Well at least we got a seat on the local bus to Jaisalmer and there was no need to ride on the roof. Clearly tourists do not use this bus often as we were stared at, very rudely at times, throughout the journey. A woman who sat next to me at one point actually turned herself to face me just to have a good look. Paul spend the first hour staring people out as they just wouldn't quit. There were some fabulous looking characters on the bus - older men with enormous turbans, large moustaches and gold earrings in both ears. Even young men had both ears pierced and wore jewel encrusted earrings. One woman had a nose piercing which was like a brass shield, she also had a silver, 'question mark' shaped, manacle-like bracelet about an inch thick. People looked much darker than elsewhere in India and had a sand-blasted, weather-worn look about them. My nosy neighbour had amazing jewellery, around 4 rings on each hand, gold encrusted with many different coloured gems - I didn't stare at 'her' face or look her up and down though! The bus conductor/ticket guy had his work cut out for him, almost everyone gave him stick or tried to haggle over the ticket price - we thought Rp182 (£2.40) each was an amazing bargain for a 6 hour (250km) journey. Another lady who sat next to me later in the journey - as mad as a bag of frogs - joked with the conductor that she had no money. That ended up as a bit of a scary fight. Soon she was fishing about her person for more 10 rupee notes, she seemed to have hiding places everywhere. The next minute I could feel my leg getting wet, I reeled in horror thinking she might have wet herself until I realised her bottle of water was leaking in her handbag. I pointed this out to her and she waved me away as if she didn't care - mad! After several hours of driving through a desert scrub landscape with the heat blowing through the windows, Paul started to feel ill. The poor thing held on 'just about' until we got to Jaisalmer, fortunately we were dropped off a short distance from the Jaisalmer Fort where our hotel Surja was based. We dived-in in the nick of time. Our hotel was built into the fort walls (see photo) and our 'Maharaja suite' window seat looked out to the town below and to the scrub desert horizon. Jaisalmer town has invested in some renewable energy - can you guess which sort, being in the blazing desert sun? Yes that's right - wind power; it has unsightly wind farms spoiling the view from the fort. They stand like a line of statues glistening in the midday sun. Like many places we have stayed in the hotel seemed to be staffed by 12 year old boys - the guy doing the cooking seriously looked no older. The problem occurs to us that, as is often the case in England but especially so in India, boys have everything done for them by their mothers. Without training, therefore, they have no concept of what clean is or how to achieve it. With Paul being ill I spent a lot of time at the hotel watching the antics of the boys, mainly texting, playing on the internet or watching soap operas. I did feel sorry for them being so tied to the place day and night. One guy had the daily job of running a hosepipe through a grid to clear the culverts. As there was an Indian soap-opera on at that time he got engrossed in the TV, forgot about the pipe and flooded our bathroom, not just once but two days running. The rooms never did get a proper cleaning; the cleaning regime seemed to consist of changing the sheets and towels, brushing the floors and then settling down to watch more telly. We decided not to take a photo of the toilet in our room but it and the sink were sickening. The hotel kitchen - Paul caught a glimpse of it behind the grimy door curtain and suggested that I didn't. The cups that they brought out to serve our tea in were gut-wrenching - I washed them myself in a nearby sink to make a point. This was not the only place where we have experienced such poor standards of hygiene, it is unfortunately the norm in budget accommodation in India. All places staffed by teenage boys and managed/owned by grown-up teenage boys. Where are the women in the tourist industry? Anyway, you can now understand why Paul has been ill so often. We took a couple of days off the sightseeing, so that Paul could recover. On our last day in Jaisalmer we did a walk round the fort, Paul stopped for a shave and was quoted the usual bargain price but was stiffed afterwards when the guy added an extra charge for the face massage. I sat outside and was quizzed seemingly by a fortune-teller. He asked me whether there were 5 or 7 letters in my name to which I replied "6 actually". He asked me my name and then said I was having the interior of my house done at the moment and about 1 year ago my life was up and down. I admitted to the first bit, but then seeing this was going to end up in a 'cross my palm' situation I denied the latter point. He then said "Ask me any question" and I gave him a speech about my view on fortune telling. I said that my life was good and I was happy at the moment and I didn't need anyone to tell me that. Also, life would either stay good or go wrong, in which case I didn't need him to tell me if it would stay good and didn't 'want' him to tell me if it was going to be bad. That seemed to cut our transaction short! Paul and I then took an auto-rickshaw out to Lodhruva a former capital that was now abandoned and lying in ruins. We had done some research and it would seems that the Jain temples there had been restored to their former glory. The ruins were a serious let down not worth a visit at all. The Jain temple was in sandstone and very similar to the marble one at Ranakpur with intricate carved pillars. The sign ouside said that menstruating women should respect the sanctity of the temple and stay away - I feel another rant coming on.... no I'll let it pass. Later that day with Paul still not recovered we would take an 18 hour (921kms) train overnight to Dehli - lovely place I imagine...