Jeannie’s got a theory about the Delhi-Agra-Jaipur ‘Golden Triangle’.  She thinks it’s called ‘golden’ due to the sweet stench of fermenting piss.  I thought she was been cynical, now I’m inclined to agree.

I had reasonable expectations of the Pink City – charming, narrow, pretty backstreets and bazaars set amongst the hustle, bustle and chaos of a busy city.  We got the chaos, and not much else.

Perhaps this is a disservice – Jaipur had a few redeeming features – like the Jantar Mantar – one of the oldest observatories in the world, and the ‘monkey temple’, set deep in a valley away from the city.  Saying that, even the Sadus here are on the make – one in the monkey temple tried to screw us for a RS100 donation (5 times the going rate) after spouting four words of pigeon english.  Is nothing sacred Ms India?