The rest of the journey was fairly uneventful, the "highlight" being passing the airport as we arrived at the terminus station, Old Delhi. This was a surprise to us as we thought we were arriving in New Delhi.

Ignoring the autorickshaw drivers at the station quoting exorbitant rates we agreed a price with a passing rickshaw and got dropped off at Paharganj, the backpacker area near New Delhi train station.

Having been told some scary stories about the touts and stallholders lining the Main Bazaar we were pleasantly surprised how relatively easy it was to pass through, clearly it was too hot even for them!

Delhi seems to have a climate of its own, the sun is just as hot, but the humidity just goes up a notch, a result perhaps of the pollution brought about by so many people and vehicles in the same place.

Equally surprising having read horror stories about the quality of rooms in this area (backed up by fellow travellers' accounts) we managed to get a decent-sized room with a window for a reasonable price.

We did the normal check-in procedure glugging happily at a diet coke each to satiate our thirst before going to our room and enjoying a hot shower.

We gave our laundry in after they said they would be able to get it dry by tonight and went upstairs to possibly the hottest rooftop restaurant ever. After a mediocre (at best!) but necessary meal with the usual mediocre Indian service we made our way out to enjoy what Paharganj and in particular Main Bazaar had to offer.

Continuing our mission of trying to get sleeping bags for our looming Africa trip we found some at a couple of stalls and enquired about prices. In fact we had the goods out and did everything but try them for size before walking away to the obvious annoyance of the shop owner. It's bizarre to be in such a hot, humid place but to see so many shops selling sleeping bags, woolly socks and hats but then many of the Himalayan expeditions arrive into Delhi so it's a good place to stock up on last minute camping/trekking gear.

Entranced by all the shops selling beautiful scarves and trousers in particular and "stuff" in general, I swear I lost my wife for most of the afternoon. She was there next to me in body but away with the "stuff" for most of it. I, on the other hand, was let down by the scarcity of food stalls. As a savoury man the only thing more disappointing than no stalls selling food is the number of stalls selling Indian sweets, a foodstuff seeming incredibly closely related to sugar.

At one point walking around we were joined by a young Nepalese gentleman who asked us the usual questions. To avoid any misunderstanding I asked him directly if I could help him and was pleased to hear that he was not after money but just being friendly. We continued on together and he seemed true to his word - he was on his way to his aunt's house and was just in Delhi for a wedding, returning to Kathmandu the following week.

It's such a shame that the vast majority of local people like this are tarnished by the impression you get as a foreigner of the minority who are scamsters and con artists. This impression means you're constantly and unnecessarily on edge when someone strikes up a conversation in the street.

After a sweaty but fairly thorough walk around in which Kirsty bought some cool trousers, I got two hot samosas and we bought a head torch between us, we returned to the hostel where we cooled down for the afternoon.

For dinner we went to Brown Bread Bakery a well-known establishment which does a fair bit for charity, helping to support local schools, running a women's empowerment group and treating its employees fairly.

Since it was organic produce it's a little bit more expensive than it might be but that's not an issue when it goes toward good causes. It had a very impressive meat selection (being a German delicatessen) but we stuck rigidly to vegetarianism and went for paneer burger and tomato pasta.

During checkout the following morning we reserved a room for our return in five days. For breakfast I visited an egg man on the street twenty metres away from the hostel and ordered omelette sandwich.

We were then on our way, packs on heading down Main Bazaar towards the train station. Once we arrived the incessant and repetitive tannoy announcements directed us to our train at Platform 8. Checking our names were on the paper list glued to the carriage we then visited a platform stall to grab some snacks for the imminent 17 hour journey.

We shared our little alcove on the train with six others, younger relative well-to-do Delhiites and as such got little in the way of curiosity or conversation. Nothing much newsworthy happened during the journey although it was noticeably busier than other journeys with more members of staff coming round to sell things. We had a couple of cups of chai each, a vegetable cutlet sandwich for lunch and ordered a thali-type thing for evening dinner.

It was interesting to note how many locals took to their beds for a nap between 1pm and 3pm and again went to bed relatively early in the evening. That said there's not much to do on the train so sleeping seems like an attractive option.

After eating dinner on my top bunk I lay back and went to sleep around 12, safe in the knowledge our stop, sometime before 5am was the last stop of the journey.

The lights came on and a quick glance at the watch told me it was 4.40am and the train had probably stopped at the end of the line and our stop, Varanasi.