‘The drama of India never ceases to amaze’

We asked you to tell us about your unusual travel experiences – and we had some extraordinary responses

ARTISTIC LICENCE

“Can you see anything unusual about the image?” asked our Peruvian guide, Miguel. Having stared at the oil painting depicting the Last Supper in the sumptuous surrounds of Cusco’s cathedral in the Plaza de Armas, we were mystified. Only when it was pointed out that the meal consisted of a guinea pig did we realise the significance of the question.

Following the invasion of the continent by the Spanish, the massive religious building had been constructed on the site of the original Inca temple.

As a final act of subjugation, a renowned local artist had been compelled to paint the famous painting, but he obviously had the last laugh by adding his own twist.

Deborah Pope, Kent

GOING UNDERGROUND

“Try the Kryivka underground restaurant,” said the young woman at the tourist office in Lviv, western Ukraine. “But you will need a password.” “A password?” I asked, surprised. “Yes,” she said, “it’s ‘Slava Ukraini!’” (Glory to Ukraine.)

We were greeted by a grouchy-looking soldier, machine gun at the ready. We gave the password and, satisfied that we weren’t undesirables, he let us in. After giving us a shot of honey vodka, he directed us downstairs, to a mocked-up Second World War partisans’ bunker.

The no-frills food wasn’t bad and the beer was decent. It was the most unusual experience of our long weekend. Martin Nuttall, Cambridge

HERO’S WELCOME

The square in Chania heaved with people carrying olive wreaths and red and white roses. Composer Mikis Theodorakis had come home to Crete. In the dark church, incense burnt as people lit candles and stopped to genuflect and place flowers on his coffin.

Locals in national costume lined up outside and at midday a bell tolled as a choir sang. A band played a funeral march as the coffin emerged, followed by priests, local dignitaries and the Greek prime minister. People clapped as the procession made its way to the hearse that would carry Theodorakis to his home town of Galatas. An old man wiped away tears. “He was the father of Greece,” he said. “He is home at last.” Juliet Robson, Hants

Beat in time: Hindu monks on Majuli island perform with hand-drums

ON TO A WINNER

In Cyprus, a chicken farmer and I helped crew a ketch from Kyrenia to Beirut in exchange for flights back to Nicosia. Over three days, we visited the temple ruins at Baalbek, viewed the crystallised underground caves of Jeita Grotto by boat, and relaxed over a meal at Byblos harbour, where the restaurant walls bore photographs of visiting Hollywood stars.

The night before leaving, we went to the Casino du Liban, said at the time to offer the greatest show on earth. The cabaret included not only dolphins swimming in a huge tank on stage but horses and riders displaying their skills and, true to the hype, elephants too.

We left a chaotic Beirut airport and learnt next day that the Foreign Office had advised against travel to Lebanon. Malcolm Watson, Isle of Wight

RIDING HIGH

The collective noun for cowboys is a saunter, and if you had been in St Louis, Missouri, in February 2004 you would know why. A river of Stetson-wearing humanity – the fringes on their leather trousers flapping, Cuban heels tapping on the pavement – swaggered towards a vast arena advertising “Pro Bull riding”.

The whipper-in homed in on us and, having assured us the bull was never harmed, my husband and I found ourselves swept inside. There was enthusiastic applause for the military, members of which stood proudly, hand on heart, to the strains of The Star-Spangled Banner, then the first bull was released from its pen. The bareback rider was unseated in seconds. Rubbing his rump, he limped to safety and that set the pattern for the afternoon. Several cowboys ran for their lives, the crowd whooped and roared. It was an education.

Susan Ratliff, Newcastle upon Tyne

ANIMAL MAGIC

There were elephants everywhere – on huge flat-loaders or precariously balanced on small trucks – all heading for Kyaukse for “the dummy elephant festival”. Sitting in the cool marquee “for foreigners only”, we did not mind the locals staring at us and taking photos – this was Burma [now Myanmar] and Westerners were still a rarity.

With loud cheers, the festival began. Each village had sent in a life-sized elephant made of bamboo, covered in intricately-decorated black fabric. For 20 minutes, the “animal” performed – two men inside made it dance, stand on its back or front legs, and swing its head and trunk around. The noise from the village band, playing pipes, drums and unidentifiable instruments, was deafening as the mahout directed the elephant. Points were awarded for the effigy, its costume, dancing and music.