Agra - The Taj Mahal - November 25-27, 2005

2005-11-28T22:31:00.000-08:00

There is more that can be said about the Taj Mahal than I can write here so go do a Google search. It takes a bit of getting used to being accosted by touts again after being out of cities for 9 days, selling wooden snakes in cane baskets, postcards, anklets, bracelets and more. I personally find the fort more impressive than the Taj, having a separate palace built by each of the first 6 Mughals rulers according to their taste (all from red sandstone except of course the one by the guy who built the Taj made out of the same white marble). It is like may ironies in life that he spent the last 8 years of his under house arrest overlooking the Taj he built(although in what must be the most beautiful jail in the world, a corner of the palace).

We are surprisingly taken to an upmarket tourist souvenir warehouse on our way back to the hotel. Every rickshaw driver, hotel reception member and person walking the street wants to take you to the shop of a "friend" of the theirs where they will get a commission just for bringing you and a percentage of the sale if you actually buy anything. To have the tour leader organise one is a bit unexpected. The place has exorbitant examples of the inlaid marble like the Taj is made from made into table tops with designs ranging from floral and fauna to chess and backgammon boards, jewellery boxes, candlesticks and anything that can possibly be made out of marble. There is also clothing and costume jewellery that must have had the Made in China labels taken off. Hilarious.

At the hotel we have dinner, pack and join Des, Leanne, Craig I, Mamae and Tom for drinks. Craig has smuugled in a flask of the local whisky which he call "hooch" that we buy cokes for. After 2 glasses, my heart is palpitating and I am seeing white stripes like road lines in front of my eyes and decide to go to bed, having strange dreams from whatever the "hooch" is made from.

The next day we are let off near the guesthouse we are staying in and our trekking brothers and sisters say farewell. Our own adventure begins. The guesthouse is more of the backbackers type accommodation we were expecting and will have to get used to over the next year. After checking in, we head to the train station to get our ticket for Varanasi. The queue takes 40 minutes for the information line (you can't buy tickets at the information line and you can't get information at the ticket line). The direct train to varanasi is full, so we take the suggestion made by the gusthouse owner to go via Gwalior which is an hour from Agra. The train we want from Varanasi to Jaipur leaves on the 28th or 30th, not the 29th as we wanted. We book for the 30th and are 8th and 9th on the waiting list for seats. The train system always overbooks knowing people will miss/change trains, and always keeps spare seats for army/VIPs which they then distribute on the day of travel if they haven't been taken by them, so we feel confident of getting a confirmed ticket. Sometimes people are waitlisted 45th and still get a ticket.

We head to an internet cafe and transfer the photos and video from my camera to CD. I try to webcam call Jett. He can see me but not hear me. Aparently the computer has a video card but not a sound card (the one with the sound card doesn't have a video card!!). I call instead. It is so wonderful hearing his voice, like your favourite song that you're used to hearing and dancing to every day but haven't been able to for weeks, and then it comes on the radio, and it doesn't matter where you are, the middle of the street, and you start to sing and dance in delight. He says he's going to miss Sunday morning cuddles, where whoever wakes up first snuggles into the other's bed. Me too. This is the true price of this trip.

Beck meets Bobby, an Indian mother of 3 who invites us for tea to her home tomorrow and we go to Zorba the Buddha for lunch, recommended by Justine. It is their between lunch and dinner break but they still serve us. There is a young Indian couple already there, who make the playful, seductive conversation of new lovers, or so I imagine, throughout the meal. We decide to take the long way back to the guesthouse and see children offering henna hand painting on every corner, car parts street and a wedding. As diametrically opposed to our time only 36 hours ago in the mountains, but that is India. We go back to the hotel for the night and prepare for our trip to Varnasi, India's holy city, tomorrow.

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