Whilst Dave headed to Goa for his solo adventure, I flew home to visit my family and help my friend Naomi chose a dress for her Vancouver wedding next year. After two weeks in luxury, I was a bit dubious about joining Dave in India. However, my Dad, who visited India in a Land Rover in the ’60s, has raved about the country for the last 40 years, so I thought I should give it a go. And because he’s not stopped raving about it, I persuaded my dad to come too, to re-live his Indian adventures.

As Dad wanted to fly from Birmingham, and I was already booked on a flight from Heathrow, we left on different planes, but were reunited, along with Dave, in Jaipur, Rajasthan. To break us in gently, we’d booked a fairly decent hotel where we were able to relax in the garden with a cup of tea, when the city centre became too overwhelming. On the first evening we had a lovely dinner in the Om Tower, a 14 storey revolving restaurant, before exploring the old walled Pink City on foot. As I imagined, Indian cities are busy with tuk-tuk, cycle and motorbike traffic weaving in and out the narrow streets, loud with the noises of vehicle horns and blaring music and full of unusual sights such as cows freely wandering the streets, women in brightly coloured saris and men fixing old Royal Enfield motorcycles.

When you first arrive, India is definitely an assault on the senses and the dirt and dust are pervasive, but I enjoyed my first couple of days in Jaipur, especially as we were able to retreat when needed.

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