To be honest with you, I got bored with Goa. I thought that I’d spend my fortnight “sans Squiffy” sat on a beach reading books supping Pina Coladas surrounded by girls in grass skirts. In planning this, one thing I forgot is that I’m really not that much of a beach person. Worse, to explore the further reaches of Goa, one really needs to hire a motor-scooter. And nobody wears a helmet here. After meeting more than one holidaymaker who had come-a-cropper on (or should that be off?) his bike, I decided against getting two wheels of my own — if I didn’t kill me, then my mother certainly would.

Instead, I took a flight much further north to Jaipur in Rajasthan, where I’ll be meeting Squiffy in a few days, and will explore the local area a little bit. So here I am already, in the Pink City and I must tell you, that I’m loving it — helped in no small part by the midrange hotel at which I’m staying. Alright, so it’s costing a ridiculous four times more than my room in Goa did but, hey, all the budget places I called were fully booked, ok?

This medium-sized city of 3.7 million people provides an interesting contrast to the sleepy towns of Goa. I’m much more of a city bod than a beach bum, so I’m really pleased to be here and have spent the day with a beaming grin on my face as I wander around the relatively busy streets sucking in the sights, smells and noises of the place. The transport here provides great entertainment: I’m seen buses, cars, autorickshaws, pedal rickshaws, horses, elephants and even cows on the road! The cows are my favourite as they’re sacred in Hindu texts, so woe betide any driver who hits one. The cows of course know this well and mooch around the streets like the religious idols that they are and the traffic filters around them like the smoked-air in an engineer’s wind tunnel channels around a solid object.

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