At around 6am the train rolled into New Delhi train station. Bleary-eyed and long after the well practised locals, we got ourselves and our stuff together, bid goodbye to our fellow tourists and started the long walk to our hotel.

At that time Main Bazaar was relatively quiet although we were still thrust the odd hotel business card and hassled for rickshaw rides.

In contrast with other hotels our room was not ready and we had to register before we could go to our room on the very top floor.

Once in the room we slept for a number of hours before going for brunch at a local restaurant. Still not feeling great and with the oppressive heat and humidity to deal with, today was going to be a low activity day.

After lunch we returned to the train station to use the ATM before wandering along Main Bazaar (much, much busier than earlier!) where after some friendly bartering we bought a couple of sleeping bags for our camping adventure in Africa due to start in the coming days. We also visited a pharmacy and another shop to top up our general provisions for Africa.

We both had a bit of a clearout/inventory check of our backpacks after we woke up this morning, putting a load of stuff in for laundry and ditching some clothes and bits and pieces. It's very easy to collate items as you travel and to become attached to inanimate objects such as clothes very quickly. We knew we needed to reduce the load as we were always planning to buy sleeping bags. It was just harder than we imagined!

Having done this, Kirsty then couldn't resist filling some of the space we created with a pair of leather sandals from a stall at the bazaar. They were a bargain apparently….

Shopping done we returned to the room before heading out for some dinner. After a frustrating and futile attempt to use the hotel's Wi-Fi (an Indian culturally can never admit he is wrong)we returned to the local eatery to take advantage of their internet connection, this being our last chance to contact loved ones for a little while.

Before sitting down to eat we went to a bookshop where surprise, surprise our recently bought paperbacks were suddenly next-to-worthless in part-exchange. Firstly why aren't you able to exchange books free of charge like in China/South America (surely an enterprising hostel owner must see a gap in the market) and secondly why are second-hand books so expensive? In India they cost about the same as a night's accommodation.

Swapping to bananas and lassis to try and soothe the volcano-like stomach we had a very bland dinner before starting our new books back in the room, so that we were close to the bathroom.

That night Kirsty joined me in metaphorical sick bay, spending the night up and down on various trips to the bathroom.

We got up late after eking out every moment possible and checked out at the latest time, midday.

For brunch we headed to the same café to make use of their internet once again. We managed to while away a number of hours partly because we were in no rush and partly because of their slow service. Spotting that banana split was on the specials I thought I'd treat myself to this.

When the bill came, I noticed I had been charged full price for the banana split and so I queried this. I was told that I had ordered the banana split from the main menu not from the specials board. Arguing calmly and logically with this viewpoint made no difference, culturally Indians do not admit making mistakes, something about saving face. The world's gone mad!

We then returned to the lobby of the hotel and sitting in the couch we passed the rest of the afternoon watching India's equivalent of Crimewatch with the hordes of hotel employees who seem to spend their day watching the world go by.

A man then came by at 5pm with our pre-arranged taxi. It had been raining all day and expecting to be taken to a waiting taxi, instead the man grabbed up our bags and carried them to Main Bazaar where we stood in the rain waiting for the transport to arrive. The taxi and driver duly arrived and we got ourselves in at which point the bag man asked for a little tip. We ignored him and he stormed off empty-handed.

The van that had arrived was somewhat beaten-up and dented, not unusual in India where the only road rules seem to be "fill any gap" and "give way to bigger vehicles only" but the condition of the driver was a real cause for concern.

Not long into the journey the van got a puncture and we had to get out and wait for the driver to change the tyre before we got snarled up with everyone else in gridlocked traffic.

An hour and a half after leaving Delhi (twice as long as anticipated) we arrived at the airport when again despite already having been paid, the driver then asked for a tip. At this point the punctured tyre somehow fell off the van and idled across the lanes of traffic. Using this as a distraction, we walked off unimpressed.

In contrast with the rest of India and much to our frustration there appeared to be military-led stringent rules and regulations about who could enter the airport. Since our flight wasn't actually until the following morning we weren't allowed in. (We had arrived early as we'd believed the airport would be a more enjoyable place to kill time.)

We were however allowed in a visitor lounge upon furnishing of our flight details and passport. It all seemed absurdly officious in a country which wouldn't bat an eyelid if I decided to relieve myself in plain sight on the street (as so many Indian men seem to).

By hook or by crook we managed to get ourselves in Arrivals where we initially spent time at a Costa Coffee outlet. With a variety of newspaper, book, conversation and wandering around the paucity of shops it was soon after midnight and we were able to check in our baggage, once again choosing the slowest check-in queue and managing to confuse the employee because we were transiting through Doha. As Kirsty said this is their job every single day, why does it catch them by surprise and take them so long to deal with the general public?

The last thing we did before going through Departures was to buy some US Dollars which would be more useful to us in Africa than Indian Rupees. Once in Departures we had a mooch around the more expansive range of shops before having some dinner at McDonalds - our first meat meal for four weeks!

When boarding time arrived we went to the gate and boarded the plane, pleasantly surprised by the luxuriously spacious seating even in economy class. The plane was huge being 3-3-3 seating with individual entertainment systems on each seat.

With the electronic distractions the flight passed in a blur and it wasn't long before we were coming in to land at Doha. Doha is clearly an airport used to transiting passengers as we all had different coloured boarding cards, each colour representing a different passage through the airport. Doha is also extremely hot, the outside temperature being 34 degrees despite it being only 7am.

We only had an hour until our next flight and by the time we got ourselves where we needed to be, it was time to board the next aircraft. Originally we didn't have seats next to each other however after a quiet word I swapped seats to be next to my wife.

The plane was slightly smaller but nearly as luxurious as the previous one. Our second breakfast was nearly as delicious as our first one! Poor Kirsty was struggling with her stomach and many trips followed to the bathroom.

At 12.30 we finally touched down at Nairobi airport. It was such a nice change to exit the plane to a pleasant temperature of 18 degrees, so nice to be cool for once!

We filled in our visa paperwork and entry cards joining the queue to get the necessary to get into the country. The customs officer was surprisingly nice when we got to the front. The conversation didn't get off to the best of starts as he asked us what we were doing here and I replied (thinking by "here" he meant in the queue rather than Kenya in general) that we needed visas. Despite this and after we explained we were leaving Kenya tomorrow, he told us he would give us a transit visa rather than a full visa, thereby saving us some dollars.

Our bags were waiting for us after we got our stamp much to our relief. We organised ourselves a taxi with a friendly local man who, once the drive got into central Nairobi also acted as a local guide too pointing out many places of interest as we drove by.

After an hour of driving through gridlocked traffic we eventually reached the hotel which even had a porter to carry our bags, a far cry from India.