Firstly apologies for the lack of communication, we are on the road, rushing hither and thither, and it took me three days to realise that the last blog I posted, from Varanasi, got chopped off the second paragraph. Sorry to leave you hanging! Normal service has been resumed, albeit belatedly as I just haven't had time to write as we are just too busy being tourists.

Our departure from Varanasi was delayed by four hours due to that interminable damn fog, which actually wasn't as bad as you might imagine an Indian delay could be. The airport is new, the seats were moderately comfortable, we had our books and we had only the prospect of what, according to tripadvisor, was to be a fairly dire hotel we had been checked into in Delhi at the start of our tour round Rajasthan, so we were in no real hurry, unlike all the poor souls who had connecting flights they were in danger of missing. We also had that packet of Mcvitie's digestives, so how bad could it be?!

As we, finally, drew close to the hotel at just before 11pm, our fears as to whether it was going to live up to its tripadvisor reviews were realised as we surveyed the locale with mounting horror and incredulity. Grubby men were standing around open fires, mangy dogs snuffled through piles of rubbish for scraps, desolate buildings looked unfit for human habitation, rusty cars clung to the side of the road and over it all hung a heavy pall of fog, or was that just the smoke from the opium den? We clung tighter to the door handle and peered forlornly out from the safety of our taxi.

Although the hotel shone a welcoming beacon of gaudy light onto the scrubby side street in which it resided, the interior was cold and forbidding, everything was clad in marble or dark wood, and we hurried to our room along a cold white marble corridor lit only by a weak 10 watt lightbulb, hoping not to bump into any large rats or crack dealers touting for business. A notice on the back of our bedroom door advised that if we required hot water we would need to ring reception ten minutes in advance of washing. We felt more like time travellers than tourists. Surprisingly we survived the night.

In the morning we went to breakfast with no great hope or anticipation of any form of culinary expertise and we were not to be disappointed. The dining room was in the basement, and breakfast was presided over by a miserable looking man in the corner who had taken charge of the toaster and a sheet of paper, on which he was busy recording exactly how many eggs, bananas, lumps of butter and individual jam cartons had been used by the motley assortment of guests.

Every so often the breakfast Gestapo would break off from his calculations to ring random rooms and order them down to eat as it was now '8 o'clock and breakfast finishes at 9 am'. He was obviously expecting a rush at quarter to and hoping to reduce the inevitable pressure on the toaster.

During one of his rare moments of distraction I managed to smuggle a banana into my bag to eat later. I had to pray that there would not be a random bag search on the way out. Or searchlights.

We met up with our fellow travellers, a mother and daughter (Catherine and Nicole). Bri can't believe his luck; they're from Ireland, and they're wearing bath towels. He does a little jig of excitement.

Our tour guide is called Nareesh and we present him with our first problem almost immediately when he shows us to our travelling vehicle - all the luggage has been placed on one of the rear seats, so poor old Brian squeezes in next to the cases and the three of us are on the middle row of seats. It's way too cramped for two weeks of travel and so another car has to be summoned, but when it turns up we realise that the back seat is really too uncomfortable for travelling any distance, and whilst we can of course swap seats as we go along, why should two of us always be travelling in the 'cheap seats'? And so we negotiate for a larger vehicle, which of course costs us more money, and suddenly the morning is almost gone.

The new vehicle could not be arranged straightaway so we continued in the old one for the first day. The traffic was terrible out of Delhi, I've never seen a traffic jam like it, everyone just pushes and manoeuvres their way nose to tail with the vehicle in front, blasting their horns, bumping over roadworks, using the side roads, changing lanes, creating whole new lanes; there are no road rules here. And not much Tarmac either it seems judging by the amount of dust.

We finally arrived in Mandawa, our first stop in Rajasthan, at 6pm on New Year's Eve. Naresh has told us that he has arranged a 'surprise' for us. People who like to spring constant surprises, as Naresh seems to do, seem to do it for the gush of gratitude and exclamation of pleasure that we surprisees are obligated to provide. It turns out that Nareesh is rather fond of surprises, and we grow less fond of them as the days progress. But this is one of his better ones, a full on party in the next door hotel, commencing with dancing horses led by men in uniform.

Brian is given a turban to wear, and we get brightly coloured scarves. There is lots of entertainment; musicians and dancing girls included. The highlight promises to be a pole dancer. Brian becomes very interested at this point and works his way to the front of the stage for a birds-eye view. Turns out an Indian pole dancer is a bloke who kneels on the floor balancing a mini maypole on his chin trying to get little strings of beads caught on the prongs using only his facial muscles. I may have made it sound more interesting than it actually was, in which case I apologise.

Brian returned to our table bitterly disappointed.

The night ended with fireworks and a little group hug. Our travelling companions are looking like they are going to be fun, we've got a new, big, comfy van on the way and the whole of Rajasthan to explore, what could possibly go wrong?

Happy New Year peeps xxx