This will be my first significant solo trip for nearly 40 years!

Enchanting but tackilly touristy Jaisalmer

Monday 17 January

It is spoilt, however, by the much too conspicuous tourist industry. Everywhere there are shops selling things and worse, massive posters or signs advertising internet points, travel agents and STD points, as well as giant signs painted on the walls leading you to endless 'palace' or 'fort view' guesthouses. It's counterproductive, as I don't dare stop for fear of being bullied into buying. The pathways are picturesquely steep and windy, with uneven paving.

More seriously because of the fear that it is irreversible, is the poor condition of many of the buildings. And apparently the dramatic increase in tourism has led to an excessive water consumption which, given the virtually non-existent drainage system, means that water is threatening the very foundations of palaces and havelis just below the fort ramparts.

I loved the palace however. The architecture and views were great (roll on, photos). And I like the slight feeling you are at the end of the world, with nothing but desert stretching out in all directions beyond what is, by Rajasthan standards, a not very big town.

Then on to the Jain temples. On the whole I find the white marbled pinnacled exteriors of Jain temples more pleasing than the interiors, which are pretty remarkable, absolutely packed with statues, but somewhat overwhelming.

Lunch turned out to be a bit of a treat. I stumbled down to the tourist place nearest to my room: 8 July Restaurant, with a terrace looking out over the main square and the palace. I w2as greeted by the priprietor, who firmly told me what were good options on the menu and that I should be having plain rice rather than chapatis with what I had ordered. I liked that.

Then she came to chat to me and told me her rather surprising story. Her husband, the owner of the restaurant, is a Jaisalmer man, whose first wife was an Australian Indian. The marriage didn't work, as the wife wanted her husband to live in Austyralia and didn't want to live with her mother-in-law. (Somehow in all this story, the husband actually acquired an Australian passport, but only goes there to visit now.) Anyhow wife number two, who worked in the family stocktrading business in Bombay before her (second) marriage, pressured by her daughter, answered a newspaper ad by this man, seeking a second wife. He wanted someone more educated than his sister-in-laws, for companionship and to help look after the extended family (he is the only earner). It's clearly been a surprisingly successful marriage. She is fond of him, cares for the mother-in-law, and organises the household accounts (leaving her sister-in-laws who are illiterate to do the housework and cooking). Her husband taught her to cook - very well -and she now runs the restaurant. She plans a trip to Europe, partly financed by giving Indian cookery lessons. I gave her Ajay's address but warned her that he was already an excellent cook. We had one of those chats that make the trip. It is so nice to meet a woman of my age with whom one can chat, despite the differences in culture. We have exchanged email addresses.

She told me where to go to get a good view of the sunset. It was a spot where she and her husband often go with a picnic, and much calmer she said than the usual viewpoinbts. Huh. Whyen I took my rickshaw there, I was pestered non-stop by women and children who have clearly turned this spot into their personal begging patch. And there were lots of Japanese young, so I was not alone. Never mind. The sunset was indeed beautiful.

I had decided to cut my visit to Jaisalmer short by a day (the hotel experience) and said goodbye to the various guesthouse people (who had very kindly let me retain my room after the mid-day checkout) and nephew and set off for another wait at a station. Initially I was alone in the dingy waiting room, apart from the suspiciously frequent visits by the many soldiers on the platform to the loos in the corner. Then I heard a curious noise and in walked a very large cow. It ambled over to my luggage, which I had rashly left on the floor, sniffed it and suddenly bit off the label. Slightly alarmed, I grabbed the bags and put them out of cow-reach. I tried to shoo the cow out, but it head-butted me. I tried to go out to ask for help, but the cow firmly blocked the entrance. I never thought I could be scared by a cow! So I sat down and stared at it. Eventually it got bored by this, and ambled out.

Later I was joined by several cheery backpackers, including an Australian who was travelling after a stint doing software engineering further south in India.

There was then chaos. The railway computer system had been down all day - nephew had been going to the station at intervals to change my reservation, as you have to have a reservation to travel on a night train. Information was difficult to obtain, but I had been told to talk to the conductor 15 minutes before departure. No conductor, and plenty of other people in the same situation. So we all crammed into the train, and those without tickets tried desperately to find vacant berths. Luckily my (lower) one was not claimed by anybody else. Perhaps they knew that the ones int he gangway were narrower and you got buffetted by anybody who passed.