Grand, exhausting and rewarding

Two weeks in Delhi was both too long and nowhere near enough. It's that sort of city. Or cities, new and old. At the same time, the place is maddening, inspiring, suffocating and unforgettable. To Westerners it's most famous for its severe treatment of visiting bellies; for locals it's a place of historical wonderment that has become a bit busy. Like much of India, a traveller's experience depends on what he wants to see.

From the sixth floor of a simple hotel next to the chaotic station, it was possible to view a huge chunk of the city. Emotional conflict was a feature of the trip. Some moments I couldn't stop looking at the slums, full of hungry people, living next to rubbish and with the mind-altering soundtrack of hundreds of nimble auto-rickshaws. Then, peering further away, there was a magical mosque, with its bulbs and minarets almost floating towards the clouds. A beautiful building, literally breathtaking, whatever your religion - and it wasn't on any sightseeing list.

One of the things Delhi does best is buildings. For travellers, arming yourself with a copy of William Dalrymple's City of Djinns is a good start. Head to the Red Fort, the centrepiece of Old Delhi, and stare. It was here that the Australians posed for their World Cup team photo in 1987, the front row sitting up tall, with hands on knees, in front of the mighty sandstone walls. Attempting a two-man version of the shot didn't feel that silly.

Once inside, stay there for a day. Laze, gaze and read. If you stay towards dusk, when the haze creeps back in, the colours of the walls change and the shadows broaden from the structures that used to house harems, royal meetings, riches and battles. My biggest regret of the fortnight there was being at the fort for less than an hour because we had to go to dinner at the Australian embassy.

Like in London, Paris or New York, stunning buildings are everywhere. The auto-rickshaws offer excellent viewing with their open sides, and the bouncy seats of the Ambassador taxis help raise you that little bit higher. Ask the driver to slow down when nearing the Presidential Palace and India Gate, which were both designed by Edwin Lutyens, the English architect. The roundabout of Connaught Place is always worth a couple of circles, on the inner and outer rings.

My favourite structure of them all was Qutub Minar in south Delhi, a 72m tower built around the 12th century. Originally put up for protection, it now stands in a quiet garden, protected by its world heritage listing, and visited by locals and tourists who wonder how such a perfect structure could have been built so long ago. If you hire a driver - or you go with a local mate - it's possible to do Qutub Minar, the Lotus Temple, Raj Ghat and the Red Fort in a day, although most travel in Delhi is measured in hours.

It is an exhausting city - tiring and polluted, yet rewarding. The Lotus Temple is a domed building that has similarities to the Sydney Opera House and is home to followers of the Bahai faith. Raj Ghat, which is not far from the cricket ground, is the memorial to Gandhi, and translations of his outlook are signposted in many languages.

With all this amazing architecture, the Feroz Shah Kotla is a huge letdown. Delhi was my base for a fortnight, with stays in bustling Karol Bagh, the more relaxed Green Park, and the accommodation near the station. There were also visits to the other world of the team's hotel, an oasis of luxury. It was a shame to spend six of those days at the Kotla, as it's known locally.

Built on a fortress - it's virtually impossible for touring teams to succeed there as well - the ground is surrounded by some ruins, but is not enchanting. It's a hotch-potch of stadiums, some not facing directly at the pitch, much like the Gabba before its redevelopment. Entry was via a dirt path with hessian barriers, giving the feel of a music-festival trek at the end of a weekend, and then past the back of the stands and through many security checks. By the end of the game my knees were bruised from bumping against the seat in front.

The pitch, traditionally helpful to the spinners, has been poor recently too. (It was here that Anil Kumble dismissed all ten Pakistan batsmen in 1998-99.) The Australians don't like the venue much either, having won only one Test there, in 1959-60, and two ODIs in 1998 (one of those was against Zimbabwe). Usually they get to spend a long time in the field, like when Cameron White was the No.1 spinner in 2008 and Gautam Gambhir and VVS Laxman posted double-centuries.

If you're fortunate you'll get to watch with a friend, and you'll be even luckier if that person is a local. Stay close and get taken to the restaurants with the best daal makhani, or eat with them at home. That sort of experience is a travel treasure, and I still remember the midnight feast spent discussing India's literature beyond Aravind Adiga and Arundhati Roy.

As a western tourist, some days the beauty of Delhi is moving, and other times the harshness is hard to stomach. But just like the athletes and visitors who opened their eyes and minds during the Commonwealth Games, there is plenty to enjoy in a city of contrasts.