Tigers, trekking and the Taj Mahal - a winter visit to India has it all

And then we saw it. A gorgeous golden tiger, stripes of darkness running down the length of its body as it gnawed at the carcass of a recently killed deer. It was so majestic. So beguiling. So extraordinary. We watched for almost half an hour, taking pictures of this once-in-a-life-time viewing. And then it was gone. It fled as quickly as it arrived.

Looking for a tiger is an activity full of uncertainty; some people never see a tiger, even after multiple safaris, while others spot one on their first safari. Luckily for me it was the latter.

A tiger safari was one of the highlights of a two-week winter holiday in the north of India with my family. We began at 6:30am, in a jeep, covered with bundles of blankets trying to keep warm in the bite of the early morning cold. Tempestuous winds whipped our hair behind us as we raced down the beaten track on the search for wildlife. Enormous bumps, lack of seatbelts and extreme tiredness due to the early start, almost caused us to topple out. But all was forgiven when we came across a tiger.

IN LUCK: Saskia managed to see a tiger during the wildlife safari in India

This was just one of the many incredible experiences we had in India, along with a two-day expedition in Mount Abu, where we stayed the night with a semi-nomadic family, who welcomed us into their one-roomed mud hut, allowing us to capture an essence of a life that hasn’t changed for centuries.

The approach to Mount Abu was daunting. The range was rugged but a cerulean sky softened the ferocity. We set off on our walk with our guide Charles, who also acted as our interpreter. Throughout the day we stopped many times to appreciate the gorgeous view and to refuel with snacks. However, by lunch time we were still starving. From his bag, Charles produced a vast collection of different vegetables (I wondered why his bag was so big!). We lit a fire, prepared and peeled the vegetables, added seasoning and cheese and then cooked it all for about 25 minutes. It was the most delicious lunch on the side of a mountain that I have ever eaten, and believe me I have been dragged up many British mountains!

Our night in the mud hut is one I will never forget. For dinner we enjoyed: incredibly spicy curry, an exquisite potato dish and chapatis which we were able to help roll out. During dinner, we learnt about a semi nomadic way of life. Once drowsy, the mother and daughter helped us lay out our beds; just two blankets on the floor and a couple on top – surprisingly it was very cosy.

HUNGRY WORK: Saskia and her family were shown how to roll out chapatis by the semi-nomadic family they stayed with

Breakfast was a strange mix of buffalo milk, Indian bread and porridge, but made with wheat. We then set off for another day of walking and more amazing views. Charles was incredibly excited to show us where a leopard had left its scent, identified by the pull mark of its paw in the ground and, oddly, the smell of popcorn. We also saw the nomadic family’s summer camp; it was even more basic than the mud hut - a small shelter covered by a piece of dark tarpaulin, to be shared by nine people and about five cows. This experience was, as my dad put it, ‘better than the Taj Mahal’ and certainly less crowded.

My main aims while backpacking around India were to not die from the likes of food poisoning or the appalling traffic. I managed to avoid the dreaded “Delhi belly” but could not escape the hazards of rickshaw rides (also known as tuk-tuks or auto rickshaws).

A notorious part of Indian city life is travelling in rickshaws. With their iconic green and yellow colours and peculiar shape, they really stand out in the hectic Indian traffic. From the beginning, my dad swore that we would never get into a tuk-tuk, they were supposedly far too dangerous. Maybe because of the open sides enabling passengers to fall out, or that the person sitting in the front had to hold on to the thin metal wing mirror (that looked like it could snap at any moment) in order to stay in the rickshaw, or perhaps because of the fact that it is incredibly likely for western tourists to get ripped off by tuk-tuk drivers. But anyway, as you have probably guessed, within the first couple of days of our trip we were travelling regularly in rickshaws.

ANOTHER WORLD: Saskia enjoyed the colour and hustle of the street bazaars

Another idiosyncratic part of India were the bazaars. You will find these in every city: traders line the streets and shoppers haggle - it's all incredibly noisy. What struck me as odd were the identical shops strung along the streets, selling the most obscure items that surely nobody wants to purchase. Have you ever set out to buy a metal suitcase? If you have, Indian bazaars are the place to go. Each street seemed to specialise in something entirely different: from durable metal suitcases that were piled along the streets, to pashminas hung overhead, the soft fabric tickling your neck as you ducked underneath. From rows and rows of coils of wire to open-toed sandals that western tourists are advised not to wear in India, due to heaps of rubbish and open sewage running along the streets.

There are so many other memories too: the battered tuk-tuks that drive literally millimetres away from other cars and even pedestrians, constantly threatening a crash. Then there are the delectable smells of the street food that no tourist’s weak stomach could ever handle; the gorgeous vermilion, azure and saffron fabric used for making saris that no westerner could ever look normal in back home, and the driving skills that no tourist could ever learn. India is thousands of miles away from Yorkshire, and its culture is thousands of miles away too.