Now relaxing on a Sunday night and already being castigated for the lateness of this blog posting (Helen!!), I’m really getting into the swing of this Chinese New Year holiday. Cass has been busily scurrying around most of the day doing all sorts of “holiday cooking”, like batches of lemon butter and getting the makings of chicken soup ready. The weather is typical Taiwanese CNY weather, cold and slightly miserable, the humidity allowing the cold to seep inexorably through your whole body. The only solution is to have a hot shower, sit in front of a heater or under a blanket. We did all three and it worked just fine!

During the week, we had another great Taiwanese experience: a traditional local wedding to attend. We both were locked away in meetings till 5 p.m., so barely had time to get home and changed before braving the peak hour traffic for a ride downtown to the “Amazing House”, which is actually the name of the wedding venue! The trip itself was a hoot as we had to trust the taxi driver’s little idiosyncrasies in taking various shortcuts to get there…I reckon I knew a better way, but I trusted the expert.

Our landlord of some nine years, Mr. Lee, lives on the second floor of our apartment block, directly below us. For the majority of that time, and especially before my still rudimentary Chinese skills improved, we dealt almost exclusively with his older daughter, Linda, whenever little issues arose. She would often turn up unannounced at the most inconvenient of times and settle in to talk at great length about nothing much at all. These days, mercifully, I am usually able to converse with Mr. Lee directly and cut out these extra sessions of English language practice! Linda, did however, help us a lot over the years, so we were quite delighted to accept her invitation to the wedding party.

Party it was, as Linda and her husband Jim had been married on the very auspicious date of 01.01.2011 in a registry office somewhere we suspect. The wedding party was the extravaganza afterwards. Our first task was to ascertain how much money we should put inside the traditional “red envelope”, the wedding present of cash that is the norm here. After consulting various local friends and colleagues and getting different answers (!), we decided to go with the luckiest numbers (very important apparently!), avoid any numbers that sounded like the word “death” (four), and basically go big. We thought we couldn’t lose. Next, what to wear? There were no directions on dress, so Cass dressed “mid formal” and I just decided to wear what I usually wear to work. Ended up being a good choice…we were in the mid range I reckon.

Upon arrival, Mr. Lee was very excited to see us and we were ushered back to an anteroom where Linda and Jim and close family were having photos taken. We both felt a little embarrassed until Mr. Lee led us to a table and left us alone! The hall was decorated quite sumptuously and satin and bows and flowers were the order of the day. A slide show of shots featuring Linda and Jim was on high rotation a couple of giant screens and they were classic. As is the fashion here, the bride and groom get most of their wedding shots taken pre-wedding in various romantic locations and in various formal and informal outfits. We were treated to shots against railway cars, dangling bare feet in water and cuddling of teddy bears along with a couple of rather strange ones with faux snow in the background…Taiwan?!

The reception itself was also full of wonder for us. The bride and groom entered through a gaudy flowery arch to various English pop songs all about love, some of them slightly weird and inappropriate! They had various choreographed roles to perform, all announced and commentated upon by the MC who was a paid employee of the reception hall. There were no speeches, but a succession of delicious expensive Chinese courses was served at regular intervals. Cass was fascinated how they all arrived at once, fresh and piping hot, for over 200 people: it was a mighty feat! There was orange juice and some rather rough red wine, which became more palatable after the third glass I discovered! The people at our table, in fact every other table as well, were all Chinese and spoke just Chinese. We were a very strange curiosity!

Instead of throwing a bouquet, Linda invited all the single women on stage to take part in a particularly strange ceremony where they seemed to grab hold of a streamer and she grabbed the other ends. We couldn’t figure out if it was the last or the first to break the streamer, but one twitterpated young woman was dutifully nominated as the next probability to become married. Very soon after this, the wedding entourage did a quick circuit of the room, stopping at each table to toast and be photographed and filmed. When the MC did her chatter at the end of this it was time to go! We got a quick shot in front of the arch with the happy couple, were given a very large box of “Gorgeous Romance” wedding cookies (yes, really!) and away we taxied home.

Great fun, but not as good as this decadent week ahead is shaping up to be….

I got a taste of the colour and spectacle of the approaching Chinese New year when we took the kids way downtown to the puppet theatre mid-week. An early arrival meant a stroll down the dockside streets and alleys near the old trading port on the Danshui River, which used to be the bustling hub of Taipei City at the turn of the century. The area is now more famous for its iconic fabric market and also the fact that Dihua Street transforms itself into a sea of brightly coloured traditional foods and sweets as the Chinese New Year approaches. All sorts of wonderful edibles can be found here, along with all sorts of very mysterious packages: it’s probably better to be a little more adventurous, but I can’t bring myself to sample foods that look like they’ve been made as mutant, viral dog biscuits to be fed to a subjugated nation under a victor’s control. Oh, and the smells….well, enough said!

The theater is housed within a very old restored building with hints of the Japanese occupation, in its carved stonework and finials. Inside the house has been kept pretty much intact as well and I was in fear of the lives of our little kiddies as they traversed the narrowest, steepest stone staircases, all devoid of handrails and with potential head splitting falls just a bump away. I let my breath out audibly each time they successfully negotiated another floor! The puppets were actually really interesting, showcasing puppets from around the world but particularly Asia, including a Vietnamese water puppet tank on the rooftop.

Cass and I both had our respective Book Clubs on Friday night and once again they proved to be rather different experiences. Mine starts at about 9 o’clock, by which time Cassy’s is nearly winding up! The fare at ours is a lot of Taiwanese liquid gold in the shape of the tasty and originally named, “Taiwan Beer” (so much of which was drunk that we drank the bar dry and had to switch to another type!), yet Cassy’s consists of various home cooked delicacies perhaps accompanied by a couple of glasses of wine or champagne. As surprising as it may seem however, we do indeed both talk about books, and the boy’s version takes away recommended tomes presented by our fellow members: therefore, I’ve always got something new and different to read!

I’m suffering from an acute attack of laryngitis which came on about halfway through Friday night and I’m still restricted to a whisper now. I find it very frustrating! Partly because of this and the accompanying cold or flu or whatever brought it on, we haven’t felt much like venturing out this weekend, but instead have read a lot and watched all sorts of sport on TV. The Australian Open tennis has been providing great entertainment as has the cricket which is on right now.

Cass and I are both really looking forward to our Chinese New Year break next week: its only 3 weeks after Christmas holidays, but they already seem a long time ago! Photos: Puppet theatre and surrounds and a couple of shots at Wendels for our 23^rd wedding anniversary. Books: Cass is reading the Rankin that I bought in Delhi (The Complaints) and I’m diving into the Stieg Larsson trilogy with the first on my e-reader, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.

As reticent as I am to dare speak for another, I feel I must try to relate a short second hand account of Cassy’s recent sojourn back to the land of wine, cheese, beauty, art and refinement. My delightful partner is reluctant to put fingers to keyboard, but as I am about to select some photos to make a slide show (yes, that task has fallen to me too!), I feel it needs at least some literary accompaniment.

On a dreary and frigid weekend, we spent a great deal of time indoors. The Taipei mercury hinted at a single digit temperature, but the actual feel was in tiny numbers due to the bone seeping cold from the high humidity. Our tiny blow heaters worked valiantly enough, but didn’t seem to make a dent in the tall wall of icy air, except when we went outside for a comparison! It was in this climate that I viewed the very worthy 950 photos of the big European adventure, many taken in similar climactic conditions and as I watched got my main commentary from Cass on their travels.

Cass and her mum met up at their pre-arranged meeting place at Hong Kong airport with minimal fuss and although Valerie is keen not to see the inside of HK airport for some time after her marathon session there, the girls were soon winging their way to Paris and then on the train to Nantes. The e-ticketing worked well on this leg and subsequently on each trip they took: the futuristic TGV whisked them at warp speed around the country without missing a beat, their seats assigned and waiting and their journeys interesting and comfortable.

The beauty of the French city was evident again in each of the destinations they visited on this trip. At Christmas and New Year, cities, towns and villages dress themselves proudly for the festivities and twinkle their way from dusk into night in a varied and delightful symphony of light. Centre Ville is the place to be and streets and lanes draped in electronic veils of colored lights welcome each visitor, dissipating the crunching cold and signaling a happy and vibrant place to mingle. Nantes was one such city. The river was seething through the middle of town from the recent rain and snow and the riverside walks were lined with pretty paths and wide boulevards where glistening, new trams whispered along. The atmosphere was bright and crisp, city streets clipped and preened, swept and cleaned.

Bordeaux impressed as large but not unwieldy: again a superb transport interchange of light rail, buses and trams combined to get the bustling population headed where they needed to be. The chequerboard of houses on ancient streets impressed with sandblasted cleanliness and loving restorations: the cities just achingly beautiful in architectural style and feel. We discussed how very different our trips were: in fact the destinations stood at different ends of many scales, yet each held its own special magic.

Of course art was high on the agenda, not always formal viewing of traditional art, yet it was occasionally. Some tours of castles and other buildings housing historical artifacts or telling a visual history of the city’s past were taken. On a number of occasions, Cass and Val ventured out on organized tours to wineries for the day, the chateaux hosting them in some cases still housing the vigneron’s family. Their tastings were held in sumptuous sitting rooms amongst the families own possessions and some special moments were had as they toured the cellars and basements protecting precious drops hundreds of years old. Their guides invariably were immensely passionate about their work and that of the vineyard in its wine production and so keen to impart this passion to the strangers they guided. These days were some of the best highlights of their trip.

Cassy is a real linguist. I am totally convinced of this gift even more after this trip. We hadn’t been to France for about 7 years  and I know she has had precious few moments to use the language since, apart from a couple of Christmases back when she spoke with Lorenz and his wife Geraldine in Sumba. From day 1 on this trip, she was able to drop straight into the vernacular and re-produce her native rolling “r”s and Parisian accent without a second thought. This is a sensational skill set to have and stood them in great stead once again in delighting their hosts wherever they went, eliciting comment about her skills and lack of foreign accent. A genuine fillip for weary hotel staff, tour guides and waiters I imagine to be able to converse with and understand their guests so well.

Paris’s magical charms were evident all over again as mother and daughter traversed the city well known to both of them. They made a conscious effort to explore a little further afield or in new and different places from where they had both been before. A little side trip to the super exclusive enclave of the Place Vendome provided a point of interest. Nestled amongst some of Frances biggest names, aforementioned Lorenz had his “store”. It wasn’t open of course: no doubt he was in Nihiwatu enjoying the sun and the waves! Cass and I had never made it to Napoleon’s grave and this was a special visit. The edifice was colossal and the grandeur posturing, yet the classic French understated elegance and style had managed to pervade even this gigantic, patriotic nod to the state.

Their train trip to Versailles saw them join a staggering number of visitors, who matched the vast numbers of Parisians on the street: Cass wondered if the population had exploded in a few short years. The palace delighted them again, the timeless attraction of the hall of mirrors, the opulent furnishings and decoration and the contrast to the immaculately manicured, snow carpeted grounds beyond had them transfixed for hours.

The Grand Palais with its skeletal steel riveted backbone supporting wide sheets of glass roof was astounding and held within another treasure: a totally modern exhibition of Bulgari’s finest pieces in a futuristic black granite-like setting all nestled beneath the art deco styled, restored sweeping ceiling and roof. No New Year’s Eve in Paris is complete without watching the Eiffel tower unload its battery of fireworks and although the girls only just made it due to a mega crowded metro, the tradition was worth it. Metro was so chock full after midnight that they decided to walk home and 9 kilometres and a touch of hypothermia later, set them up to ride the funiculaire up to Sacré Cœur the following day instead of attempting the steps!

The sour note of the trip was delivered when Cassy’s wallet was stolen from her bag in the breakfast room of their Paris hotel. Within an hour, and just before she discovered the theft, the light fingered criminal had run up a sizeable chunk of debt against all our operational cards. We are now in the middle of a drawn out process to see if we can regain some of the stolen funds.

That hiccup aside, and with due deference to my lack of clarity on all the details (I’m certain Madame would have conveyed a far more concise and vivid picture for you!), I can categorically state that both parties had an “impressionnant’   trip. So good in fact that I fear that it may be reprised yet again in the not so distant future………….(sorry Chris!) The slide show will be housed here when it disappears above.

I finally just decided to record Cassy's ad from the TV, so it's a very rough copy. The camera decided to adjust and re-adjust for various light bursts, but you can get a vague idea of what it is all about. If we ever hear about a better version, I'll get that up here straight away.

The reason I was particularly motivated to post it up this week was because I was reminded again last night that it is on high rotation. We made a late decision to cruise over the Dazhi and the Miramar cinema and big department store complex. It was kind of cold and dreary, so we decided to be all civilized, ditch the rattling scooter and take the car. I had ordered the tickets online, which was a good thing as the cinema ended up being quite packed when we eventually got in. For our edification as we lined up to purchase tickets, some fancy underwear model was extolling the virtues of her latest range, to the great concentration of a large number of male voyeurs! Eventually up to the cinema and settled in seats, the stragglers came in just as the shorts started up. After a few, they started playing a couple of ads, and Cassy's ad came on: it was quite strange sitting in the dark and watching my cinema partner on the huge screen in front of us....good fun!

Afterwards, we ate at the remarkably cheap Sazeriaya (sic?). Somehow, although ordering every option available and the dearest main courses, we thought they’d made a mistake when we were presented with a bill for the princely sum of about $15…weird! We wandered around for a while, Cassy keen to source some slim fitting black jeans to go under the new red “cowboy” boots she just bought in France. No such luck, but I got some instead! It was great to wander around this complex on a Saturday night: there doesn’t seem to be much hint of an economic downturn here: the malls and shops are bustling and overflowing and the slightly colder temperatures has everyone swathed in scarves and jackets looking a little like their European cousins at this time of year (Cass says, “not so much….”!)

Cas joined me and the boys for a beer down at Uli’s on Friday night before that as we all debriefed our trips. Cass spoke of the new wonders she saw in Nantes and Bordeaux,Gurecki had some great adventures in Japan, Wal in Thailand, Dave M in Thai outlying islands and of course, I filled them in on my trip to India. We had a lot to talk about….

Today, we tried again to get the elusive black jeans so went over to Takashimaya. After what seemed to be an excessive amount of trying on of different styles and fabrics, after a very long time, said pants were purchased! Wait for 30 minutes so they could be taken up? Sure we could. Down to B1 to get a few supplies from Jason’s supermarket, have some late lunch from the Wendel’s outlet and back up to collect. The walk to and from was pleasant in the cooling afternoon, the light fading early and a wind just picking at Cassy’s unruly long locks (!). She’d meant to get a haircut, but Bessie was out for the day.

Cassy seems to have slowly recovered from her week long bout of jet lag, so finally got a good night’s sleep last night. We’re reading some good stuff at the moment. I’ve just started the iconic Michael Connelly’s latest Bosch/Haller novel, The Reversal, while Cass is just starting Lionel Shriver’s latest, So Much For That. India slide show can be seen at Taipei Life on Slide (link above right) and all the short videos from India can be seen at Taipei Life on Youtube (link also above right)

Christmas and New Year was always going to be different this year. Although we have had a penchant for travelling in our shortish break over the festive season, this year cass reprised her trip of some year’s ago to France with her Mum, and I decided to intrepidly step out on my own, not done since visiting Japan 25 years ago! So off to India I stepped with some trepidation, with a guide book in pocket, “Delhi Belly” drugs in my bag and a wealth of “gold” from my Indiaphile colleagues in my head.

Picked up by my driver at Indira Ghandi airport, the trip back in the cold, misty early morning was the first of many eye opening sights. The 100s of bundles of rags lining every footpath were not dumped rubbish, but people. A twitching dark foot poking beneath one such pile was my dawning of realization. I had a trip planned to Agra on Wednesday morning, but I crashed into a late bed with swirling thoughts of my itinerary for the days to come and what other things I must be prepared to confront.

Hotel (5 stars) was an unusual luxury, as we prefer to stay in mid-range accommodation normally, but it was relatively cheap and a great central location in Delhi. After (a very satisfying and great choice) breakfast, I saddled up for the first of many day trips. Armed with guide book, metro map, camera etc. I walked out of the hotel to walk the few blocks to Connaught circle and the junction of two metro lines. Within 30 seconds I was “attacked” by the first of many beggars. Ignoring the little urchins’ advances, I couldn’t believe that a major city could be this dirty. Human excrement and the cloying smell of urine was intense, the walls of the adjoining buildings stacked with before said rag piles, wafts of rank body odour mixing with the other scents to make a very unpleasant perfume.

On way to Connaught, I visited the craft centre and the tribal shop at a local government emporium. These emporiums are recommended as, although slightly pricier, they are certified and have genuine products. My shoes were already filthy: no wonder the shoe shine boys are legion in this city! Dogs were either asleep or dead all over the footpath and semi clad old men were sitting in steaming piles of their meager belongings. I arrived at Connaught to be confronted with yet more people seeing my fresh white foreign face as fodder for a good scam I suspect! I escaped into the cavernous Pallika market where I was hand held and praised for all sorts of strange reasons, just to get me to stop and look at various wares. Pashminas, silk, leather, shoes, flash drives, you name it, they had it. I escaped with buying a sheepskin wallet (a strange portent of things to come!) and a pair of “Ray Bans” each for $5. One particularly furtive gent told me I looked like Pierce Brosnan: when I asked him if he was blind, he cracked up! I was starting to get into the swing of things. The initial shock was already turning to a genuine warm feeling for these people with so little, but genuinely friendly and delightful outlooks.

Metro was another major shock. After purchasing a smart card and loading it up with rupees for a week’s travel, I was naively expecting a similar experience to the whisper efficient and squeaky clean Taipei equivalent. Apart from getting patted down by an armed soldier and putting my bag through a scanner (which, by the way, happened everywhere where any large number of people congregated: which is everywhere!) I was literally crushed into a train carriage and dared let out a breath for the duration of the journey. The guy behind me was breathing in my ear and I was uncomfortably crutch to butt with the guy in front! Women actually have their own dedicated carriage which I imagine is a good thing: if they were in this situation, I hate to think what would happen. Spat out and straight to auto-rickshaw for trip to India Gate. The crazy thing was with these guys was that no matter how short or long the trip might be, they always had the meter off and quoted 100 rupees! I got savvy after a while and bargained, but I soon gave this up as well…I didn’t really care about saving one dollar! India gate, the war memorial was impressively tall and golden sandstone solid. The new camera seemed to be getting some good shots, so I spent a while trying to frame up the photos well. As it turned out, the photos worked out really well, I reckon: check them here. Got lost for the first time of many, which is very unlike me: did the old boy scout trick of navigating by the sun and soon emerged froma labyrinth of crooked laneways to find a main road. Back to hotel and ate the BEST Indian food I have ever eaten: when in Rome!

Off to Old Delhi. Now it was getting really confronting and I’m glad I didn’t try this on my first day. I self-guided my way through the impressive Red Fort and wandered down the claustrophobic jewelers street of Dariba Kalan. With a vague notion of sourcing an Indian trinket for my blushing bride, I soon realized that these designs were just not her style. Despite the best efforts of polite and crisply tailored touts, I resisted each approach. I climbed the parapet of India’s largest mosque in my bare feet and hoped that my shoes would still be there on my return. Steep steps and my quads were burning: better give those 1000 steps another whirl when I get home! Great views of the city blanketed in smog and stretching as far as the eye could see in all directions. Down the even skinnier Kinari Bazaar, selling garish trinkets and rainbow coloured accessories for saris. The overhead wiring had to be seen to be believed! Disgorged into a busier thoroughfare, I was starting to wonder why I had not seen another foreigner: perhaps I was really off the tourist trail. A sea of coffee, brown and darker faces packed the streets and the constant tooting of horns and Hindi cries of welcome from shop fronts made for quite a surreal scene: I was really in a different part of the world! This was a long 8 hour day: bit exhausted by the time I got back.

Dmitry Medvedev, the Russian president was to prove my nemisis today! My train to Agra was early morning and the train station was yet another wild scene. The booking office had a breeze of vague heat drifting from a tiny bar heater on the wall so subsequently the floor was full of sleeping hordes. From the look, they lived here semi-permanently. The train ride was great and despite conflicting voices in my head I decided to attempt the train food. Even this was delicious. Mutter Paneer, nan and rice with raita. So far the belly has not complained!

Driver Mukesh was there to greet me after a 2 hour zip through the northern India hinterland. Straight to the Taj Mahal for us. Thwarted at the security gate with my tiny tripod (not allowed) by the time I deposited it in a locker and came back, the whole palce was in lockdown Dmitry Medvedev and entourage were on site, so no one was allowed in. I wandered back up the road to meet Mukesh and we decided to go to the east bank of the Yamuna River to view the Taj. The searing sunlight was not ideal for photos, but that first hazy vision was pretty special. On to the Agra Fort,  a larger and even more impressive cousin to Delhi’s Red Fort. I ran into an Indian kid who used to study at TAS, now repatriated back to Delhi! Then to the cute jewel boxed “mini Taj” of Itimad-ud-Daulah’s tomb. It sparkled in the morning light and Aussie boy Peter obliged in taking my photo. A white marble masterpiece, it would probably be a main attraction if only “big sister” had not been built a few miles away. Lunch at a Mukesh selected restaurant and I opted for the non-curry chicken Tikka…again, sensational, could have ordered another but didn’t want to look like a foreigner piggy! That Medvedev made sure we were stuck in an hour long traffic jam, so I was especially hungry.

Well, I’m not too proud to admit that tears welled up in my eyes when I first saw the Taj Mahal: no picture and no words can do this almighty edifice justice. Crystalline glowing white marble of almost unbelievable size, the perfect symmetry of the buildings, the reflecting ponds and the fact that it took 20,000 workers 22 years to build in 1653, all beggar belief. I was more stunned by this sight than I have ever been before. I wandered the grounds for hours, not taking my eyes from the stunning sights for too long. As the sun dipped and waned, the building transformed from a blinding white to a soft melting butter yellow, before metamorphosing yet again into an off gray sheen as dusk approached. A truly memorable experience, worth the trip all by itself. I ate a third (!) Indian meal for the day on the train trip back, back really late.

Wow, this is quite a tome! As usual I have waffled on with no real purpose, so I’ll try to summarise the next few days a little more succinctly. The Lotus temple in the far northern outskirts was only reached after I caught the wrong train the other way. I decided to ride it out for 20 minutes or so, as it went above ground and gave some great sights. Eventually there, this modern structure was quite the impressive architectural piece. I spent the recommended minimum of 25 minutes inside contemplating my thoughts about higher beings in complete silence: it made a pleasant change fro the chaos on the streets, at least! Went to the “upmarket” khan market after that, and it was bit disappointing because the prices were higher, but the gear was the same you could get at any mall in the world.

The south east quarter was next on my list and a bright and early start saw me sauntering through the spacious and well kept gardens of Huayuan’s tomb and surrounds. It was indeed spectacular, but I couldn’t help thinking I should have made my trip to the Taj later in the week: what can compare? I then ventured across th road and down some maze like alleys to the Nizamuddin complex. Here again, an authentic, no foreigner experience. I was mobbed by tiny dirt spattered waifs in rags and by this time I had worked out a method of giving without getting mobbed once more. I tipped all the really persistent, with the undertaking that they would be quiet and go away. A finger to the lips and a wave away secured the deal each time: peace! I de-shoed and strapped an extravagant hanky across my head to enter the mosque here: at least I could go in…no women allowed inside!  Purana Qila is a crumbling set of walls and temples in extravagantly spacious gardens. I wandered and studied and photographed until a young group of college kids invited me to play soccer with them. Half an hour and a pocketful of emails later, I had won a lot of new mates. Sweated up from the game, I decided to risk some fresh fruit juices from a nearby hawker….that was a mistake I think as the rumbling growls from my guts started very shortly after! A further rather long walk and I found my way to the craft market. This was a fascinating place and I ended up buying a few trinkets here. The puppet show was a real highlight, and the guy was a super salesman. Testament to that are my King and Queen puppets that I bought: who knows what we’ll do with them!

I was warned by lots of rickshaw drivers that the metro was closed on Christmas day, but I thought that sounded weird. Sure enough, the lines were open and running at their usual bursting at the seams capacity! I was off to the INA market, an Indian only shopping paradise for food and clothes etc. The wet market out the back was shocking. I snuck through to the courtyard and was paid back for my impudence by witnessing the slaughter of various fowls! Similar birds calmly awaited exactly the same fate perched on open cages below their freshly butchered cousins: I wanted to tell them to make a run for it! I helped a dazed looking Korean girl being besieged by some “helpful” locals and figured out we were going back to the same station. She said she was going to a famous milkshake shop mentioned in her guide book. I braved this as well and it was delicious. She was off to organize a taxi to the airport: she was a brave girl: 3 weeks travelling in India with very limited English…we spoke Japanese!

Back to the hotel and I decided that Christmas day deserved something completely different so I decided to go off to a Bollywood picture at Select City mall in the far south west. The quoted 30 minute taxi drive sounded OK till we were caught in a deadlock for two hours! Missed the show, so wandered around for ages getting an insight into how the IT new rich crowd gets their kicks in Delhi: it’s a world apart from the poverty on the street. For some reason, few foreigners must venture here either. I think I’m in about a 100 mobile phone galleries…I should have been charging a fee.

On my last day, I went back to Purana Qila then wandered through the vast Delhi International Book Fair, which had started that day. I’ve never seen so many books in one place: in fact it was so huge, that I only visited one of three exhibition halls: that was enough! Taxi at 9.30 pm to the airport and then began what was to be a 26 hour trip home! Fog had blanketed the runways and we were delayed by 8 hours. Cathay pacific plumped for a hotel, but by the time All the stranded passengers had made it back through customs, got to the hotel and then lined up for a further hour and a half for a room, it was hardly worth going to sleep. I opted instead to watch the unfolding carnage in the Ashes for an hour before my wakeup call! Hong Kong to Taipei flight was held on the tarmac for two hours as they couldn’t close the cargo door and wouldn’t let us off.

India was wild and confronting: I doubt whether I’ll view a lot of things the same way again. From searing highs of grand buildings and friendly people to depressing lows when seeing what a third world living standard really is like, this was a thought provoking trip. I’m hoping that Cass will provide details of her trip soon on here: she’s back on Monday.