you want to go and there's a bus going there in the next hour.  Makes sense, there's A LOT of people here and many of them have no vehicles.  Bus transportation is a must.  We've never had to wait more than 30 minutes for a bus.  They're bumpy as hell and you will need a week of yoga to repair the posterior damage, but there's something fun about getting 2 feet of air while you're sitting.

WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE !!!

On this specific trip, we had to meet the bus on the highway.  Sometimes they tell you "there's your bus ! Run run run!" and then you run while the bus slows down a bit (which looks ridiculous when you're wearing a huge backpack. Now I understand why turtles are slow), grab the door rails, jump and pull yourself in (there are no doors on the buses).  This time, there were no seats available so I stood there, next to the open door, holding on the my backpack on the ground.  Finally, some seats cleared up.  Chris took a seat in front of the door and I took one on the door's side, so the open door was on my left hand side. No worries, I was hanging on tight to my backpack.  Would you know it, I sat beside the friendliest Indian family who had a 3 year old son.  The son was not shy and loved getting my attention (and vice versa).  His parents were also very nice and we chatted the whole way about their love marriage (as opposed to arranged marriage) and its complications in Indian society as well as the similarities and differences between Indian and Western societal norms.  The bus was zooming.  Finally, with 30 minutes left, the family and I exchanged contact information.  While I was writing my info. down, I was "hanging on" to my backpack with my elbow.  All of the sudden, the bus hit a curb, and my bag tipped over....onto the stairs leading to the open door.  Then it tipped over again and again and fell out of the speeding bus.  Instantly, I looked at the Indian man that I befriended and he looked at me. I stood up. "STOP THE BUS !!!!!" I yelled ecstatically.  They didn't stop.  My new friend stood up and yelled the same thing in Tamil.  The bus stopped.  Passengers were confused.  Chris looked back, confused.  I leaped out and ran to where my bag lay, pitiful and beat-up.  Two motorcyclists had stopped, making sure that nobody would run it over, wondering who the hell's bag it was (nice people here eh?).  I thanked them, swung my bag over my shoulder and ran back to the bus.  Getting back on the bus, Indians were laughing, some were smiling and some were shaking their heads.  "Sorry!" I shouted to the passengers "everything's okay!"  The bus accelerated and kept on to our destination at dangerously high speeds.  I fastened by bag to the seat and reminded to always tie it to something.  Things could of been much worse.  My bag didn't open.  Miranda, I swear that I'll fix the zipper before I give you back your backpack.


We arrived to Pondicherry, but weren't specifically smitten by the place. Pondicherry used to be a french colony and so you see a lot of French influence.  French delicacies are availabe on the menues.  Streets names are all in french and people even have french names (Indians with names like Jacqueline and Lorraine).  It's expensive, a little European and it felt like we were back in France.  The city is split in two: the Indian and the French side.  The Indian side is well, Indian : chaotic, loud, cheap, fun and exciting.  The french part was quiet, expensive, posh and full of stuff you can get back home.  We mostly hung out drinking lassies and eating samosas while people-watching on the Indian side.  The city does have a beautiful promenade, where couples enjoy romantic walks, enjoying the seabreez and the endless array of street food.

Chris enjoying some delicious samosas !

Pondicherry architecture was beautiful, even the gates were amazing !

One day, we rented a motorcycle and took a stroll to Auroville, the hippiest place in the world. Or in India anyway. Founded in the 60's, Auroville is one of those ideas anyone with a whiff of New Age will love: an international community where dedicated souls, ignoring creed, color and nationality, work to build a universal township and realize interconnectedness, love and good ol' human oneness.

 

The view from the scooter, I mean the hog.

Auroville's efficient buildings

Rainwater collection

The Matrimandir, Auroville's spiritual heart.  It contains an inner chamber lined with white marble that houses the largest crystal in the world.  Too bad it looks like the Epcot center.

Cows going to Auroville to find themselves

That's what it's supposed to be.  Whether it works is really in debate.  Some compliment the town while others criticize it.  Two-thirds of Aurovillians are foreign, and outside opinions of them range from positive vibes to critics who say the town is an enclave for irresponsible expats seeking a self-indulgent rustic escape from their reality. Spending only a day there, I can't really comment.  All I know is that many of the town's buildings were built to be eco-efficient and that the town itself is not an extremely tourist friendly place being that they just want to get on with their work.  Abolishing currency, people live on a credit system and there are 2 generations in the community who have now lived their entire lives in Auroville.  Something is working.  I think the message and the basis of Auroville is a very positive one and  I think many communities could learn from it.