Our first glimpse of the city was from the high fortress walls of Nahargarh, a fairy floss sunset had the pink city living up to its name from the get go. As per usual, I had a big list of all the sites I wanted to see, the first being Hawal Mahal. Aptly named ‘The palace of the winds’, the only breeze to be found in the entire city drifted through the honeycomb walls of this place - a street stadium of sorts, designed for the ladies of the court. Pink, gold and cream were the only colours to be seen and all I could think about was the people watching, gossiping and bitchiness that would have went on behind the sea of tiny windows. Next up, was the incredible Jantar Mantar - a place that takes King hobbies to a whole new level. Clearly more interested in astronomy and astrology than war and politics, this was a love project like nothing I have seen. Beautiful sundials larger than houses, astrolabes still in working order, and metal rings to measure the altitude of celestial bodies. It looked like a modernist sculpture garden to me, a rare collection of Moore, Picasso and Rodin. Daniel surprised me at this point with energy to make it to the last of the big 3 - the City Palace, the royal residence built by Sawai Jai Singh II and still inhabited by his descendants. The buildings, grounds and gardens were beautiful - I've come to expect nothing less from these Mughals. Though, it was all a bit of a sweaty blur, the heat was reaching its peak at this stage, and my mind was thinking more about ice cream and less about ancient armour and block print textiles hand designed to fit 250kg princes.

Luckily, we discovered the most delicious kulfi. Apparently ‘the best in town’ Palfi Kulfi is easy to spot, a giant red sign impossible to miss. One of these cone shaped treats just wasn't enough, and it seemed important that we try as many flavours as the man could rattle off in one breath - saffron, pistachio, mango, vanilla and butterscotch. The heat felt sufficiently more bearable.

We wandered back through the street, and it was here that a man spotted us and approached - nothing unusual. Shampoo (real name Raj) had a desperation on his face - was it money driven, knowledge seeking or just a need for friendship. I wanted to believe in him and in the latter. Desperately, actually. But I could feel my brain building a giant trump sized wall, brick by brick - everyone always has their angle, and unfortunately, more often than not it involves reaching into our pockets. Tonight, Daniel was more accommodating. Accepting his offer, we swung around and down a side street to a place he knew for dinner. His restaurant of choice was a local haunt where he clearly got a commission and a free meal, but why should we care, it's cheaper than the tourist black holes we get caught in when left to our own devices, and, the food was tasty. Shampoo did most of the talking, I spent the time enjoying my kathi roll and speculating his motives. He whipped out a business card and we promised to give him a call, having settled on a rupee rate for an excursion to the Amber Fort. Feeling a little less defensive after food, we headed home via the icecream shop, chatting a little more as liquid nitrogen swished around us and Belgium chocolate stained our lips.

As promised, and with a delightful smile, he waved happily at the end of the driveway when he saw us the next morning. I hated myself for ever thinking anything negative about him. Dressed in plaid camel trousers, a fresh sky blue shirt and tan leather accessories, he was clearly excited for our excursion, even making a surprise stop at a flower stall for freshly strung flower necklaces, and pink roses for our hats and the dash of the tuk tuk. The scent of the blooms filled my nostrils, and continued to do so for the entire day.

Shampoo really did give us the royal treatment. He took us to places we would never have seen, waited patiently in the rain and shared stories about his life. He currently rents his tuk tuk, ‘...but i'm saving up the 120,000 rupees for my own’ he says as we approached the Amber Fort. We left him in the carpark and walked towards the hill fortress on a distant ridge through a manicured saffron garden, complete with lakes, ponds and sad elephants trudging up the pathway. We reached the top flustered, hot and wet and it was about now that we realised we didn't have enough cash to enter and the cashier wouldn't accept card. Great. Daniel volunteered to walk back to the bottom in search of an atm, while I tried to act invisible, succeeding too much perhaps when a rather large Indian lady sat on me because I was occupying her preferred spot. I was happy to see Daniel again, and humbled when I discovered that Shampoo had lent us money from a friend - the banks were all out of cash. I am so glad he did - the castle was worth the effort; tunnels to get lost in, palace walls of mirror and silver - it made me wonder why you'd ever want to abandon it and start anew in Jaipur….

Back in the tuk tuk, we whizzed around some factories, jenga stacking and purchasing Indian crystals from a guy named Yogi, block printing a small square of fabric and smelling authentic spices out of tiny jars. It was a jam packed afternoon and we were both quite weary on the final ride home. With a nonchalant head nod, Shampoo gestured towards his home, the ‘real india’. I glanced to my left and saw a semi-built up slum, people everywhere, scurrying through piles of rubbish and laneways. Shampoos flash outfit suddenly had me feeling a flush of sadness. This man has put so much effort into our day and into his appearance. He has so much pride in his country and us as his personal guests. His flower gesture and lack of hesitation to let us borrow money suddenly seemed all the more endearing. Would I have done the same? Does he ever build a prejudice wall? Does he think we are trying to rip him off? Do thoughts like these work both ways? Shampoo showed us unpresuming openness and love. India reminded me again that I have a lot to learn.

A developing interest in crystal and stone led me to a gem guru, who promised a therapy session complete with disease identification and energy healing. I didn't have to think twice, there is no better place in the world to give it a go. Dating a sceptic can come with some challenges in a place like India. Can't he just turn that logical brain off for one second to enjoy the romance and intrigue of an art as old as time? We sat in the lavish house of this stranger, while he quickly finished off a YouTube video - or a movie, it was hard to tell. It was ironic and amusing that Dr MS Chauhan immediately cursed my Indian pearls and praised Daniels tiger eye beads, ‘It's perfect for you, it brings you love’ he says with a sly smile. Daniels face beamed - pride, happiness or amusement, I can't be sure. Slightly ashamed, my pearl necklace stayed in a discarded pile in my lap. There was no need to fear, however. With stone cards, chakra charts, an amulet and a thick accent, I was shown the light of redemption; a concoction of botanic oils, brandy and water solutions, crystals, personal mantras and a diet adjustment should bring me back in check, ‘10% of the chocolate you are eating now’. Feeling enchanted and happy, we slid back into our trusty tuk tuk and sped through the carbon clogged streets.

On our last day in Jaipur, we wandered through the colonial galleries of the Albert Hall museum, a mishmash of Turkish red pottery, Indian miniatures, cast iron armour, Iranian painted tiles and the essential Egyptian mummy - to complete any stock standard British collection. And of course, to complete any Indian museum, the halls were dotted with sleeping guards, almost outnumbering culture enthusiasts. Oh, there was also a genius portable shrine. Perfect for worshipping on-the-run. The sky began to darken over, so we headed home, leaving 2 Jaipurians with the belief that they had met Ricky Ponting's nephew - cruel, I know.

The next morning, we hit the road again, this time, headed for Pushkar.