In March 2004 I was 25 years old. With not a care in the world, no particular place to be and zero commitments to speak of, I packed up a rucksack and headed off to India. The future lay sparkling and I thought it would last forever.
Jaipur had sounded great on paper. ‘‘The pink city!’’ ‘‘The shopping capital of Rajasthan!’’ ‘‘A lively, colourful metropolis!’’ Add to that a royal palace and a historical fort crowning its surrounding hills and the question of whether or not to pay Jaipur a visit seemed like a no-brainer. And yet our stay hadn’t been great at all, it had been less than great. In fact, the whole thing had been a bit of a nightmare.