We woke up early to get prepared for our flight to Delhi. After breakfast, we checked out after being disappointed to find there was no hot water again.

We took a taxi to the airport and arrived good and early . After being patted down and having our bags scanned, we went to the check in desk. It was lucky we were so early as we were quickly turned away from the check in counter for not having an onward flight out of India (a new rule, apparently). The check in staff advised us to use the free wifi in the airport; however, this required a username and password. When we asked them again, they offered to take us to their offices so we could book a flight.

A man walked us to the offices, and the staff were obliging in letting us use two computers to search for what we needed. The internet was absolute rubbish, so they reset the router for us and that helped. We wanted to go to Cambodia after India, but found the flights to be rather extortionate. After trying lots of different permutations, we settled for a cheap flight from Kolkata (previously called Calcutta, on the far east side of India) to Bangkok in Thailand (wrong country, but major hub and one of our ultimate destinations) . We were even able to use the printer to prove that we had the booking, and headed back into the airport after giving appropriate thank yous and Namastes to the staff in the office.

After being searched and scanned again, we went back to the check in desk. They didn't even ask for proof this time of onward flights. We were given our boarding cards and sent on our way. Phew.

We exchanged our remaining Nepalese rupees at a bad exchange rate to the US dollar, and passed through immigration after filling out a form to leave Nepal. Security was separate for men and women. We were told to put everything into our bags (not take out liquids etc. to show security), searched behind a screen, and were immediately asked for our boarding cards so they could be stamped to show we’d been through security. After showing our boarding cards once more, we were into departures. There was no information given on the one screen in the packed seating area, so we found some chairs elsewhere and periodically checked the board after wading through the crowds . We entertained ourselves by eating all the snacks we had left over, as by this time, breakfast felt like a long time beforehand.

Boarding started earlier than normal. We joined a big queue, presented our boarding cards, joined another queue, were patted down again, joined another queue, got on a bus, and were eventually driven about 10 metres across a roadway on the tarmac. Petrol crisis? What petrol crisis?! After saying how ridiculous this all was, we were once again separated into different lines, to queue to board the plane. This time our hand luggage was searched thoroughly. Jayna was asked to drink from her open water bottle, presumably to prove that it was actually water. After being searched once again behind a screen, and presenting the boarding card again, we were allowed on board.

All we can think is that India must need a lot of reassurance.

We’d pre-booked a meal on the plane, and this turned out to be a faintly mouldy smelling dry sandwich which we couldn’t eat . The plane journey passed otherwise uneventfully. In less than two hours, we were in Delhi, and changed time zone by a quarter of an hour. After leaving the plane, it was a long walk through the airport to reach immigration. We joined the Electronic Tourist Visa queue, which wasn’t long but took over an hour to reach the front. We presented passports, E-TVs, and an immigration form filled out on the plane. We were the last to get through immigration, and we were questioned about our relation to each other and how long we’d been married. With stamps in our passports, these stamps were checked two more times before we were allowed to get our luggage.

The luggage was off the conveyer belt and waiting for us. Two men checked our luggage tags and released us into the airport.

We needed cash, and found a cash point which was not working. We asked at a Thomas Cook branch, to have lots of swagger from a man who avoided answering the questions posed and instead offered to change our money for a mere 7% charge. We wandered off and found another broken cash point, before a working one resolved our cash issue. Disappointingly, there were charges to access our own money, and transactions were limited to 10000 Indian Rupees (about £100), necessitating multiple charges for multiple uses of the machine. Next, we found a machine which would give us metro tokens. Except that it wouldn’t give us change, and we had no change because the cash machine had only given us large notes . Resigned, we walked to find the metro entrance just outside, and headed in. There was no one at a desk to help, but there was a chap with a handful of change helping people out and getting them the right token for their needs. The metro cost us 60p each to get to New Delhi train station, a bargain for the distance. After being searched again, and having our bags searched again, we hopped on a metro and arrived into New Delhi in 25 minutes. The metro was nice, clean, smooth and rapid. We were impressed.

We exited from the metro on the east side of the New Delhi train station (this would later become important). As usual, when arriving to a new place, we were happy to walk the short distance to our hotel, to get our bearings and see the surroundings. It was not a pleasant journey. From the touts shouting at us to get in their tuk-tuks, taxis and rickshaws, to the stench of ten festivals rolled into one; the massively overwhelming level of pollution and acrid smoke, to the hoards of people and inability to cross fairly large intersections… it was a mistake to walk.

Even so, it wasn’t hard to find our road, but it was hard to find our hotel. We were staying on a road called Arakasham, which was filled with hotels, after a bridge across the railway tracks. Our hotel wasn’t where booking.com said it was. We asked for some directions from a security guard, who directed us incorrectly, but we think innocently, to a place with a similar sounding name . Eventually, after a bit of back and forth, we found the hotel near the far end of the road. On walking in, we were told that we were not actually staying in that hotel, but rather in one further back down the road we’d just walked up. A chap showed us the way. We were suspicious but were assured that it was all part of the same group, the price was the same, and the room had everything we’d been promised on booking. Except a hot shower, it did not have that.

We headed straight out to get some food, as we were really hungry. Using the advice of eat where the locals eat, we walked across the road to a 'pure vegetarian’ place, and ordered the set thali. This was like the Nepalese ubiquitous dal bhat, but slightly better, with more curries and a chapatti to accompany. It was really cheap and delicious. We escaped back to the hotel, pleased that we had made it to India, and happy that, though busy, the streets were not as overwhelming as we’d feared (Kathmandu had indeed turned out to be good practice for us).

New Delhi is now known as the most polluted city on the planet – and we could see why. On first impression, it was hard to love the innumerable vehicles spewing their exhaust emissions whilst beeping incessantly, choking smoke, men peeing in the street, and piles of rubbish everywhere. We’d planned to spend just a couple of days in Delhi, taking in the main sights before heading off to other India destinations .

On Tuesday 3rd, we had breakfast in the hotel after the pushy staff questioned us as to where we were going. It was in fact room service, and the breakfast wasn’t bad. After our first impressions, we were keen to make sure that we could indeed escape Delhi! So we tried to book our onward train tickets online, but unfortunately the government website was down. We could see that there were potentially many trains we could take, but couldn’t search for availability, or buy tickets. Determined that we should get tickets as soon as possible, we resolved to go to the government’s Foreign Visitor’s Train Booking service. We looked this up before we went, and it was based in the New Delhi train station, just a short-ish walk away. We were also acutely aware of scams relating to train tickets, of which there were many.

Well, we were nearly scammed. What happened was a sad tale of a waste of several hours, 80p in unnecessary tuk-tuk rides, and a loss of our patience with India and it’s abundance of touts.

We set off to the train station, with a man insistent on ‘helping’ us find the way. We already knew the way, so this was a little unnecessary. Ken thinks this set a whole chain of events into motion, with another man ‘helping’ us to cross a very busy road on the way. We arrived at the east side of New Delhi train station, and looked for the office . We’d read that it was on the first floor, which in India, like in the UK, means up one set of stairs. We looked around and didn’t find the office, on the ground floor or first floor. There were no signs. Staff members (or people who we thought were staff members because they were getting people into queues) told us that the office had moved to the government’s tourist information office (at 88 Janpath), because the train station was under construction. They told us very consistent lies. We kept looking and didn’t find the office. So thought we should go to the government tourist information office at 88 Janpath, because at the very least they would tell us where we should go, if they weren’t selling the tickets.

Outside, a man ‘helped’ us to get a tuk-tuk to the government tourist information office. Except that it wasn’t. The tuk-tuk driver short changed us, and dropped us off literally at the door of an office which had the sign of government tourist information office, together with a convincing looking logo . We got inside and met a chap who we shall call bully, because he was. Ken twigged almost immediately that we were in the wrong place, and as bully realised this, he got defensive and pointed to a picture on the wall, which he said showed him receiving a certificate from the President of India (self-aggrandisement). The picture proved nothing of course. Bully went on to consistently ignore what we asked for – train tickets – and instead told us our itinerary was wrong, and tried to sell us a driver for our days in Delhi, Agra and Jaipur, costing £180. He cut across us when we were talking, and clarifying that we wanted train tickets. Bully said that he searched for train tickets and found none available, and kept trying to pressure us into getting a driver between our destinations. He avoided answering our questions, placed extra pressure on us by talking about how busy India was with the forthcoming Divali, and how everything was apparently booked up. When he still wouldn’t listen to what we wanted, and kept trying to sell us things we didn’t want or need, we said we were leaving. On our way out of the offices, he shouted at us "what are you going to do, ride a bike?!" followed by him chasing us down the street and accusing us of being rude. Us, rude! We denied the accusation and he said that we weren’t doing things the way we should – ie. bartering. We again said he wasn’t giving us what we wanted, so we weren’t going to barter over things we didn’t want . Jayna shut bully down by saying that we wanted to go away and think about our options. Bully’s final ‘offer’ of a bus, costing the ridiculous price of £39 each to get to Agra, was repeated, and he said he was being generous that the offer would still be open when we changed our minds.

We walked away and talked to each other about how angry bully had made us, when another man came over and said that lots of people were ‘watching’ us and how we were unsafe. He pointed us what he claimed to be the ‘real’ government tourist office further down the road, but before we went in, we twigged that this again was not the place we were looking for. Ignoring everyone else, we used our GPS system to get us to the actual office, at 88 Janpath, and spoke to a lovely gentle chap inside. He clarified that, no, the government tourist office does not sell the train tickets, and that the train tickets were indeed sold from inside the train station. He showed us the error of our ways – that there were two different entrances to New Delhi train station, and we had used the wrong one . We wanted the WEST entrance, not the east entrance.

At no point did anywhere say this – in our Lonely Planet book, online, on blogs anywhere. So, if you are in Delhi and looking to get out, go to the WEST entrance to New Delhi train station and look for signs for the government’s Foreign Visitor’s Train Booking service, for there are many, to get you to the actual ticket office where the train tickets are, in fact, sold.

It was a complete waste of time and simply provoked aggravation in us. We were wise to people’s behaviour for future scams, which would happen in the very near future.

Another tuk-tuk ride later, we were back at the west side of New Delhi train station. There were loads of signs on this side of the station, and we quickly found the office we were looking for. (Why there were no signs on the east side of the station was and is a mystery, as that would save a lot of unnecessary hassle for so many tourists to Delhi .) When inside the offices, we took a number, filled out a requisition form with the assistance of a lady’s advice on which trains had seats available, and waited. We briefly toyed with the idea of getting a later train from Delhi, because we knew we would accomplish very little that day. We quickly decided against it and agreed to get out of Delhi soon, according to our plan. It all took a long time to get to the front of the queue, and we didn’t finish until gone 3pm. However, at last, we had train tickets for our next destination, Agra, and then from Agra to Jaipur.

We wandered down a congested, crazy road called Main Bazaar, looking for food. After eating a very late lunch, we were determined to do something nice with our day. We took a tuk-tuk to one of the attractions which was a little out of the way. Called Humayan’s Tomb, it was a mausoleum set in some gardens. We had a lovely time wandering around, and the place smacked of the Taj Mahal in its construction . On the way around, we saw peacocks, lots of birds of prey, goats and dogs. We looked at a mosque in the gardens. Some women asked for a photo with Jayna, which Jayna obliged (having nothing of value on her).

We took another tuk-tuk back to Arakasham road, and on the way the driver kept asking us if we wanted to go to a market. This was another scam, so we said no, and asked to go directly to our hotel. He even offered to lower the price of the tuk-tuk ride if we went to this market. We flatly refused. We gave the wrong hotel name in Arakasham road, as we were suspicious of everyone now.

We consoled ourselves with snacks for dinner. We were angry at the process we’d been through, the treatment we’d received, and how we’d nearly been had. Delhi was not at the top of our list of favourite places in the world.

On Wednesday 4th, we were determined to make the most of our one remaining day in Delhi . First thing in the morning, we headed south, to New Delhi, for India Gate and Rajpath. The first tuk-tuk we took was dodgy. As soon as we got on board, the driver got out his phone (a warning sign), and shortly his mate jumped on board. We headed off in the wrong direction, and then the tuk-tuk ‘broke down’ on the dreaded bridge over the railway lines. The friend told us to stay put, but we were outta there. More people tried to befriend us on the bridge so we ignored them, and walked until we could get a tuk-tuk in a place without being followed. It was exhausting, being on guard the whole time!

Once we reached India Gate, we had to cross a large roundabout to get to the gate in the centre. It was huge, with inscriptions of names of people who had died in conflicts, and an eternal flame below. We circled it, and headed off to the gardens of Rajpath. This was a two kilometre long stretch of garden and waterways, with roads running alongside and through it. We walked and avoided the tuk-tuk drivers, the man shouting at us with a basket of things for sale, and walked away from a bunch of school children asking for something we didn’t understand. We did, however, enjoy the antics of the numerous chipmunks, the swooping birds of prey, and the occasional cormorant and wading bird. After half a kilometre of walking, we turned back and could barely make out India Gate, such were the levels of pollution in the air . When we reached the end of Rajpath, we were by some impressive looking government buildings. We walked past two administrative buildings, and at the end was the President’s Palace, surrounded by army personnel and large fences. We went to get a tuk-tuk back to Arakasham road, but when discussing prices the tuk-tuk driver started shouting to his mates in the other tuk-tuks. We were out of there, not willing to be scammed again, and picked up another tuk-tuk further along the road.

Once back at Arakasham road, we picked up our washing from a man down the road, and got lunch in a nice café. The staff were numerous but inefficient and inattentive. We had to flag them down for everything, like menus and to order food. A table of Indian women playing bingo on a table next to us kept us entertained.

Our next destination of the day was north, and we decided against taking the metro because it meant crossing the tout-filled bridge again . This meant another dreaded tuk-tuk ride instead. We walked the length of Arakasham Road, speaking to only a couple of tuk-tuk drivers, but were unable to find one who did not look dodgy or would accept what we considered an acceptable rate. We walked north, putting distance between ourselves and Arakasham and the Train Station (aka scam central), and finally flagged down a tuk-tuk driver who accepted a reasonable price. We were put on edge when he turned around and headed for the notorious bridge across the train tracks, but after some stern questioning he promised us this was the way to go to get to our destination; Chandni Chowk.

Luckily, the driver was true to his word and we arrived at the east end of Chandni Chowk, just across the road from the Red Fort. However, at this point our scam-senses started tingling again. We were in the place we had asked to be, but the driver hadn't stopped yet. And though we asked him to stop, he remained in the lane farthest from the footpath. Unwilling to be dragged to a gem or textiles shop that we did not want to visit, we jumped out the next time the traffic ground to a halt and paid the man the agreed price before disappearing into the crowds.

Chandni Chowk is the main street of Old Delhi. Calling it a 'colourful bazaar' is like calling the running of the bulls a cow petting zoo. It was chaos. Sick of being constantly on guard for our possessions, passing touts and the risk of being run over, we decided to leave Chandni Chowk and head across the road to the Red Fort, in the hope of some relative peace and quiet . After fighting our way through persistent guides for hire and the oligatory gender separated scans and pat downs, we were in.

As hoped, the Red Fort was much calmer than the maelstrom outside. However, Delhi had jaded us, so everyone we saw inside the fort we eyed with suspicion, especially the groups of young men and the occasional person taking photos of us, without our permission. The Fort itself was very grand; enclosed in giant red sandstone walls and containing a number of beautiful buildings within, some made of red sandstone, others white marble. All were carved and decorated intricately, with many ornate pillars and small canals for water to be transported around the fort. One of the buildings inside the fort had also been converted into a museum containing old artefacts and weapons from the fort, which we enjoyed until we became suspicious of a group of young men who seemed to be keeping pace with us.

Satisfied with what the Red Fort had to offer us we made our way back outside and into the Old Delhi throng. From our earlier experience with Chandni Chowk we decided to only take in a small portion of the street - just enough to get to a side street a short way in that would take us to Jama Masjid, the great mosque of Old Delhi.

After the typical fight through the crowds we arrived at the mosque. Entry was free for humans but cameras carried a charge . We tried to pay for one camera, but the ticket man just assumed that we also had a camera phone, so wanted to charge us for two. We had a bit of a back and forth with him, because, even though we did have a camera phone with us, we did not intend to use it for that purpose. Besides, it was concealed so how was he to know we had one? In the end the ticket man began attempting to poke at our pockets, so we paid the extra fee just to get away from him. Upon entering the mosque area Jayna was presented with a fetching red robe to cover her bare arms so not to cause offence.

The mosque was huge, and very pretty. There were plenty of tourists there, as well as a number of people we added to our all-encompassing suspicious list. Some people tried to speak to us, and we ignored them all. We entered the mosque itself, which again was huge and beautiful, but were ushered out of the way by security guards with guns for some people we assumed were VIPs to stand and talk in the centre of the mosque. After checking out the rest of the mosque and its view over Old Delhi we took some pictures and some selfies with our camera phone (we had paid for it after all).

There was an option to climb one of the mosque's minarets for a small fee for views over the city, but we were done. Done with Delhi, done with touts, done with the crowds and the pollution. We took the second tuk-tuk we found (the first seeming suspicious) and the driver offered us a reasonable rate to take us back to Arakasham road .

We kept our usual suspicions, but by the end of the journey almost came to trust this tuk-tuk driver. He took as back exactly the way we thought we should go (retracing the roads from the previous tuk-tuk), and did not offer us any extra services. He did, however, give Jayna a free slice of coconut from a road vendor, and deterred beggars from harassing us. When we were nearly at our hotel we jumped out (we did say 'almost' trust) and made the rest of the way on foot.

That evening we left the hotel just long enough to get some more delicious thali from the pure vegetarian place across the road. On the streets we experienced some loud explosions nearby, which we were to learn was the beginning of celebrations leading up to Divali, the fire festival, on 10th November.

Lastly we returned to the hotel to settle up our bill, pack our things and retire for an early night before our early train ride to Agra the following day.