Nearly 300 years of French rule, with only brief periods of capture by the Dutch and the English, have given Pondicherry the flavor of a French provincial town.
The town is oval -shaped, with a canal separating the bustling `ville norie’ (black town) from the once exclusive French section `ville blanc’ (white town). Neatly planned squares of `places’, lead to straight roads running north to south, parallel to the sea. Bisecting them at right angles are other meticulously arranged roads running east to west. Many of the roads, like the names of shop, still retain their old French names, a lingering trace of Gallicism. Elegant whitewashed villas with gardens enclosed by high walls, make you rub your eyes in wonder.
The market place (and commercial areas) is strewn with cafes and bars-a big draw for the thirsty traveler from dry Tamil Nadu.
Pondicherry does not hold much for night -time revelers. We preferred to turn in early most night and get up time to watch the sun rise from an upturned boat on the beach. Every morning as the sun peered over the sea, a row of small fishing boats would start out from the south. Sailing one behind the other, they crawled across the horizon, looking like a train of bugs and it was time for the town to awake.
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