We were so sad to leave beautiful Cabo De Rama, having spent our last day in the hot, hot sun on the deck of our clifftop cabana in the middle of nowhere – one last sunset swim, one last hands-down-best-in-the-world tandoori snapper. That afternoon we’d made our way slowly along a red gritty road, past lonely farmhouses and the driest of fields, past country alleyways heaving with goats, calves and piglets, an elderly woman or two proudly sweeping leaves around their front yards, the odd limping dog or several noisy crows to keep them company.

It took 15 minutes to walk to Cabo De Rama Fort, but in the heat and beach humidity it felt more like three hours. Perched on a rocky outcrop above the sea it was steep, crumbling and unforgiving – adding to its intoxicating attraction for more of the local young loves, all so blissfully unaware of this spectacular backdrop for their romantic trysts right on their doorstep.

We had such an early start the next day – a 2am wake up call jolted us into action – not even the bathroom lizards could be bothered moving at that hour! But the hair-raising, toe-curling trip to the airport that followed was a great two and a half hour taster for what Jodhpur getting-from-A-to-B would be like. Surprisingly at that time of day it was quite misty with all the sea fog. Our driver (who hadn’t quite mastered dimming his headlights or dropping his speed in those conditions) had some pretty tight squeezes when the bravest of crazy village dogs darted out from the kerb at the car, not a care in the world. So many crazy dogs in India!

The flights from Goa to Mumbai and then on to Jodhpur were smooth and comfortable (we’ve got the hang of the domestic terminals now) but arriving at Jodhpur was something else. It was like casually pulling up into someone’s driveway! And if the mad hot dash across the steaming tarmac from the plane was anything to go by (health and safety near propellers completely out the window), negotiating two small conveyor belts for the luggage of approximately 300 people all clambering over each other to snatch definitely set the scene for life in Jodhpur. Then we spotted the crowds gathered at the terminal entrance, again layers deep, oh hell! But everyone was more interested in looking than touching, and we quickly found a tuk tuk to throw everything into and were immediately catapaulted into the next chapter of our Indian adventure.

Man, Jodhpur you’re breathtaking! Urban Indian traffic, I think, is a strange combination of absolute chaos but there’s also a passive order to it all. A bit like Indian culture I suppose. We thought Goa was hair-raising. What did we know. Jodhpur is next level! Heaving with bikes, cars, people, cows and dogs, all weaving in and out, and crazy continuous beeping (which we’ve come to learn is ‘helpful beeping’ not kiwi ‘roid-rage-beeping’). Through the labyrinth of old city lanes we sped, getting deeper into the heart of Jodhpur, and closer to where we’d fall in love with India all over again.

Just as we’d gotten used to the mayhem of the narrow cobbled streets, the tiny shop frontages, and beautifully dusty ornate stone front doors, out of the craziness we spurted and into the most amazingly tranquil, empty courtyard. We were greeted with the traditional Tilak – an auspicious ritual mark on our brows with a red vermillion paste to signify blessing or greeting – and a deliciously refreshing tonic of ginger, honey and sweet lime to symbolise the start of a new adventure.

The RAAS is an exotic, luxurious sight to behold. Here we enjoyed a couple of nights of decadent opulence – we decided to completely blow our budget in Jodhpur (screw it, life is short!) – and went all out on tandoori lobster, spicy mojitos, the-best-bloody-marys-I’ve-ever-had, all while sitting in the epic shadow of the illuminated monolithic Merengarh Fort, India’s second largest and dating back to the 15th century.

Jodhpur is renowned for its shopping, and so we (me mainly) went berserk in the markets, finding trinkets, colourful textiles and perfume oils to die for – opium, amber, lotus, sandalwood, gardenia, every essence imaginable. One of the absolute highlights was finding a tiny specialty spice shop (the best, and oldest by about 200 years, in Jodhpur’s Old City). In its basement at the bottom of a tiny secret staircase we spent a solid couple of hours sipping on jasmine tea scanning the tightly-packed shelves and picking up the best chili powder, garam marsala, saffron, black cardamom and asaphoetida to treasure in our kitchen back home. We were then whisked away by tuk tuk for the next experience that would completely blow my mind. Across the road from the Umaid Bhawan Palace, textiles and antiques! Probably Jodhpur’s worst kept secret (there were truckloads of westerners there) but man! More budget blow-outs having fallen crazily in love with the gorgeous scarves, soft furnishings, tapestries and exquisitely embroidered patchworks, centuries old and made by gypsies from old wedding lehengas – the absolute best of Rajasthan, and suppliers to the likes of Hermes, Kenzo, Moschino and Roberto Cavalli. It all seemed so obscene the amount of money changing hands in there, set against the shanties and beggers lined along the road directly outside.

We’d met the kindest Indian man at the Clock Tower market that morning (after our breakfast samosas), and he’d come along for the ride with us – he negotiated the best deals not just for the textiles but for the antiques and their shipping too – comically raising a few eyebrows at the eager vendors to get them to drop their ‘tourist’ prices further still. It was an education in trade!

And so another tug at the heart – Jodhpur’s spicy, sexy, stylish blend of fine art, food and city life making it such a temptation to stay longer. We’d set aside the following morning to see the Blue City, and explore the Fort, then on to Bikaner – for one of the planned highlights of the trip, Karni Mata Temple, the temple of rats!