Pondicherry’s creole melting pot contains plenty of ingredients. I’d describe it as Faded French colony meets spiritual India, mixed with a heady arts scene and a faint whiff of urine, but that’s just me. I LOVED IT.  Spent the whole week buzzing around the cobbled streets on a scooter with my gal on the back; dodging dogs and hawkers on our way to the next café, the next gallery, the next café, the next…

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