Madurai is an ancient city. It's also dirty, crowded, polluted and very difficult to navigate around because its streets are on a grid and everywhere looks the same. The main thing its got going for it is the Sri Meenakshi Temple right in the centre of town, which attracts a great many Indian tourists, and a fair number from overseas. We're not really into temples, but since we're here we decide that with our free day we'll go and take a look.

The temple covers about six hectares and is enclosed by a high wall forming a square. There's a gate on each side, each one surmounted by a similar nine-storey-high brightly coloured tower, decorated with thousands of celestial and animal figures. Sandals have to be removed, so we put ours in our bag rather than leave them at the shoe repository because we've read of a scam where foreigners are charged far more than than the nominal Rs1 or you don't get your shoes back! As we're putting our shoes in the bag someone comes up and tries to tell us that shoes are not allowed in the temple at all. No doubt he's someone who stands to benefit from this scam and we dismiss him summarily at which point he wanders off to berate someone else.

We enter by the West Gate. We know it's the West Gate because there's a small sign which says 'West Gate', but it's easy to miss. Inside, depending upon where in the temple you happen to be, it can be either very peaceful and tranquil, or busy and noisy. One of the busiest areas is around the Golden Lotus Tank, in which devout pilgrims bathe. Personally, we'd probably decline the offer. There are some parts which we, as non-Hindus, are not allowed to go but for the most part there's free access. Throughout the temple, a continuous repetitive chant, no doubt pre-recorded, is relayed through speakers. It certainly creates a meditative atmosphere, enhanced by shafts of light eminating through regular openings in the roof. One aspect which detracts from the overall atmosphere though is the presence of large electrically lit signs.

Between the eastern outer and inner walls is a bazaar, similar to anything outside the temple, selling the usual bangles, postcards, spices or flowers. Sarah gets chatting to some guys on a flower stall, and ends up getting a flower tied into her hair! There are a couple of elephants standing at different points, so we ask what their purpose is and we're told they're for daily processions. However, they seem to be very bored standing about all day, but then so do their mahouts. Mindful of their welfare we ask how long they stay in the temple and are told that they spend 50-60 days each year on temple duty and the rest of the time they're out in the hills frolicking with other elephants. At least that's what we think we were told, and whether we believe it is another matter.

Also within the temple is the rather dilapidated Temple Art Museum which is housed in the 1000-pillared hall. It contains friezes, stone and brass images in glass cases and various illustrations explaining the Hindu religion. It's best exhibit, though, appears to be an extensive collection of pillars.

Sensing lunch coming on we exit from one of the four gates and head back to our hotel. Or at least we think we do, but very quickly get totally lost in the maze of streets surrounding the temple. We must have come out of the wrong gate. We end up getting an auto and find that we've been going in completely the wrong direction.

After lunch and a siesta, and confident in our new-found sense of direction, we again set off, but this time to explore the areas outside the temple. One of the fun things to do is to buy refreshments, such as chai and biscuits, from roadside vendors. Inevitably, once you get away from the hawkers, people are very friendly, and want to know where we're from. Although most people are familiar with New Zealand as a cricket-playing nation we often have to explain where it is, using a postcard with a map which we've brought with us.

At one point we run head-on into a group of Italian tourists who have just climbed out of their air-conditioned bus. They look like stunned mullets as the sounds and smells of the street assail them, not to mention the things they need to avoid treading in or the throng of hawkers about to descend on them.

We end the day eating in the rooftop restaurant of the hotel, then watching an awful 1990's B-movie starring Sandra Bullock called The Net. Finally we settle down to dream of Italian tourists getting hopelessly lost in Madurai.