And yet not so intrepid really, thanks to the kindness of randomly-met Indians from the schoolboy shyly pointing us to the right platform to the business man in his immaculate suit recommending shops and settling on a fare with our tuk tuk driver to the young man in a t-shirt so earnestly and intensely insisting that all he wanted was to save us from being hassled by strangers. Close talkers one and all - but not so close as the other passengers on the new Metro system. Sardines aren't in it.
Buying a few trinkets cost us little money but vast amounts of time and effort, mostly convincing the driver that no, we didn't want to go to another State Emporium, we wanted a market - and then being delivered to guess where? All part of the Indian retail experience, I know.
Everyone asks where we're from as an opener, but it turns out "New Zealand" is the kiss of death to any conversation. "Australia" works better, we find, though it's galling to have to agree that yes, Australia is bound to do well at the Commonwealth Games here next year. But at least we get our own back when we recoil from their offerings as too expensive and leave shops empty-handed while they tut behind our backs at the cheapness of Australians.