Jaipur

After our fabulous excursion to the Taj, DY and I had to make a tough call - to proceed with the trip or not. This was brought on by him being unbearably ill, and the knowledge that to get to Jaipur we faced a 6 hour drive.

Given that we'd been through a similar situation only 2 months back in SL when Dunc had the same problem it wasn't hard to make the decision this time and DY stayed behind whilst I proceeded on. The driver was really shocked and kept saying to me: "But Madame, your husband, he is unwell", leaving the statement hanging in the air (the inference being that only a terrible wife would leave a husband on his bed of pain and not mop his brow at regular intervals with cool cloths). Whilst I did feel guilty, I was also aware that a) I wouldn't be able to help Dunc by moping around the hotel room with him and b) I'm only in India for 5 days so need to make the most of it. Anyway, the driver sulked for 5 out of the 6 hour's drive so I just let him get on with it - I'm not a big fan of sulkers!

The drive was wonderful (despite the potholes) - a visual marvel of camels, changing landscapes (from dry to desert and back to lunar), farming scenes, craftsmen carving their wares, women with bangles to their elbows - you name it.

Arrive at the Hilton (we weren't roughing it!), dusty, tired and overexcited about Jaipur (of which I'd heard so much). My official sight-seeing wasn't starting until the next day, but I grabbed a trishaw and set-off to see the town. Again, virtually no women on the streets (unaccompanied), and those that are have their scarves draped over their faces or are in burqqa. I am glad I've worn my shalwar and drape the scarf round my mouth (not out of modesty - the dust blowing through town is choking).

All driving in the subcontinent happens at breakneck speed, so we whizz through the old town, the bazaars, past several ancient palaces, the pink city walls (so called because the Maharajah decided to pain the city pink to welcome the British Royal Family on a visit back at the turn of the last century) and finally back to the peace of the hotel. The snapshot tour, but always fun in a trishaw. Unfortunately see a middle-aged woman in a sari taken out by a motor-bike. Whilst she lay in the road unsconscious, the offending driver drops his bike and runs (a form of street justice prevails here when there are accidents, usually resulting in the offender being beaten to a pulp). Am apprehensive of what will happen to the victim, but my trishaw doesn't stop.

At the hotel, decide that after the last few food experiences I'm not game enough to try a local restaurant so instead have the best pasta I've eaten in the last 4 months - bliss. Then settle in for a 5* night in front of the satellite tv.