After a couple of days trying to fill the gas bottle in Mamallapuram we gave up and went south to French Pondicherry. Here, as usual, the ex-colonies of the dirty frenchies have good food available, bread cheese and wine. After about 10 litres of diesel we gave up trying to fill the gas bottle and had to buy an indian bottle and regulator. Predictably it is completely crap and leaks gas.

Amelia has taken to eating with her hands very quickly, probably this is due to her uncouth Aussie upbringing. Even the Indians are secretly impressed how quickly she can clear a banana leaf.

We have so far taken back roads and tracks through small villages and havent seen any other whiteys. The Indians are really friendly, no hassle, always a big smile. The local women stand around laughing at how horrible our cooking is, even the small children have refused to try any. Roads have varied between excellent smooth fresh with white lines, and really bad broken tarmac pistes. Over the last 900km we have slept in the tent every night and have bush camped 5 nights:

1. Night by smelly fishing village with many small pesky (but lovely) children trying to get into the car.

2. Night in coastal dune scrub, lots of peacocks

3. Two nights on edge of a quiet beach under some trees. Ate baked beans, only 3 tins left.

4. A night near town of Vembar in thorny bushes

There is officialy no such thing as a quiet camping spot in this part of the country. Dont know if there is some kind of celebrations going on, but every village seems to have a 1k pa system that is cranked up in the evening and it goes to midday the next day. It was quite a surreal night with three surrounding villages all blasting out different music, just like trying to sleep at Glastonbury, kind of.