Puppet porn

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Our tour has now started, and the feel of the holiday is different- an element of "if you look to your left, you can see..." has crept in. Two-minute photo stops for the less important monuments; everyone shuffles off the bus, braves the hordes of hawkers and takes an identical photo. But I complain to much- we're certainly packing in the sights, and covering a lot more ground than we would on our own. The group we're with (13 people) is nice, and bizarrely includes the sister of one of Linda's colleagues (Hi Bela!).

It would be tedious to list all the things we've seen, but that's not stopped us so far, so here goes: Humayan's tomb in Delhi (Taj Mahal Lite- one of the highlights of Delhi), Qutab Minar (75m high ornately carved tower- possibly the origin of the word 'minaret'), and then the Taj itself. Once you have completed the compulsory manouevres (i.e. the Lady Di bench photo, the silly photo where you pretend to grab the top of the Taj) you can don your blue plastic bootees that make you look like a Smurf and wander round the monument itself. It's pristine and white- very unusual in India- thanks to a recent cleaning operation akin to giving it a face pack. (The same unguents that Indian ladies use to whiten their skin has been applied to the marble).

Aside from the above, forts are now our forte. We've seen the Red (in Delhi), the Agra (in, er, Agra), and the Amber forts (reached via a rather lackadaisical elephant ride- we were overtaken on the way up by other elephants, pedestrians, the lame etc.) Each of these is not really a fort, more a complex of palaces that once housed various maharajas and their thousands of concubines and eunuch guards. (The picture, by the way, is Fatehpur Sikri, another such complex just outside Agra). Our guide have sometimes lost themselves in euphemism when describing the goings-on of these harems- the ladies of the court were described as "well-qualified, one way and the other". This met with puzzled looks from our group, so we enquired further- he meant that they swung both ways.

We're now in Jaipur, the Pink City. We're staying in a restored palace, which is far too nice for the likes of us (but only GBP15 a night!). We had a group welcome dinner on the rooftop last night, which was enlivened by a raunchy puppet show- e.g. the presentation of 'Romeo and Juliet' focused rather less on the conflict of family loyalties than the precise bedroom activites (v. athletic) of the titular couple. After the show, we were invited to join the Indian traditional dancing. Linda led the charge and was first up to dance (opposite a 12 year old boy).

We continue on into the desert tomorrow. Journeying by bus is a hoot, partly because of the ever-changing menagerie of animal life that saunters past the window. Endless cows and water buffalo, elephants, monkeys, camels, adorable miniature squirrels (aka tree mice), snakes, dancing bears (how medieval!)... we are becoming almost jaded, and will only raise an eyebrow if a shark paddles past the window. Added to this is the thrill of Indian driving, which is done very fast and with generous use of the horn (or 'the Indian brake pedal', as it is known). We barrel down potholed highways, veering in between tractors, rickshaws and astonishingly unconcerned pedestrians, and repeatedly play chicken with oncoming Tata trucks and other tourist buses full of terrified travellers. We have come to the conclusion that it is best not to look at the road ahead- it will only alarm you.

Oh, and we bought a carpet! The pressure of endless cups of sweet tea finally got to us. Hopefuly the DHL-wallah will be able to help us out; Paul, we may be sending this to you at Roc...

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