My First Week in India: Sensory Overload, Suspicious Beer and a Goat-Related Incident

People often tell first-time visitors to India that they should start in Mumbai because it's supposedly less of a shock to the system. Looking back, this was probably sensible advice. Naturally, I ignored it completely and flew straight into Delhi.

Within minutes of leaving the airport I found myself climbing into an ancient London black cab whose driver proudly informed me that the vehicle had covered 900,000 miles. Looking at it, I assumed he'd accidentally missed a digit somewhere. The taxi appeared to have survived several wars, a handful of economic crises and possibly the extinction of the dinosaurs. Still, it ran. Mostly.

My first proper experience of India came the following morning in Old Delhi. An elderly man offered to pull me around the city in a handmade wooden cart that looked as though it had been assembled from leftover fence panels and optimism. I briefly wondered whether bicycles had yet reached this part of India. For the next hour he dragged me through a maze of backstreets while I sat open-mouthed trying to process everything happening around me.

The problem with Old Delhi is that your senses simply don't know where to look first. There are colours everywhere, horns constantly blaring, people carrying impossible loads, cows appearing out of nowhere and smells ranging from delicious street food to things best left unidentified. I was so overwhelmed that I completely forgot to take any photographs. That never happens. At various points random strangers climbed aboard the cart for a free ride, much to the annoyance of the heavily sweating old man doing all the work. An hour later we arrived exactly where we'd started and he charged me the princely sum of £2.50.

My journey then took me around India's famous Golden Triangle of Delhi, Agra and Jaipur. Agra was next and nothing quite prepares you for your first glimpse of the Taj Mahal. It really is every bit as impressive as the photographs suggest. What the guidebooks don't mention is the wall of noise that greets you as hundreds of guides, drivers and unofficial experts compete enthusiastically for your attention.

I should have taken a video of the scene because it was absolutely deafening. Unfortunately, just like Old Delhi, my senses were once again overloaded. One thing I did notice was the surprisingly long queue of people attempting to recreate Princess Diana's famous photograph in front of the Taj. Some tourist traditions apparently live forever.

After the tour I asked my guide to take me to a bar. This seemed like a fairly simple request, but somewhere between my question and his interpretation something went wrong. A short while later I found myself drinking beer in what could best be described as a roadside shack. The experience was enhanced by a cow peacefully grazing inside the establishment. To be fair, the cow was considerably better behaved than some pub customers I've encountered back in Britain.

Jaipur introduced me to another classic Indian experience: the entrepreneurial tuk-tuk driver. Mine decided to provide a guided tour of the city as we drove around. Unfortunately his commentary wasn't exactly the sort you'd hear on an official sightseeing bus. "This is where I was born," he proudly announced while pointing towards a rather dilapidated hospital. A few minutes later he informed me that his daughter needed an expensive operation and wondered if I might be willing to help financially.

Being naturally curious, I asked what was wrong with his daughter. He paused for several seconds before eventually replying, "Something to do with her eyebrows." Even he didn't seem entirely convinced by the explanation. Moments later we arrived at his friend's shop, which came as no surprise. Every driver, guide and distant relative in India appears to know somebody with a shop and every one of those shopkeepers is apparently desperate to meet you.

The route there took us down a dark alley where I briefly witnessed a man kissing a goat with an enthusiasm that probably exceeded legal limits in most countries. India continued to exceed expectations. Inside the shop I was welcomed like a long-lost family member and immediately offered a beer. It seemed rude to refuse. Unfortunately the beer turned out to be an 8% Kingfisher and my glass appeared to possess magical self-refilling properties.

Several pints later my decision-making abilities had deteriorated significantly. By the time I eventually left, I had somehow purchased a tailored suit, a guitar and a set of drums that would later be shipped to the United Kingdom. To this day I maintain that none of these purchases would have happened had the beer been a sensible strength.

The tuk-tuk driver was delighted with whatever commission he'd earned and decided to reward me. Would I like to drive his tuk-tuk through Jaipur's rush-hour traffic? Against all logic, this seemed like an excellent idea. For reasons I still don't fully understand, the arrangement involved me sitting partially on his lap while attempting to steer. I have no idea what the locals thought as a bewildered Englishman blasted the horn and lurched through traffic. The experiment ended abruptly when I started heading towards a herd of cows and my instructor wisely reclaimed control.

The most memorable stop of the entire trip was Varanasi, which may well be the most bonkers place on Earth. Along the banks of the Ganges, people practised peaceful yoga poses while funeral pyres burned nearby. Holy men bathed in the river, pilgrims prayed, cows wandered freely and boats drifted silently past. The city somehow combines serenity and complete chaos in equal measure.

Wanting a closer look, I hired a rowing boat to take me along the river. The moment I stepped aboard, the rower informed me that I should give him a generous tip because he was a champion rower. This was before he had even picked up an oar. Curious, I asked what competition he had won. "Champion rower," he repeated confidently. That seemed to be the extent of the evidence available.

India wasn't relaxing. It wasn't peaceful. It wasn't organised. Yet it was one of the most fascinating places I'd ever visited. No country has ever overwhelmed my senses quite so completely, and despite the scams, the commission shops, the roadside bars, the self-refilling beers and the suspicious goat enthusiast, I left wanting to come back.

Although next time I might take everyone's advice and start in Mumbai.