I've covered my head and shoulders when visiting temples, out of respect. I've even come to terms will being utterly ignored whilst David is engaged in conversation. But, watching men splash about, practically naked, in cool waterfall-fed pools, while their wives stood watching, is just too much!

Love my husband, but I'm not about to be dragged 40-min uphill to a waterfall just to be a spectator. Luckily, my loving husband agreed.

So, tiered as we were after recovering from our recent illness, we staggered further up the hill until we came across another, quieter, swimming pool. But alas it didn't stay quiet for long. At least this time the men were joined by women, who joyfully splash each other -- but only after one was pushed in fully clothed.

So we waited.

Then, pouncing on a sudden lull, we scrambled up the last little bit of the hill to a hidden plung pool -- where I could swim unconcerned about prying eyes. It was deliciously cool. And very welcome after the long, dusty climb.

You need to understand, Rishikesh is where you come to do very little. So this was one of our only outings. We're staying in the secluded and leafy backpacker-community of High Bank -- where you can do early morning yoga on the roof tops, connect with fellow travellers, and laze away the days with a cold beer. It offers a welcome retreat from the hassle and bustle of the busy town that hugs the banks of the River Ganges, on either side of Lakshman Jhula suspension bridge*. So as you might have guessed, we only ventured down there a couple of times, for variety -- mostly to sit in the abundant westerner-friendly cafes overlooking the bridge, or to wander the lanes of stalls selling an assortment of colourful traveller garb.

* used by pedestrians, motorbikes, cows and monkeys.