On entering the spacious, open hall of the Mansions, it is like a world gone mad. Booths abound selling anything from currency to clothes, to bananas, mobile phones, suitcases for every occasion and Indian spices above which were located 13 floors of rooms for rent.

'Our' tout ushered us to the designated lift which in complete contrast was ridiculously small and there seemed hardly any excess space after the 4 of us plus rucksacks had squeezed in. Floor 7 declared that we had arrived at the inspirationally named 'Pay-Less Guest House' which looked more like a cross between a laundry, an abandoned hospital wing and a deserted bus station after a busy night. But to be fair, the tout was polite and the rooms seemed clean although of cell-like proportions. At least there was no danger of falling either out of the window which was heavily barred or out of the bed which was a snug wall to wall fitting. Interesting, but at 11 a night, what can you say?

Ah, the night. If I thought the market area downstairs looked like a mad house earlier, it was only having a bit of a turn. We squeezed our way out of the building past the restaurant touts who now descended on us like vultures at a meat fest, we dodged the hundred million shoppers and out into the dizzying street with neon signs and bustling traffic. If you are looking for a place to stay that is in the heart of the action, albeit potentially dubious, then this was it.

Returning to our guest house, we encountered the down side of our bargain accommodation. Being on the 7th floor generally meant that the lift was a handy option but this was not for the faint hearted. A security guard handled the queuing system and advised you if there was 'room for one more' or not. We discovered that around 12 people was an acceptable number and if you weren't related at the start, then you would be at the end. With that in mind we decided to take the stairs. Mistake. We wound ourselves in and out of the rubbish, dodged the broken floor tiles and carefully avoided touching the encrusted handrails. After 2 floors, we found ourselves in another part of the building which was being demolished, before the stairs started again in an entirely different place. We didn't like to imagine what would happen if there was a fire and we had to try and navigate a smoke-filled stairway.

That was when I first started to realise what our young people experience in their quest for knowledge. The going is tough, the pitfalls are almost constant and, unlike the accommodation, it doesn't always come cheap.

And for me? We stuck the prison cell out for 2 more nights, travelled into China experiencing some of the most fascinating sights I have ever seen and some of the worst toilets which surely were courtesy from the bowels of hell.

But every moment was a total privilege. To share time with my daughter, to see what she sees, to feel what she feels and just to be with her. This child of mine who is more grown up than I would ever dare to be.

And what is more, I have been invited to join them on the South America leg in 1 year's time. I can't wait. Huh, and me a mother!

Learn more about this author, Annie Mitchel.
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