Our train arrived on time and we found our seats/berths. Indian trains have many different class of seat varying in price depending on the perceived luxury or lack thereof. We had two berths in Sleeper Class (despite the fact we would only be travelling for five hours) which was non air-conditioned and only one class above the lowest class: Unreserved 2nd Class which is just a scrum and absolutely stuffed full of local people.

In place of air-conditioning we had open windows with horizontal bars on (presumably to stop the windows being used as entrances/exits as is the case in Unreserved 2nd Class) and as the only non-locals we got stared at, Kirsty quite a lot.

It seems to be the adolescent men who stare the most which I guess is understandable. After an hour or so the worst offenders got off and we were able to relax even more and enjoy the train journey in relative peace. It was full moon and this together with the fact that most of this part of India is pitch-black after dark made for a very atmospheric light in which to travel.

There are no announcements whatsoever on Indian trains and when we arrived at a station with Jaipur in the title, we panicked, collected our belongings and left the train but after checking with some people on the platform we were told the main Jaipur stop was the next one so we hurriedly got back on, fortunately before the train had started to move.

Having arranged a hotel pick-up we were disappointed that nobody seemed to be waiting for us when we got off at the correct stop, Jaipur Junction. This meant we were fair game to all the rickshaw drivers and hotel touts.

It was late, we were tired and annoyed that our pick-up didn't show and so the last thing we needed was incessant chatter from the locals trying to make a withdrawal from the two white walking ATMs before them. In a fit of stubbornness we decided to walk to the hostel and despite politely declining all offers of assistance we were still harassed by what felt like more and more people.

Away from the train station the harassment was fewer and further in between but it seemed any random person we did ask had never heard of our hotel, sent us the wrong way deliberately or had a hotel room of their own to offer us.

It's sad but true that an impression of a country is formed from its people (as I'm sure our Olympic visitors are finding out) and India's population let down its country on this occasion. When 75% of the people you interact with are tricksters or liars, it's very hard to form a positive opinion. I'm aware that in their culture it's also about saving face but in that case just admit you don't know.

An hour after starting we finally found our hotel having been helped by a map drawn by an employee of one of the posh hotels nearby. Part of the problem was the lack of detail in our map, part of the problem the lack of road signs. Also there seems to be very little clarity as to what is a road in the first place, much like the rest of Asia.

After a good night's sleep in fresh bed sheets we woke up late but refreshed. Kirsty unfortunately was still unwell but holding it together manfully. Today was to be a boring but necessary administration day.

Our frustration over the past week with booking onward transport left us with a feeling of being marooned and so to avoid this happening in future we wanted to book all our train tickets for our time in India which would lessen the load (we're also planning to travel by bus).

So taking it easy due to the wife's fragile tummy we left the hostel in the heat of midday and went for a walk up MI Road, the main road of Jaipur. In common with other roads in India there appeared to be very little road safety or lane discipline with the biggest vehicle and/or the vehicle with the loudest or most persistent horn dictating right of way.

Reaching our intended destination we were surprised to learn the relaxed café we thought we were heading for was in fact quite an upmarket air-conditioned restaurant in stark contrast to the dirty, dusty, noisy street outside. Too embarrassed to exit once we had entered we ploughed on regardless picking out a few "cheapies" from the menu for brunch.

After a delicious and chilled out time in the restaurant we went back out to get a cyclo to the train station which was an enjoyable way to travel for us but not for our peddler! We ignored his constant requests for a return journey instead insisting we would walk back to the hotel which neither assuaged him nor pleased him.

At the train station we completed forms for each of the three train journeys we wanted to make and joined the queue at the counter especially for tourists, freedom fighters (?) and refunds. The queue moved with its reputational slowness until we found ourselves at the front. The schedule for our whole India experience lay in the hands of the moustachioed man before us and we were justifiably nervous.

As the man entered the details of the trips into the computer database, the details were shown on a little LED screen on the Perspex glass between us (presumably so we can double-check the details). To our great relief each trip ticket showed as "Available" and paying our money we were relieved and excited to finally have some flesh on the bones that is our month in India.

Happy and proud of ourselves (we could now afford to dream about the rest of the trip) we celebrated by buying some bananas and savoury snacks from a couple of street stalls outside the train station!

Buoyed by our success and feeling like we were on a roll we risked attempting to buy our bus ticket from Jaipur to Pushkar in a few days' time. Like all bus stations around the world the place was somewhat chaotic and being Western and unable to read any of the Hindu signage we stuck out like sore thumbs.

With a little help we found an enquiry kiosk and despite it seeming a major inconvenience to him, the clerk took our money in exchange for some bus tickets. At the point of paying a couple of locals joined the queue and not being aware of the concept of personal space were a little close for comfort especially as money was being bandied around. To make Kirsty feel a little more comfortable I swapped places so that my body was in between the two men and her.

Before leaving the bus station and taking advantage of having no baggage we made ourselves aware of where our bus left from. We then came home pleased with our achievements for the day.

Back at the room we busied ourselves before ordering room service (!) and enjoying a nice dhal and naan on our balcony. We were joined briefly by our Chinese neighbour, also taking advantage of room service who told us a little about her trip and we shared a little of our time in Chengdu, her home town.

After another lazy lie-in Kirsty was still not feeling great but anxious not to waste or ruin one day she soldiered on.

Our first port of call was a recommended rooftop restaurant for some brunch. We found it with relatively little trouble and I was disappointed there was no view of the Taj Mahal (something we had grown accustomed to recently) but impressed with the cold jets of mist cooling the area.

We had a relaxed brunch amazed at the number of Westerners - sometimes on the streets it feels like you're the only ones - before returning to MI Road where we got a cycle-rickshaw to Ajmer Gate, one of the many gates of the old Pink City.

We were a little disappointed to learn that traffic has not been banned from this area but had great fun walking through all the bazaars. Although the stall holders are still irritating with their constant chatter, here at least they don't walk alongside you down the street - due no doubt to the increased footfall and therefore the knowledge that they'll be another mug/tourist along shortly.

Their method of spying the fact that Kirsty had a scarf and offering or promising to offer her the exact same scarf for ₹50 (60p) seemed illogical to us. She has one and doesn't need another one so surely it would be better to offer her something she hasn't got?!?

Seeing some cushion covers we liked the look of we took our lives in our own hands and entered the shop in question sitting on the makeshift sofa chatting to the owner while his skivvy got us a selection of covers to look at. Rajasthan people are quite curious and the man was full of chat, while showing us most of the contents of his shop. He wasn't pushy and the truth was that a lot of the stuff he showed us was really nice but we only wanted the cover.

Eventually after a couple more trips (not sure where to exactly) we were brought a cover we liked and after bartering got it at a price we all agreed before leaving the shop with the owner still offering us something else "for discount".

After walking around three sides of the Pink City (which looked more orange to us) including a stunning view of Amber Fort on the hilltop we decided we had seen enough and were happy to make our way home. Ideally we would have found a street café and sat and enjoyed a chai but it seemed to be wall to wall shops and no cafes were apparent to us.

In our haste and with Kirsty's health not being great we took a wrong turn and found ourselves in a much more local and poor neighbourhood which meant even more stares and lots of overexcited pubescent boys gawping at Kirsty.

Safely negotiating the seemingly kamikaze motorcyclists and autorickshaws together with the livestock taking up residence in the road we made our way back to MI Road. After a quick detour to a military shop to look for sleeping bags (which we need for our Africa adventure) and a bookshop we found ourselves another cycle-rickshaw to take us back to the hotel.

Once back Kirsty had a rehydration drink and a nap while I busied myself for the afternoon before we stepped out and walked the 800 metres or so to a recommended Italian restaurant with Western food the best and safest option for Kirsty under the circumstances.

What we hadn't expected was how posh it was and we felt a little underdressed as we arrived in shorts and t-shirts. The waiting staff was obviously used to people arriving like this and were nothing but welcoming and a delicious meal was enjoyed. Again though the huge disparity between India's middle-class and the poverty-stricken folk beneath was brought into sharp focus.

Indian roads at night are even more dangerous than during the day as there are no streetlights, many vehicles have faulty lights and cycle-rickshaws have no lights whatsoever! But we made it back and packed ready for our journey tomorrow to Pushkar, a deeply religious place.

The morning was a very lazy one with our bus not scheduled until this afternoon. We packed and checked out at midday ordering some brunch at the same time. We sat on our balcony to eat and whiled away a couple of hours before finally putting our packs back on and heading downstairs. The owners very kindly agreed to drop us at the bus station (perhaps still feeling guilty for the confusion with the pick up from the train station) and we enjoyed a couple of minutes of air-conditioned peace on the drive.

At the bus station we were told our bus was leaving from Platform 1 despite everything we had seen and heard telling us Platform 3 was right. Warily we made our way to Platform 1, found a beat-up old bus which was going to Pushkar, had our ticket checked and got onboard. Kirsty was still not feeling well and was disappointed to learn semi-deluxe meant a basic bus plus reclining seats, not a modern air-conditioned vehicle.

So, hot and sweaty we set off on the three hour journey. The belief I held that there are no traffic rules in India was reinforced immediately and instead it's just a matter of your size and how insistent you are with the horn.

Initially our view was obstructed by a curtain behind the driver however after half an hour the curtain blew to one side and I could watch along with our driver and at least prepare myself for the ear-screeching din. It was funny how the little boy of about 2 years old (who earlier had been hoisted out the window to go to the toilet) sat with his fingers in his ears. We knew how he felt and yet nobody else batted an eyelid.

It was also odd to us how along the hard shoulder of a three-lane highway/motorway an endless stream of people were walking, yet either side of the road as far as the eye could see was green-speckled desert, no towns, no buildings, nothing. Where had these people come from and where were they going?!?

About half an hour before our stop, we stopped at Ajmer, the nearest town to Pushkar which has a railway station. Many people got off and yet more got on the bus leading to many standing passengers. One tout got on with the express intention of handing out cards for his hotel in Pushkar despite the fact I said we already had one.

Having driven up and over Snake Pass we arrived in Pushkar where we were collected by a staff member from our hotel and shown to our very-good-value-for-money room.