At breakfast the following day, a very nice Australian woman appeared and asked us what we thought of the place. She was a seasoned Indian traveller but it was her boyfriends first time and she needed a hotel that would break it to him gently. Fortunately, they had a room free and we seriously considered seeing if we could stay the following night too as we hadn’t paid a deposit for the hotel we had booked, but there were no rooms free.

We booked a car and driver, (who turned out to be from Nepal and had been in Delhi for 11 years but goes back home each year to see his family) and asked him to take us to the Government Emporium. This show cases crafts from each state at set prices with a fixed proportion going to the producers. Mary had been asked to get some incense for a friend and he stopped at an excellent shop on the way out where they had more different types that I have seen in my life. The trouble is they insist on opening packets for you to smell and after a while your nose seizes up completely.

The final leg of the trip was the Hotel International Inn, approximately 4km from Indira Ghandi International Airport and so a 5-minute drive in the morning. I was relieved to find that, once again, Internet booking works and despite not paying in advance, we had a twin room booked and as they run their own taxis, they had quoted 200 Rupees to transfer to the airport in the morning. On balance, it was a better choice then the Grand Godwin as a base for an early morning flight and to Mary’s relief this place was not a Hotel Smyle clone either.

We had supper at their sister hotel next door, the Hotel Star, before going back to our room to pack and have an early night in preparation for the flight home. Not a very impressive menu, especially if, like me you had eventually admitted defeat on the gastro-intestinal front and decided to avoid anything spicy for a few days. The girl on the pay desk spent her time giggling on the phone and filing her nails while a thin, anaemic looking waiter of about 20 years old who walked as if he was 90, shuffled up and down from the dumb waiter bringing each item of the order one at a time and letting them slip out of his hand onto the table at an alarming angle, especially as I had ordered cream of tomato soup. That backfired on me totally as Heinz it certainly was not. Actually it was very nice but what I initially thought was a chilli kick, I suddenly realised was Asafoetida, a member of the onion family that tastes strongly of hot garlic but, fortunately, doesn’t have either the after-taste or smell. For those who are interested, Bart Spices do it and it’s so strong in smell that, despite being in a glass bottle, inside a glass bottle, you can still just about detect the aroma of garlic seeping through the plastic lid.

It reminds me of the Garlic oil in my essential oils box. It’s wrapped in a bubble wrap envelope, inside a self-seal plastic bag, in a metal tin with 3 rubber bands keeping it closed and it still stinks of garlic bread!