Fortified by a great sleep, I only woke briefly to the sounds of the old man (aka Pavarotti) next door welcoming in the new day, and by two poached eggs on toast (why do they always taste so good abroad?), I set of to find the local tourist office through the medieval narrow streets. The atmosphere is noticably different here; a combination of the size of the town, the lack of tourists and the fact that everything is pretty much within walking distance. Instead of the usual tourist wares and touts, locals are wandering around and the shops are filled with everyday Indian items such as plastic coloured taps, kites, sweets, silverware, school books, fabrics, truck decorations, fruit, veg, bangles, ayervedic medicines - all clumped in together depending on thier speciality. The bizarrest shop was the
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