Feelings were mixed about Jaisalmer.
While it was clearly a remarkable place - a sandstone city rising up out of the desert - it was surprisingly touristy, with a constant stream of motorbikes and tuktuks bossing the otherwise romantic lanes and squares.
Add to that a selection of chancers anxious to chisel extra rupees for tuktuk rides and excursions, and it left the place a little less than golden for me.
Maybe I was feeling even more touchy than normal.
We'd had an anxious couple of days being inveigled into a high-priced camel safari by our hard-selling hotel guy 'Little Johnny' - he was certainly little, though I doubted his name was Johnny.
The room price was dead cheap and the hotel was great, but still we'd heard (and Lonely Planet even had a specific section) about Jaisalmer touts and scams, so were justifiably concerned.
You'll find out in my next instalment how it worked out.
Otherwise, Jaisalmer was great to see.
The Jain temples were a highlight - seven closely-grouped niches, packed with gods and monsters and LOTS of the naughty ladies - what IS that all about?
The ornate and elaborate Kothari's Patwaon-Ki-Haveli.
Gadisar Lake was more like a flood plain with a couple of ghats stuck in the middle, and the ubiquitous cloud of rubbish skimming the shoreline.
Kim checked out the Palace and said it was nice.
So yes, mixed feelings. A place maybe best seen in the halcyon years of the early 70s, a time when a German traveller told us he had first to knock at the fort gate before even being allowed in.
'Old is gold', as they say in Jaisalmer.
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