Having been chucked out of my hotel to makeway for several dozen Indian tourists, I caught the long but oddly untiring 5hr bus to Poona, ex home of the British and near to Deolali, or Doolally, which was where the colonials got sent when the heat or the garam masala drove them crazy. Hence the expression.

Poona (or Pune) turns out to be kind of an okay place to wind up my trip. Regardless of what the Rough Guide says, and I've decided this book is written by very lazy people, it's perfectly possible to walk around this town by foot. I just did it. Okay, I got a bit dehydrated and I think my right ear might have become filled up with pollution, but otherwise I've survived a trip across town to the Tribal Museum. I'd planned to visit the Osho Commune, which is the habitat of rich Zennis-playing Westerners looking for spirituality at Rs1,500 a day. I heard it was nice inside, but considering that it's 40 degrees outside I decided to cut my trip short, and make do with looking at some photos of oddly attractive women wearing very big bangles at the museum. There are worse ways to spend an afternoon. There are no photos of Poona, because there was nothing to photograph.