Waking up in the fort, sitting on the rooftop drinking coffee looking around and thinking that there's something absurd going on here, maybe a second coffee. Then walking down the the main square and the palaces, sati handprints and gleaming yellow sandstone as the sun rises. Down the slope, winding through the gates and then stepping into this century. Waking up in the fort. 
Today to the lake, architecture and alleys, the prospect of sunset over water. 
The return marked the beginning of another odyssey, the search for the perfect milk cake. 
It's a sweet I've never got round to trying but on the walk back to the lake for sunset I stopped for a sweet and asked what the boss would recommend, which was milk cake. And then, at first bite, my world of Indian sweets was transformed. 
The lake was a sunset place, sparsely populated but maybe less than I'd hoped it to be being spoiled by Pushkar. 
On the way back, lost in the alleys and stumbling happily between outrageous havelis which seemed to lurk wherever my discombobulated compass misled me I realised that I was walking away from the fort when I recognised the sweet shop on the corner and, in the name of science, bought another piece of milkcake just to test my reaction earlier. Taste explosion confirmed I wandered back to be mesmerised by the walk up the hill, back through the fort, darkness fallen, quiet enough to hear footsteps soft echo in the cooling air.