Delhi

We are leaving Delhi on a 9 lane highway which has come to a grinding halt. The reason that the traffic has stopped is that the highway reduces to 3 lanes a mile or two further on. Clearly, the standard method of clearing the backlog is for everyone to blast their horn simultaneously and continuously. Strangely, this seems to work and we are soon on our way again.

As we taxied to our stand at Delhi International on our Bravo flight from Kochin we spotted Air Force One parked up at the far side of the airport.

We had arranged to be met at the airport by a former lady of the night, now trained to drive, given a taxi and set on the road to self sufficiency and rehabilitation. Unfortunately, she didn't turn up and we were left to negotiate a taxi to our hotel on our own. The Indian head shake is odd to us. Nodding the head up and down means no - shaking from side to side is yes. We set off for our hotel with a driver who didn't read or speak English but who had managed to convince us with much nodding and shaking that he knew where our hotel was. This was optimistic on our part and this became clear when, after half an hour or so, he began stopping the taxi and having animated conversations with pedestrians. I bet Obama didn't have this sort of problem getting to his hotel. Eventually he found someone who knew where our hotel was and we were soon delivered into the tender mercies of the Good Times Hotel.

Delhi was cold and damp, our room was freezing and we had no hot water. Fortunately, the hotel had one blower heater and we managed to get our hands on it first. We were the lucky ones, at least our room had a window - sadly it looked directly on to a brick wall. The Good Times is situated in the car body repair area of Delhi. This gives it a bit of an industrial ambience.

We took our first tentative steps over the threshold and within 10 minutes were intimidated into taking a Tuk Tuk ride to a temple. We were duly invited to disembark at a tailor's shop. Having experienced this little trick in Bankock, we refused to get out or to pay and after much hand waving and head shaking we were on our way again to the temple.

After a fantastic Dossi lunch (big, thin pancake with a mashed potato and pea filling, accompanied with gravies and pickles), we were advised by the tourist office to take the Metro to the Lotus Temple. After and hour, crushed in the carriage like a sardine (it was OK for Susan who was in the more spacious ladies carriage) we arrived at the magnificent Lotus Temple. The Lotus Temple is very reminiscent of the Sydney Opera House only, rather than being in the shape of several tortoises getting friendly, it is in the shape of a lotus flower, the universal symbol of peace and harmony. Given a better setting it would surely be one of the worlds best modern buildings. Unfortunately, it was closed and we had to make do with a view from a distance.

That night we met and had dinner with our fellow travellers and guide Jai. There are two New Zealand youngsters en route to London, two ladies from London, who Fiona had booked through STA, two Canadians, two American men and us. They are all very nice and I think that we are all going to get along very well.

Next morning was National Day and President Obama was guest of honour at the parade and celebrations. The centre of town was closed off and much of the Metro system was not running. Our planned activities were postponed until the afternoon when the rain went off and the sun came out. We had great fun scooting about central Delhi in taxis designed for four passengers but actually carrying five each. Myself and and Lee took turns of going in the boot to keep costs down to a very reasonable £10 for 5 of us for the whole afternoon. The sites were magnificent - the Qutub Minar which is a 75 metre tall tower dating back to 1193 marking the first Muslim rulers in India and Humayun's Tomb built in 1565 to house the body of the second Mughal emperor. This tomb was the inspiration for the design of the Taj Mahal.

Back to the motorway where this narrative began - after 2 hours we were finally clear of Delhi and about to cross the state border. Taxes had to be paid in order for our bus to progress to Jaipur. Our driver had to stop the bus on the motorway and then dash across seven lanes of fast moving, densely packed traffic in order to get to the payment booth. We all had our hearts in our mouthes as we watched him dodge the cars and trucks. Wouldn't it have been safer to have the booth on the same side of the motorway as the buses that have to pay the tax. There is very little evidence of a 'Health and Safety' culture in India.