The weekend of my arrival was spent in Chennai. India's fourth largest city, situated on the south east coast of the country. When I arrived it was 18 degrees at night, 30 at midday. I stayed with Lorna, a friend of a friend who I'd been put in touch with before leaving England. There was no moment to pause before adjusting to life in lndia. Eating with your right hand and doing other 'unsanitary' activities with the left was an instant challenge. Lorna was a great host and I enjoyed having my first typical Indian breakfast of Idlis (rice dumplings) and tomato chutney.

I was shown around Chennai by another contact called Kushal. Saturday evening I was driven over to Kushal's apartment to have dinner with his family. Being on the road was both a fascinating and terrifying experience. Motorcyclists dodging cars with three passengers is commonplace here. From what I've seen there is only one rule which is driving on the left. But even that seems to be disregarded, with buses and lorries on frequent collision courses with oncoming traffic. Kushal assured me that this level of chaos on the roads is both normal and okay. "Indian men are born with the best reflexes in the world."

The main conversation topics at dinner were the Olympics, football and why I want to be a lawyer. By the end of our dinner of toasted roti (bread) and bhajee, several conclusions had been reached. India is particularly proud of their Olympic boxers. Indians don't care much for football. Unless they beat Pakistan. A lawyer is no where as good as a doctor. Politely put, "Lawyers are not well liked here."

On Sunday I went to the Chennai annual handcrafts fair with Kushal's family. In a vast hall there was an incredible range of hand made goods from across the country. Big wooden carvings of Hindu gods, beautiful, intricate paintings and finely woven straw bags. The state organises fairs such as these because India is losing part of its cultural heritage to cheap mass produced goods. As younger generations opt to study at university, less and less families are able to persuade their children to train as craftsmen. It seemed that India is developing fast and risks losing some of its culture along the way.

For lunch I was taken to a small cafe for a traditional South Indian meal called Thali, which consists of rice in the centre of a tray surrounded by small cups of curried fruits, vegetables and sauces. It was delicious and I felt immensely proud of my taste buds as the family watch on, half expecting me to dash for a water fountain.

As I left for the airport to catch my flight to Madurai, India had treated me well so far. It is an incredibly warm and welcoming country. It is also a melting pot of many religions, cultures, foods and languages. As a British History graduate I had to ask Kushal about the Empire. He said on balance it was a good thing. Without the English language, Indians wouldn't have stood a chance of communicating with one another.