Despite being struck down by a stomach bug, James Davis finds plenty to explore on the streets of Lahore as he reveals in his new diary extract

It had to happen sooner or later. You don't often go six weeks in a foreign country without having a few days of illness when you wish you were home rather than in some youth hostel bed. I can't be sure what the culprit was – the drink with lots of ice or the burger off the roadside seller? I must consider myself lucky as I'm in Lahore, rather than some small village, and there is plenty of bottled water and foreigners offering sympathy.

The city offers much more than bottled water and sympathetic foreigners. It is one of the great old cities of the sub-continent, rivaling Delhi and Agra with its magnificent Mughal architecture. The huge Badshahi Mosque was once the biggest mosque in the world holding some 100,000 people and Lahore Fort is packed with crumbling edifices. There are also a large number of Anglo-Mughal buildings that echo of the Raj and Empire. It was this city that inspired many of Rudyard Kipling's stories of India during his time as the editor of a local newspaper.

Lahore is also a good place to watch some of Pakistan's other popular sports. Horse Racing has quite a following in the cities of Pakistan and I was intrigued to see what a race meeting would be like in a country where betting is illegal. However, when I arrived I found bookmakers marking up the odds on bits of blackboard like they would do back home. Apparently the bookmakers pay a certain amount of money (about 20,000 rupees or £250), for the organisers of the race meeting to turn a blind eye. The races were competitive enough, although there were some complaints from punters who were sure that they were fixed.

Lahore is also a centre for the ancient art of Kushti, a type of wrestling. I found a small club at the edge of one of Lahore's parks. It was a run down affair with a large practise ring constructed out of mud. I watched a few wrestlers sparring with each other in their unflattering loincloths. As with a lot of wrestling there seemed to be more fainting and slapping than any real action. I talked to the wrestlers who all dreamed of becoming the next WWF champion, Jackie Chan or Arnold Sharwzenegger. They even let me try their `special drink', sardai, which is renowned for making you into a great wrestler and an even better lover.

The game of snooker is also a great favourite with the people of Pakistan. It is strange to see a `snooker hall' situated right next to a Mosque in the old part of the city. According to local people, Pakistan has a World Champion snooker player, but I can't ever remember a Pakistan player ever going head-to-head with Stephen Hendry or Ken Doherty?

I am sad that I haven't come across `kabadi', the game made famous by Channel 4 in the days before they had the rights to cricket. There is also the legendary sport of `buzkashi', a polo-like game played with a headless goat, but I somehow doubt that I shall get the chance in Faisalabad or Karachi.

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