I HAD another overnight train to Delhi from Jodhpur recently, which passed without incident. I did, however, notice a group of three English lads already on the train as I boarded, who then disappeared for the rest of the journey. When I found them outside the station the next morning, they'd admitted they had upgraded to a better class of transport on the train: that being their first Indian train journey, it was a bit of an eye-opener.

We shared a couple of beers in Delhi before they got an onward flight to the Andaman Islands, and I envied them their imminent escape from the chaos of the city.

The following day, after having spent a cumulative total of 48hrs travelling in the first ten days of my trip, I had little inclination to do any sightseeing. Not to put too fine a point on it, I was f***ed. So I spent a very lazy day drinking bad coffee and reading an excellent book, determined to leave at the earliest opportunity. And so I'd thought; it would take a very good reason to keep me in Delhi another night. As things turned out, I found five very good reasons - in no particular order: Beth, Stan, Cassie, Camille, and Brian. Beth even convinced me, indirectly, to do some sightseeing, and we went to the Red Fort that evening.

Many hours (and beers) later, though, I had again resolved to get out of town as soon as possible. It was not to be. I made an arduous journey to an interstate bus station the next day, hoping to find a bus to the border with Nepal. Unfortunately, there was a strike in Delhi that day (I'd chatted to a Tibetan monk at one point - as you do - who said the strike was a protest against inflation). The bus station was deserted, barring a very forthright tout who tried his best to charge me treble the going rate for the journey. I resisted the immediate and shameful urge to slap him, and made a long trek back into town, dejected, to find another hotel for the night.

As my luck would have it, I bumped into Stan and Brian again, and Stan being quite an accomplished musician, had dragged his keyboard all the way to India. We made our way to the same bar we'd propped up the previous night. By this point I'd already found a bus to Kathmandu that left the following day, so my feeling of dread at being stuck in Delhi had lifted, and I was free to enjoy the evening.

In the end, my time in the capital ended on a high note, quite literally. The whole upstairs portion of the bar sang me a rousing "Happy Birthday", under Stan's direction, and I genuinely appreciated the gesture.

'Cheers for that, mate', I said, shaking his hand.

With characteristic good cheer he simply said, 'You're welcome, man. See you in Goa?'

Indeed, I thought. Just a few thousand kilometres to cover, in between..