But even for India, these were some weird directions. We were to go up a narrow, twisting mountain road until we turned off on an even narrower, even more twisty track, and then follow that until it hit a dead end. At that point, our driver unloaded our suitcases, a young boy ran out and demanded 50 rupees for the privilege of stopping the car, and some porters appeared out of nowhere. This was followed by a procession of people carrying the various bits and pieces our luggage had mysteriously expanded into, like some Victorian jungle safari only with lighter clothes and fewer elephants. We all processed down a dirt path and emerged into paradise.

Okay, so maybe our little slice of paradise at the optimistically titled International Gokarna Beach Resort lacked air conditioning, hot water, a kettle, a fridge, and a working door lock.

And even here, Health & Safety raised mysterious warnings, such as this sign in the lobby of our beachfront hotel.

But who cared, when our little room opened onto a walkout terrace overlooking a delightful restaurant with a stunning beach just beyond?

The water on the beach was warmer than the stuff in the taps as we watched a glorious sunset.

Getting lost was never so good!