The first glimpse inside a dreamily perfumed, heavily carved, sandalwood Kashmiri houseboat on Dal Lake, Srinigar is one of chandeliers, pink and red silk furnishings and carpets, sumptuous silk sofas and cushions and a silver samovar of cinnamon tea waiting for us.

We collapsed in fits of giggles. It was so exotic and beautiful, so other worldly we couldn’t think of anything to say.

We had been travelling in Northern India to get as close as a Christian can get to the source of The Ganges. The trip had been pretty rough on the most appalling roads winding around the side of the Himalayan foothills, roads just wide enough for our Indian Ambassador car to fit on until we encountered brightly decorated buses hurtling down the road towards us. The drop outside my window was so far that the river at the bottom was just a trickle.

As we pulled to the left, sending rocks and gravel over the edge, I wondered how long it would take for anyone back home to realise we were lying dead in a ravine.

However, we made it as far as possible and I must say it was a darn site easier coming down on the cliff up side of the road instead of cliff down.

So, after this adventure which I was absolutely certain we wouldn’t survive, to be at water level in all this luxury was somewhat overwhelming.

The Kashmiri food was delicious, the beds like concrete, the toilets blocked and the other guests hilariously rich Texan oil millionaires who kept us fascinated with their stories of hunting only the biggest Himalayan Blue Sheep.

Vegetables and flowers are grown on floating islands all over Dal Lake and sold by the growers from their shikaras-which are small boats shaped like a Venetian Gondola, but pushed along with a long pole rather than sculled.

There would be a call from outside and from the veranda we could see a boatman in his boat full of fruit and flowers for us to buy. Irresistible.

A shikara ride at sunset was the most peaceful, beautiful way to dream off and revel in this amazing country once again.