Chandra, JohnMiller, James and I went for breakfast at a local café and I ate my body weight in idly and coconut chutney. Chandra had planned for us to hire saris from a local man and by the time we were back from breakfast he and his wife were waiting in the hotel lobby. Chandra eats chicken biriyani in practically meal and bestowed ‘the best chicken biriyani’ complement to this man so we already had faith in him. There is a plastic carrier bag on the sofa stuffed with saris and I get first dibs on what sari I want to wear. I pick a purpley blue sari with pink and gold detailing. Beth picks a green and black with gold detailing. We walk to a small shop around the corner for the boys to buy dotis and for Beth and I to get underskirts. The doti is so long and big on JohnMiller and I think to be honest he didn't really want to do it but because we were all so up for dressing up he joined in. It also didn't really help that James is considerably taller and therefore didn't struggle with the length and was more comfortable wearing it. Back at the hotel the lady helps us into our saris. She had also bought matching capped sleeved blouses for us to wear but after a few seconds of trying to squeeze my fat arms into the blouse, we gave up. Good start. Perhaps a few more months of body pump wouldn't have gone amiss? Hindsights a smug sod though. 15 minutes later, wrapped in yards of material Beth and I make our way downstairs. Chandra has found a good little store to get bangles, bindis and earrings on the way to the Mysore Palace which we spend longer in than actually putting the saris on. We leave the shop £2 spent laden with jewellery to match our outfits and head off. I'm not gonna lie, in our saris, WE LOOKED AWESOME. The four of us walk around the palace like celebrities. Everyone wants our photos and the braver people want photos with us. A couple of locals who spoke English came up to us and said it was nice to see us really trying out the Indian culture. And Beth and I joked with a few women about how hard it was to walk in the skirt. Some people tried to make us have a photo holding their screaming, crying babies but we politely declined. The palace itself is beautiful. Probably my favourite building in India, where the splendour inside matches the detail and architecture on the outside. After the palace, and about 50 photos just on the walk out, we go to a local restaurant called Park Lane for lunch. Beth, James and I have kati rolls and JohnMiller and Chandra have chicken biriyani. It's taken the entirety of JohnMiller’s stay in India to get to it- but he is finally eating a whole meal and it’s good to see because he had been getting skinnier and skinnier and he is in love with chicken biriyani. Chandra also orders a pitcher of fosters and there I sit, in my sari, with a pint of fosters and a chicken wrap. You can take the girl out Maidenhead…

Next stop is the Hanuman temple, which is up a windy road to the top of a steep hill. The temple is buzzing with stalls selling refreshments, street food vendors, women selling jasmine and stalls selling offerings for within the temple. Again, more people want photos and we receive more compliments. Everyone seemed to really appreciate out efforts. On the way back down the hill we stop at the largest bull statue in India and then finally get to the markets.

The aisles are narrow with people brushing past. The air smells of incense and the floor is wet and dirty with low lying blue plastic sheets (like the material they use for IKEA bags) tied in each corner to whatever can hold it providing shade. Each stall is selling something bright and colourful. Coloured powders, fruits, vegetables, materials. The entire market is vibrant in colour and atmosphere. People shouting, haggling, laughing, selling, buying… and eventually when they clock us walking through they're waving and shouting ‘Hello Indian’ to us. It was a domino effect, a Mexican wave, of people turning to face us after hearing their neighbour closest to us shout after us. Beth and I agree that if we had been alone it would have been terrifying, but as there were four of us plus Chandra it was hilarious. As we finally made our way through the maze of the market Chandra turns to us and smiles. I'm pretty sure he knew exactly that that would happen, taking four westerners in traditional Indian clothing, through a local market, but he maintains he didn't. 

A short walk back to the hotel, we reluctantly give back our saris, shower- saris are hot, pack and head off to the train station. The train journey mostly consisted of a marathon Uno session, until someone hits 500. I was in the lead until the last two hands and then Chandra pipped me to the post. Beth however, was a solid last place, from start to end.