With no driver to pick us up anymore, we were forced to take a taxi from the airport to the hotel. The horror. Unsurprisingly, our taxi driver had no idea where he was going. And after about the fourth time of stopping to ask a random pedestrian for directions, I did start to wonder what happened to a good old fashioned map. Instead we were forced to rely on the word of men who, being men, almost always pointed straight, then gestured left before uttering something in Hindi. ‘you can't miss it mate' would be my guess.

The next morning, I once again tried my hand at ordering room service, something that always ended up in frustration for both parties. Inexplicably, the fiasco seemed to centre around confusion about the number two:

‘Hello, please can I have two eggs and toast?’

‘Three eggs.’

‘No, two. Two eggs’,

‘Three?’

‘No, one plus one eggs.’

‘Oh, two eggs okay.’

‘And two mineral waters.’

‘Three mineral waters.’

‘No, no. Two. One plus one’.

‘Okay, two eggs and two mineral waters'.

‘Yes that's great. Thank you.’

‘And your room number, sir?’

‘201.’

‘301?’

OH RAMA!!!!!

Sometimes, we would eventually get there. Other times, there will be a slight pause, a brief conversation in Hindi (‘Oi Vikram, it's those English wotsits again. See if you can make head or tale of this') and a sudden change of personnel. Or five minutes after an unconvincing ‘Okay sir’, a man would be at our door, menu in hand, asking us to point. On this particular day, the order went through perfectly but the man at our door, angry at the hotel, us, or both, proceeded to smash our bottles of water on the tabletop before slamming the door in disgust behind him. Welcome to Delhi.

After breakfast, we took the metro (a really efficient and cheap mode of transport) to one of Delhi’s tourist hot spots. We were still in the north of India so it came as no surprise to find it boasted a fort, which was imaginatively named Red Fort. Unfortunately it was a lot closer to Jaipur than Jodhpur on the fort spectrum. Unlike in Jaisalmer or Jodhpur, there wasn't an imposing castle like fortication to be impressed by. Rather, there was just a series of mediocre, slightly dirty buildings to look at and quickly dismiss. We were really disappointed. It felt like Lonely Planet had actively lied to us. Looking at the photo in the guide, to the real building, back to the photo, I couldn't believe I was looking at the same thing. The photographer definitely deserves a raise. The gardens were really nice though and so it seemed more a place where you would go to read, write and relax for a few hours.

Not having our books with us, we moved onto another major feature of the area: Jama Masjid. This was a huge mosque that tourists and Muslims alike flocked to see, and it was pretty impressive. After being told to cover my arms with Alice's scarf (luckily pink is my colour) we walked into a wide open space, presumably occupied by mats and Muslims during prayer time, that was overlooked by a large, marble feature that contained several prayer chambers. There wasn't much else to see and I was getting hungry so we walked to a nearby restaurant where they served the largest portion of biryani I have ever seen. We're talking nanny portions. In fact, it was so big it made even her portions seem manageable. I declared my intent on eating it all and, after Alice expressed doubt in my ability to do so, was forced to deliver on my promise. I did. But it hurt.

Bent over and moving slowly we found our way to a metro station and made our way over to Connaught Place, said to be another major hit spot for tourists. And unlike the Red Fort, we loved it. As we left the station, we were met by a large and looming flag of India that stood triumphantly in the middle of a picturesque park where couples seemingly came to cuddle or even lie on top of one another, staring into each other's eyes. That's what a childhood raised on Bollywood films does to you I guess.

The next day we were forced to move to another part of Delhi. Originally, our travel company had booked for us to travel to Amritsar so we could visit the Golden Temple. However, despite me constantly reiterating the necessity of us being back in Delhi for a certain time, it eventually emerged that the muppet who made our booking arranged it so we'd miss our flight to Beijing. So, being the assertive person I am (and British), I wrote a strongly worded email that demanded we be given two extra nights in Delhi free of charge. Clearly knowing what was best for him, the travel agent quickly agreed to my terms. Hence the move.

Our new area was actually ideal. Not only was it close to tourist attractions, but the road it was situated on happened to be a bustling market full of interesting stalls and many other tourists, always a comforting sight. I liked this market. Not least of all because random Indians would strike up conversation with me, revelling in the fact I looked and then turned out to be Indian. One guy even gestured to my biceps and signalled how impressed he was by them. I'm considering moving there.

On our last full day in Delhi, we journeyed to the Lodi Gardens which was beautiful and one of our favourite places in the city. Clearly popular, the Gardens were full of Indian men, women and children, couples, families and tourists, all of whom were relaxing amongst the picturesque temples, lakes and greenery. We passed some time there before returning to Connaught Place, another favourite of ours,to have a couple of drinks in a trendy bar called Lord of the Drinks, which was loosely based on Peter Jackson’s trilogy. And by loosely I mean there was some dark orange lighting as you walked in and the bar name had the same font.

Delhi was our last stop in India as we were next heading to Beijing for the China segment of our trip. Unfortunately our flight was not until three in the morning. Check out at twelve, midday. A tedious day became even more tedious when we got to the park in Connaught Place to find it closed. Everything closes on Mondays apparently. So, big bags on back, we trudged to the Lord of the Drinks where we must have broke some sort of record for the longest time taken to drink one beer. Three hours. With a food order following soon after we ended up staying there for about four in total. Next up was Costa. One drink, two hours. Finally, we had dinner at another bar until we felt it was about time to go to the airport. One meal, 2 12 hours. Luckily the wait at the airport wasn't too bad. After about an hour of wheeling a seemingly innumerable amount of old people onto the plane, we were off and heading for China.