Mysore, Karnataka: Mysore's climate is refreshing after Kerala. Though hot during the day, it cools down considerably in the evening. I'm even wearing jeans and trainers as I step out for my evening meals. Sleeping should be easier too - but the two hotels I stay in are infernally noisy. And it's not the guests - it's the staff. They sit up talking animatedly all night long and watching Hindi films.

In the small hours of one morning I half-awake and, not be able to work out where I am, I believe I have died and gone to hell. The guttural babbling of the porters sounds to me like the frenzied scheming of Dante's finest. Once I come to my senses and realise where I am, I make a mental note to check whether the word ''Quiet'' exists in the Kannada language.

I spend a few days in this pleasant town, visiting the magnificent palace, the kaleidoscopic fruit and vegetable market, the art gallery and various temples. I return to Goa via Bangalore and another 24 hours in transit. The journey features yet another aspect of Indian bus travel - the paying stowaway: on the sleeper bus all the tickets have been bought in advance, but that doesn't stop the driver picking up passengers on the way out of town and squeezing them in at the front of the bus, pocketing whatever money they can afford to pay him.