We arrived in Bharatpur, and happily, so did my luggage. I was overjoyed to be reunited with my hairbrush and clean clothes and shampoo and emergency medicine. It was also reassuring to be able to pop Hayden’s bottles in the steam steriliser every night (I had previously been sterilising them by filling them with boiling bottled water) and to use nappies from home. After sunset there were quite a few mosquitos in the hotel restaurant, our waiter spending his time in between courses vanquishing them with an electrified tennis raquet, and I was glad that we had all been taking Malarone to prevent malaria, especially as we had chosen not to use any mosquito repellent.

When we first arrived at the hotel, we noticed that they had several peacocks and peahens. At first we did not take much notice, as we had assumed that the owners had imported them and clipped their wings, as is common in Australia. It was only when we saw one of the peahens take flight that we recalled that the birds are native to this area and we had just seen our first wild peafowls.

The next morning we gathered at sunrise to take an early cycle rickshaw through the world heritage listed Keoladeo National Park, which contains artificial marshes first installed in 1763 by the Maharajas to improve their duck-hunting experiences. Since 1982 it has been a haven to 364 species of birds, and is an important breeding site for herons, storks and cormorants. We saw dozens of bird species during our hours in the park, along with some ruminants and a pair of Indian grey mongooses (but sadly no fishing cats).

Our naturalist pointed out a male jaçana bird following its baby. He told us that the bronze-winged jaçana birds are a species of waders, and it is the males who take responsibility for the care of the young, even carrying their offspring between their wings and body. He smiled and said to Adrian “just like you”.

We learned about the Intermediate Egret, identifiable by its yellow bill and black legs. I felt a bit sorry for the birds with such a demeaning name, and I thought that they were probably a bit jealous of the cute Little Egret and the impressive Great Egret.

With this adventure under our belt before breakfast, we returned to the hotel feeling quite accomplished. We said farewell to Kim who was flying back to Belgium, and prepared for a long dusty drive to Ranthambore National Park.

John’s new friend Anton offered to take us around and show us the best of South Cyprus for the day. We started with a drive up the coast to Coral Bay, past some herding ruminants, and then stopped in to see the national bird and animal park. After admiring the puzzle-solving abilities of the parrots, fearsome owls straight out of Ga’Hoole, we dropped in on the show-pony peacocks, the cute ring-tailed lemurs and the huddling little owls.

We promenaded down the Paphos Boulevard with an ice-cream in one hand, and then Anton took us to his favourite restaurant, a small place on the shore, where the chef brought out fresh fish for my approval before grilling up a delicious sea bass. On our way back, we stopped at Aphrodite’s legendary birthplace, a scene of serene blue water and shapely rocks.

Another aspect of Australia that I miss is all the birdlife. Over here all we have are pigeons, crows, and a few feral parrots.

Back in Australia, I was surrounded by the most exquisite feathered creatures. I could wake to the melodious warble of a magpie or the cacophony of one hundred shrill sulphur-crested cockatoos. Walking past some bushes, I would smile at the antics of the promiscuous fairywrens, while pairs of plovers called to each other as they watched over their young. Perhaps a Kokaburra’s echo would sound from above. I would look up from my work to find two rainbow lorikeets in the tree outside, merrily nibbling of the tender shoots at the top.

One bird that I don’t miss is the Emu. Whenever we went to a nature reserve they would run up to me with their beady eyes and sharp beaks. They would stare straight into my eye, and terrorise me until I surrendered my picnic lunch. At least that is a threat that is less common over this side of the world.

We have now crossed into Georgia, and we are spending nine days exploring this little country on the Black Sea, in between Russia, Armenia, and Azerbaijan. It seems more European and more prosperous than Armenia, however a lot of the country that we drive through is full of small family farms. We spent one afternoon visiting a family of potters. The family welcomed us into their home, and the father demonstrated his technique, carefully spinning the pottery wheel with one hand while shaping bowls and flagons with the other.

After he had finished, he asked if any of us wanted to have a go. I volunteered, and constructed a terribly lopsided and unstable pot. The rest of the tour group suddenly became experts at pottery, giving unhelpful advice such as “spin it faster” and “use more water”. At the end, my pot was graded 3/10.

Adrian had a go after me, and his pot earned him 5/10, and the father was actually able to salvage it into a small bowl, to be sold in the pottery shop next week.

After our adventures in pottery, I met the baby chicks and the baby calf in the small garden outside the house. The chicks ran around with tiny cheeps, and the adorable calf greeted me with big brown eyes and a big lick from its long black tongue.

We bough a clay hedgehog piggy bank from the pottery store to celebrate the occasion. I am really enjoying the chance to get out into the countryside. Life here is such a contrast to the big city. While I am saddened by the poverty and the lack of opportunity and access that is so visible here, I am also finding it very relaxing to be able to take some time out to live a simple life surrounded by nature.