Glenorchy and Ziplining in Queenstown

Friday was our last full day in Queenstown. There’s still a few things I would like to have done (such as take a trip to Stewart Island to look for kiwi) but there are only so many hours in the day. While Glen was at the conference in the morning, I took a drive to Glenorchy, a town 40 minutes away from Queenstown.

A few people had recommended the drive there and it didn’t disappoint. I travelled along winding roads that hugged the coastline with glimpses of the lake and the mountains offered up as I zoomed along at 100 kmh. I got stuck behind a four-car convoy for part of it, all doing 80, but eventually managed to get around them and zoom along. I made good time.

I’m sure there are plenty of people who think I should have taken the drive slow but where’s the fun in that? Going around sharp corners at speed was much more enjoyable.

There’s not much in Glenorchy but I did stop and take some photos from the jetty and the bank before getting back into the car and going back into Queenstown. Forty minutes later I was back in town, content with my speed sightseeing, and sitting have a tea and poached eggs at a cafe on the shores of the lake.

I picked Glen up from the conference venue around midday and we caught the gondola up the hill for our ziplining appointment.

Ziplining Down the Mountain

There are plenty of adventure sports that you can do in Queenstown, including skydiving, bungy jumping, paragliding, mountain bike riding and a whole lot more. As we went past the bungy platform on the gondola, my stomach started feeling queasy. Definitely not giving that a go if I can’t even look at the platform without feeling ill.

Instead we booked in for a ziplining experience that took us down the mountain on six ziplines over three hours (including a 20-minute walk between the last two ziplines). there were ten of us in the group with two lots of three-person families (a dad and two daughters), us and a man and a woman (one from the US, one from Auckland) who pull together conferences for companies.

We were given our harnesses and, despite having gone to the washroom about three times before the tour began, as soon as the harnesses were on we were both busting to go (TMI I know). Still we engaged our kegels and soldiered on. We are not yet incontinent.

Unlike the ziplining I did in Newfoundland, this one doesn’t involve any braking on our behalf; it’s all handled by the guides. So really we’re just locked onto the line and off we go, stopping safely at the other end and drawn into the platform. This meant we were free to do what we wanted on the line, including going upside down.

This turned out to be my favourite thing to do on five of the lines (we didn’t learn how to do it until the second). Travelling along at speed upside down as the mountain goes whizzing by is a bizarre but fun experience. We felt fairly safe so the whole ziplining experience was pretty chill, even the last line which is advertised as the world’s steepest.

We ended up at the bottom of the mountain, took off our harnesses and went on our way. I was starving by this point so we went for an early dinner at Botswana Butchery, luckily getting a table because we’re nannas and eat early. At 6 pm it started to get busy and there were no seats available without a reservation. We ate well then went home for a bit of a rest before our stargazing experience.

Upside-down! #Queenstown #newzealand #gaytravel #ziplining

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Unfortunately the air conditioning at our accommodation broke down a day or two before so the shipping container house was absolutely freezing. It prepared us for the stargazing tour which was starting at 8:45 pm.

We went back to the gondola, caught it up to the top, only to be told that the tour might be cancelled because the clouds had rolled in. The day was looking so promising too with a fairly clear sky but alas, the weather had other plans.

We waited around for a little while but at 8:30 it was clear nothing would proceed. We were fortunate to get a refund (we couldn’t rebook as we were leaving the next day) and went home. Glen was not-so-secretly pleased as he didn’t fancy standing outside for a couple of hours in the cold. Instead we went home and watched Getting On on Netflix and went to bed at 11.

Doubtful Sound

A couple of people had recommended Doubtful Sound to me, preferring it over Milford Sound, so I booked a day-long coach and cruise tour. This meant getting out of bed at 5:30 am, a horrible time of the morning at any time but after crappy sleep for nearly a week, it’s a bit of a shock. Glen dropped me off at the bus pick-up point at 6:15 and the coach came by soon after.

Much like when we did tours in Iceland that started during the darkness, the next two hours were just driving so I fell asleep at some point for a little while. When I did look out the window it was to see farmland, mountains, low-hanging clouds and rain. Beautiful.

The coach dropped me and another couple at Te Anau, before another bus picked us up and took us with others to Manapouri. From there we caught a ferry across the lake, and then onto another bus to go through Wilmot Pass. The drive took another hour, stopping at a few places along the way to get some snaps at suitable vistas. At the end of the drive we then boarded another boat, which took us into Doubtful Sound.

The three-hour cruise took us through the sound out to the Tasman Sea. The whole thing reminds me of a similar experience we had in Newfoundland – stunning expanse of water, tree and moss covered hills surrounding us, little tree-lined islands and waterfalls dotted here and there. Standing at the front of the boat, feeling the wind blowing in your face as you go past a majestic landscape…I couldn’t help but wish I’d brought my beanie.

We didn’t see many birds on the trip, really only spying a few seabirds when we got to the ocean, but we did, however, see about 20 fur seals. They’re so cute! No wonder sharks like to eat them. They were chilling out on one of the rocky islands. They’re so small! We watched them for a while and then headed back into the sound. We also were on the lookout for dolphins but alas, none were sighted.

We then repeated the backward journey, going by coach over the Wilmot Pass (no stops this time) to the return ferry across the water to Manapouri and then back on the same coach from the beginning back to Queenstown. (We passed a coach that had taken the corner too fast and slipped off the road. Luckily that wasn’t us.)

I got dropped off at 7:30 pm and Glen was there to meet me. We then went for dinner with a couple of the radiologists. Much food and drink and chats were had.

Queenstown and Arrowtown

We flew from Auckland to Queenstown at midday on Tuesday, taking what must be one of the most beautiful flights in the world. We passed over the fiordlands as we came down to land; instantly the place reminded me of a combination of Newfoundland and Banff. Honestly, if the flight hadn’t been so sure, I’d have thought we’d detoured to Canada.

After landing, we collected our car (a green one this time but not a mini) and drove to our AirBnB: a converted shipping container perched on top of a hill with an enviable view of the mountains and the lake. Could we just stay here forever?

We’d bought some food at the shops in town on our way through so we had lunch, chilled out a bit and then, before we really knew it, it was an acceptable time to go for dinner. We headed back into town to a fish and chip van situated near the fancy restaurants and the lake.

We bumped into a couple of radiologists from back home and then sat watching the sky get dark and warded off three very determined ducks who were after our fish and chips. They didn’t succeed. After dinner we scurried home to our box and read our books.


Wednesday was the start of the conference and Glen dutifully went off to attend a workshop. Meanwhile I went exploring and decided I’d do the good thing and go for a short hike. I went to Arrowtown, an old gold mining settlement that has been turned into a quaint tourist attraction. It’s also a good spot to go for some walks.

I picked the Sawpit Gully walk, a 2–3 hour walk up hills, through forests and along rivers and a pipeline. I figured that I’d be at the shorter end of the timescale but after setting off and stopping for a rest pretty soon in, I worried I’d be pushing the three hours. Not to mention my knee (the one that fractured) was feeling tender. Nevertheless, I persevered.

I was rewarded with wild strawberries (very much at the end of the season) and wild blackberries. Glen hates it when I eat random berries growing in the wild but a) these weren’t random and b) he wasn’t there. It’s not like I ate anything else.

A couple of birds showed interested in me at one point so perhaps I was near their nest, and then one of them followed me for a little way and came quite close. They certainly didn’t seem afraid of my presence.

In addition to the berries and the birds, there were also lots of funky fungi (which I definitely did not eat), which reminded me a lot of the national park we went to in Quebec, La Mauricie, and all its fungi.

I ascended the hill and then marched across highlands and descended into valleys with little rivers. For much of the first hour of my trip I was alone except for one woman who came jogging up behind me and then disappeared. Jogging! While there I was dying! The isolation was wonderful but I could also understand how people get agoraphobic. The hills were open and expansive and I felt very exposed, but I still enjoyed myself.

It wasn’t until the descent that I started seeing people who’d taken the track counter-clockwise. I think they would have the harder route. Time marched along with me until eventually I came to the start of the track again (there were moments I was afraid I’d taken the wrong turn and would have to endure even more exercise and fresh air). I was pleased to find that despite the stops I’d taken along the way, the walk took me exactly two hours.

Once back at the beginning I walked into the Arrowtown settlement and had a look around. I didn’t find anywhere I wanted to stop for lunch so thought I’d try one of the wineries I’d passed on the way in. Unfortunately, the sat-nav took me another way and I bypassed them completely. I had to settle for chicken salad when I got home, which was probably for the best.

Onsen Hot Pools

Despite having a whole afternoon free to go explore more of what Queenstown had to offer, I was perfectly content to stare out the glass door of our accommodation for a while and then get some work done.

I sat outside on the balcony to begin with but soon my fingers froze so I retreated inside to the warmth. I managed to edit another chapter of my book and get a few other things done before it was time to pick Glen up at 5:30.

Later that evening we went to Onsen Hot Pools, a destination recommended to us by the woman at the Air New Zealand check-in at Auckland Airport. We booked a late-night lantern-lit hour-long experience, starting at 9 pm. The water was hot and the jets were of reasonable strength which was perfect for my sore legs. (I’m really not a cardio kind of guy.)

Less perfect was the argument we had about ten minutes into our time there. Still, the open air with its frosty breeze and the warm water were pleasant, if not exactly romantic. Unfortunately, it was also a cloudy night so we couldn’t see the stars or the moon. Oh well, we’re still lucky.

Looking for Hobbits and Dolphins

Glen decided to attend a conference in Queenstown so we tacked on a few days beforehand to spend in and around Auckland. (Of course, there was no way I was going to be left behind.) We left Perth at 6:15 pm on Friday and flew direct to Auckland. Ordinarily getting to New Zealand involves a stopover somewhere on the east coast so to fly direct was great. Not so great was arriving at 5:30 am having had next to no sleep on the flight.

After getting to the accommodation sometime around 7, we slept most of the morning away. We roused ourselves at lunchtime, walked into the city and found some brunch type food. Our stomachs were unsure whether to have breakfast or lunch. Lucky it was a Saturday when brunch is a thing.

We were unprepared for how warm Auckland was. I brought shorts with me but Glen didn’t so after a bit of walking and a bit more complaining we stopped in and bought new shorts. Yes, I bought some too…and damn, are they comfortable.

Worn out from shopping and walking, we returned to the accommodation, took an afternoon nap, then got up for an early dinner at a Japanese restaurant called Masu. Friends had recommended it so we gave it a shot, taking a seat at the bar because there were no free tables until 9pm. Food was delicious and the cocktails were nice too.

We contemplated going to do something with our evening and would have gone to one of the events at the observatory but tickets had sold out. We went home and vegetated on the couch, our body clocks completely out of whack. Sleeping was very difficult that night.


The main reason we stopped in Auckland was to go to Hobbiton. Glen had learned they do an evening banquet so was keen to try out this bit of kitsch. We checked out at 9 am on Saturday then collected our hire car. I’d booked just an ordinary white Toyota sedan but Europcar had done a very clever bit of marketing.

Out the front of the store, they’d parked three Mini CooperS. Glen’s always wanted one so we paid the extra charge and drove off in a light blue one with a Union Jack painted on the top. Having now driven one, I don’t have any burning desire to get one; same for Glen. It’s large enough on the inside and zippy but I didn’t love it.

I drove us down to Matamata, stopping for lunch along the way. We also stopped at a kiwi fruit orchard and went on a tour. The tour was advertised yet the people supposedly running the tour didn’t really know what to say. We managed to get some good information out of him and we found it interesting. Turns out kiwi fruit is quite profitable too.

We were early for our check-in at a farm stay, so we went to Blue Springs, which was just past Matamata. The water looked amazing and had these long underwater grasses growing in them. They were really beautiful. We even saw a bit of bright blue water. Unfortunately, we couldn’t swim in it; the springs provide about 70% of New Zealand’s bottled spring water.

We drove back to our accommodation, which was pretty much a B&B on a working farm. We dumped our bags then drove to the Hobbiton Movie Set. After collecting our tickets, we got on the bus and entered Hobbiton.

I’ve seen the Lord of the Rings movies once and I’ve never seen the three Hobbit movies. Despite this, I’d probably seen more of the movies than most of the other people on the tour. There was, of course, one group of five friends who were diehard fans. I think the tour was more targeted at them (the minority) than really at the majority (the biggest market share).

We followed our guide through various bits of the set, which, when recreated for the Hobbit movies, was made permanent as opposite to the ply and styrofoam version for the first movies. It was cute, we posed for photos at small doors as we pretended to be hobbits. We took our photos and then reached the Green Dragon where we had our banquet.

The tables were laden with food, offering a selection of duck, salmon, chicken and beef with sides of various vegetables. Dessert was less extravagant but nevertheless full of ample choice. The food was excellent – which was a big relief. We were a little worried we’d be served something substandard a la Disneyland. Not so much to our full and expanded bellies’ horror.

After dinner, we gathered together, picked up a lantern and set off to take a walk back through parts of the set lit at night to the coach. Many of us, including the heavily jet-lagged American family with small children who’d flown in that morning, thought we were just going to be taken straight back. Instead, we stopped in the field to hear about the party scene from the third movie and then take a ‘memory selfie’.

Cute ideas but after what had been about four and a half hours already, the tolerance level in the group had largely vanished. Glen and I couldn’t wait to get on the bus, and would have been completely satisfied if we’d just been taken straight back to the bus. We did get a nice photo at the end though.

We reached the coach just in time as the heavens opened once we were on and didn’t let up until we got home again.


After breakfast on Sunday morning, we returned to Auckland to go on a 4.5-hour boat cruise in the bay to look for whales and dolphins. I was worried how Glen was going to go on such a trip as he often gets sea sick but he managed. He might even have enjoyed himself.

I was the first person to spot dolphins, seeing four off to our right. I alerted the cruise operators and then we spun around to go meet them. They soon came up to the boat and everyone was very excited about seeing our first dolphins. We then continued on, spurred on by promises of seeing larger pods of dolphins further out.

We saw two or three other large groups throughout our tour, as well as the fin of a shark near one of the groups. There were young dolphins too, sticking close to the mothers. The dolphins took advantage of the forces created by the boat at the front and the back, regularly leaping out of the water and zooming along with us. We saw flocks of seabirds and dolphins going to town on schools of fish. Watching gannets dive-bomb into the water was spectacular.

Unfortunately, we didn’t see any whales, but at least we saw plenty of Common Dolphins. The weather held out until we got back into the harbour and we’d spent a good amount of time lying at the front of the boat and soaking up the sunshine.

Once back on land, we drove to our next accommodation. I’d given Glen the address to plug into the sat-nav and that took us to somewhere in central Auckland. The owner of the AirBnB was meant to be back at six so we weren’t too concerned that no one answered the door when we arrived at 5:30. Instead, we went for a walk to find a toilet and maybe some food before wandering back at about 6 and sitting on the porch to wait.

We were there about ten minutes before Glen wondered, aloud, whether we were at the right address, which was probably code for ‘I’ve put the wrong address into the sat-nav.’ He hurried back to the car and sure enough had put in Seafield Rd instead of Seaview Rd. In his defence, the sat-nav wasn’t all that user-friendly but still… Poor Glen won’t be able to live this one down for a while.

We eventually found the right place, the owner leaving as we arrived. The accommodation was lovely, a beautifully decked out room above the garage with newly decorated bedroom and bathroom. Very cozy. We went for dinner at Woodpecker Hill (I think that’s what it’s called) and then came home to get some sleep. Our sleeping patterns were still out of whack. In the morning we were leaving for Queenstown.


The Long Road to Mumbai

Another early start to catch a taxi to the airport at 6:30am. The taxi driver was a maniac, zooming through intersections and honking his horn. We all feared for our lives but, thankfully, arrived in one place. Even if a little shaken.

To get into the airport we needed to show a ticket and our passports. We had our passports but not the tickets. Luckily I was able to show something that showed we had a booking, but the blank looks from the person I showed it to suggested she didn’t really understand it but let us through anyway.

Check-in was slow but we got through without much trouble, and then through security where bag tags were put on our hand luggage and then stamped to show they’d been screened.

We then sat and waited for our flight. And waited. And waited. It was over an hour delayed. I started reading a new book, The Loney. When the bus arrived to take us to the plane, we then showed our boarding passes and baggage tags to security…although there wasn’t one on my small bag.

I then had to be taken back to the x-ray machine…only to find that it had already been screened. I got rolled eyes and ‘geez-you’re-dumb’ looks from the people involved. We boarded the plane. The flight took about two hours and then we landed in Mumbai.

We walked to our hotel which was opposite the airport. We arrived at 12 and checked-in, which took a while, and then were told we’d be notified when our room was ready as check-in is usually at 2. We sat. And we waited.

At 1 we checked if the rooms were available. No, they weren’t.

We waited again.

At 2, I checked if it was ready. No, they had high occupancy and the rooms weren’t ready yet.

We waited again. And then went for lunch instead.

I came back up about an hour later. Rooms still not ready. They’d be ready in 15 minutes.

They weren’t.

Then they’d be ready in five minutes and they’d notify us.

They didn’t.

But eventually we were given rooms.

Although Christine couldn’t get into hers. Twice. No, I think three times.

No apologies. No attempt to sort this out quickly. They were useless. It was not a good start to getting in the hotel.

Then there were problems with the rooms so overall we weren’t impressed with the start of our stay. However, what was good was the buffet. Some delicious food.

I went to the gym, which is in the open air of the hotel, which is humid and not air-conditioned. I sweated, which is unusual for me. I felt better for having gone though (once I was sure I wasn’t going to pass out). I think I’ve put on weight during this holiday. Not good.

In the evening we went downstairs for dinner at a Lebanese/Moroccan restaurant, which was nice, and enjoyed the ambience. Not a bad way to end a bit of a trying day.

Two more days to go before going back to India.


Tigers of Ranthambore

I’m always amazed when I think that we saw polar bears and beluga whales in Churchill. Our luck at seeing ‘big’ natural things doesn’t always come through. We tried many MANY times to see moose in Canada, all to no avail. We tried to see the Northern Lights in Iceland three times, again with no success. And we’ve even tried to get a good look at the Grand Canyon, only to be disappointed the first time because of snow whiting it out, and the second because of a broken knee. Because of this – and the fact that we were trying to see tigers which are especially reclusive and rare – we didn’t set our hopes high when we went to Ranthambore.

The six-seater jeep picked us up just after 6am. A man from Bangalore was already in the car with us, and we then picked up a German couple who had booked three seats because of all their camera equipment. The guy from Bangalore also had impressive lenses. I had camera envy with my much smaller lens. Glen had an iPhone.

We were given Zone 1 to explore for a few hours, getting into the park just as the sun came up. We were soon rewarded with the sight of sambar deer to our right, and then two hare on our left, before seeing a group of spotted deer. So far, so good.

No tigers though. As we drove on and saw more deer, we passed another jeep who told us about a tiger footprint they’d seen. We soon found it too, making out a vague shape of a footprint. I suddenly felt electrified seeing it, certain our luck would come in and we’d see one. Especially hearing that the zone had a female with three cubs in it. We continued on.

I shouldn’t have got my hopes up though, and considering the man from Bangalore had been out five times previously and not seen anything, I kept reining in my expectations. This was the first time for the Germans, but they had another five trips to Ranthambore planned with a total of 21 tiger safaris booked across India. They REALLY wanted to see a tiger.

I had to keep reminding myself that while it would be so awesome to see one in the wild, I have been up-close and personal with tigers (including cubs) on a number of occasions when I worked at the zoo. Still…in the wild…

Anyway, we saw plenty of deer, stopped by a waterway and watched for birds, seeing osprey, cormorants, parakeets, two types of kingfisher (the sacred kind and the stork-billed kind, a rarity that got the others very excited), other types of birds and even a crocodile floating down the middle of the river. THAT was cool.

We also heard deer giving out their alarm call, a sound that echoed around the hills and made us all stop, hopeful of seeing, if not a tiger, then perhaps a leopard. Hyena and sloth bear also live in the forest.

We saw none of them.

Considering the large number of deer we saw everywhere, we were hoping that they’d be enough to entice some predator out, but alas, no. Glen even got out to go pee at one stage behind a tree, but nothing attacked him either. Disappointing.

After a few hours we returned to the main road, hearing from the guards that people in Zone 3 had seen a tiger that morning. Good for them.

On the way out we saw lots of black-faced langur sitting around, many with babies and young, so we all went gaga over them. It was a nice way to end the safari. While I’m disappointed we didn’t see one, I’m not surprised. Sixty tigers live in Ranthambore which is pretty big and the chances of seeing one are slim, as our friend from Bangalore understood very well. I hope the Germans have better luck, at least once out of their 21 planned visits.

Will we try again? I’m not so sure.

One thing that struck me about Ranthambore was how most of the town is built around the tigers and eco-tourism. There are many ‘wildlife’ or ‘eco’ resorts outside the national park so that provides a lot of employment for the locals, as do all the guides and drivers required for the tours themselves, which run twice a day. I’ve never seen a place so built around capitalising on people’s desire to see wildlife, in this case, tigers. When it comes to poaching, it’s easy to see that poaching serves the interest of only a few people while preserving them (hopefully) benefits a whole community. It’s making sure that people feel like they have enough that’s the tricky part.

We were dropped back at our hotel, had a quick breakfast, packed up and got in the waiting car for Mr Singh to take us back to Jaipur. I left one of my favourite t-shirts behind, somehow, discovering my stupidity only once we’d got back to Jaipur. Shame.

Three-and-a-half hours of driving later we arrived back into the madness of Jaipur afternoon traffic. We picked up our suits and shirts from the tailor. We look very sharp though my jacket feels a little tight under the arms. If I stand up straight and hold my shoulders back, it’s not so back, but I slouch. Maybe it’s time I learned not too. I do look pretty good in a fitted suit though. We were very tempted to order more but sanity prevailed.

In the evening, after we’d had a rest, we went for dinner at a nearby restaurant and bought a suitcase from the bazaar. We should have got a bigger one but oh well. I returned to the hotel, my headache still not gone and not feeling like being hassled to buy things, while Christine and Glen went and bought stuff. On to Mumbai in the morning.

Jaipur to Ranthambore

We had the morning to see more of Jaipur but when Mr Singh suggested going to the City Palace (again), none of us were too enthused. Instead he suggested getting a 90-minute ayurvedic massage. Christine and I were sold, and after a little more time, Glen agreed too.

The place itself was not much to write home about. Dark and dank rooms in a rundown building with the staff using their mobile phones at the reception. No soft relaxing music or scent of rose and jasmine here. It all felt a bit grimy.

We were given our options with all three of us choosing a 70-minute basic ayurvedic massage and then each added a different 20-minute experience. I went for a hot poultice back massage thing; Christine for a face beauty therapy thing; and Glen for a sinus clearing thing. We were then shown to our rooms.

Glen and I shared the same room, a curtain drawn down the middle. We were told to disrobe then a flimsy loin cloth was put on us. Definitely no use in being coy about being naked in front of clothed men here. At least it was dimly lit.

I then sat and had oil massaged into my scalp for about ten minutes, the experience invigorating for the head, while at the same time feeling like a roly-poly white lump sitting on the edge of the massage table. Perhaps needless to say, I didn’t exactly find the whole experience relaxing.

I then lay on my back while he massaged my legs, arms, torso and belly; then I turned over and he worked again on my legs and my back. Strangely, he missed my neck which really could have done with some attention.

I’m not much of a fan of massages unless they’re therapeutic and really going for a particular knot. The relaxation kind makes me uncomfortable and leaves me feeling oily, unsatisfied and uncomfortable. On the whole this was no different. There were times when I felt relaxed but there weren’t many.

The hot poultice thing was a bit strange as the poultices had to be the right temperature or else they’d burn my skin. They weren’t always cool enough so I hissed a few times. Mostly the hot pouches smelt like chapattis so they made me hungry.

At the end of the 90-minutes, I was towelled down and then I dressed, the residual oil making my clothes stick to my body. The knot in my shoulder that has aggravated me for weeks loosened a bit so that was a bonus. I was happy to get home and shower.

The Drive to Ranthambore

There weren’t many things I desperately wanted to see on this trip to India. In fact, there were only two must-dos: the Taj Mahal and an attempt to see tigers in the wild. I’d organised for Glen and I to go to Ranthambore Tiger Reserve, a three-to-four-hour drive from Jaipur. Christine chose to stay behind and go shopping.

Mr Singh picked us up at 12:30 and off we went along terrible roads into country Rajasthan. While I spent most of my time reading (the roads unfortunately too bumpy for me to do any work without getting car sick), I occasionally looked out the window at farms and hut villages.

Despite the obvious poverty and subsistence living that these people had, there was something soothing about these simple dwellings. They weren’t part of the hustle and bustle of the cities with their mountains of rubbish, constant honking of horns in chaotic traffic, or the buildings in various states of existence or destruction. Instead there were fields of greenery, cows and other livestock, thatched roofs and mud huts that, even though I’d struggle to live in, had something wholly satisfying about them.

We zoomed past them and arrived in the town of Ranthambore, driving through it to our hotel. Mr Singh dropped us off and we checked in, seeing a few black-faced langurs hanging about in the gardens.

The hotel was fine. Nothing too fancy, but it was green and spaced out. Very attentive staff, including the manager who wanted us to put in a TripAdvisor review the minute we arrived, and then asked again after dinner. I told him, politely, to back off.

We dumped our luggage, I finished off some work for a client, Glen wrote some reviews on TripAdvisor. A group of tourists arrived and the wifi disappeared. We eventually went to join the ‘cultural’ program which was a bit  of bad singing and tabla playing. I didn’t mind it so much as I was reading my book and enjoying being outside in the evening without the chaos we’d had over the past week. Glen, however, couldn’t stand it and went and hid in his room.

We had dinner, more overly attentive staff. Glen couldn’t eat much because of all the capsicum. I made do with what was there, and then we went and hid in our room until it was time for bed, both dreading and looking forward to our early morning safari to see the tigers of Ranthambore.