(TLDR: Emma and Patrick's adventures in Agra: touts, tat, and the Taj.)
Back in New Delhi, after a not-entirely successful attempt to sleep through the night. Basically, we've reverted to old-school sleep patterns: four hours asleep, 2 hours awake, 4 hours asleep again. This because we keep getting crazy sleepy around 6, (wo)manfully staying up until 8, and then waking up at 6am the next morning. This is not virtue, my friends - this is Sparta.
Wait, no, sorry, this is jet lag. It's easy to confuse the two when you're Sparta'd beyond recognition.
So - the Taj. Where to start. It is absolutely as awesome as you've heard: inlaid gems mimicking paintings in the white marble walls, outrageously detailed bas-reliefs that are of one piece with the 25 foot marble sheets beneath them, absolutely perfect symmetry in everything regarding the layout of the complex, not just the mausoleum itself - it does your head in, is what I'm saying.
We got up at dawn and headed down to the office to get tickets, and once again got scammed - this is getting to be a leitmotif - but in a way that's hard to be upset about. A man showed us his government issued card while we were in line, and offered to stand in line for us before acting as a guide for the Taj for R1000 (£10). He did this because foreigners pay R750 each, but locals pay R20 - he pockets the rest. It cost us nothing and we got to sit instead of stand, so everybody won. OK, not the government of India, who lose out on, seriously, tens of thousands of Rupees a day, but I'm trying not to dwell.
We walked from there to the eastern gate, stood in gender-segregated lines for security pat-downs, and had the fun of listening to a group of suspicious Canadians convince themselves that the men would be let in first, since women have no rights under law in India, and cannot even get credit cards in their own names. The fact that they almost certainly flew into Indira Gandhi international airport was not discussed. Emma also got shat upon by a pigeon, and literally everyone in line announced this to be good luck, before discussing why it was good luck, and finally determining that it was good luck for the rest of us, as we had not been pigeon-shat.
We met up with Pavel on the inside. He of course had a photographer who would take pictures for us for what ended up being an outrageous fee (although the pictures actually are very good - the man had experience, is what I'm saying) and he gave us an informative tour, telling us all about the architecture, history, and just a little bit of good old fashioned hokum - Built to resemble paradise or no, I do not belief that the canals were actually filled with water, honey, milk and perfume. Honey is way too viscous, the milk would curdle and stink, and the perfume river would kill everybody coming near it. Logistics aside, though, that is exactly the kind of thing Emperor Shah Jahan would have installed. Let's just say the man had expensive tastes.
After our tour, Pavel took us to a tourist shop where we were importuned to buy marble objets de tat, which gave me a nice opportunity to practice haggling - I bargained a R3000 piece down to R1700, so not too shabby. It's almost certainly not actual white marble, nor handmade, but it is pretty and worth the price. Just not worth £30. We also got to try some local sweets called Petha, made of pineapple, but once the guy let us know the price was R500 a box, we made our excuses and ran like hell. Agra is not cheap. Basically, if you ever want to see a land of unfettered markets and entrepreneurial spirit, go to Agra and be horrified/impressed.
After a lovely Indian breakfast (Aloo parantha, puri bhaji and sauces), we met up with our driver to go to the Red Fort (the centre of Mughal power for a century or so) and then Akbar's tomb. Both were impressive all to hell, but probably more so if you haven't just been to see the Taj Mahal. In neither place was our enjoyment diminished by not hiring a guide, although getting past the hordes of guides was a feat in itself. The Fort was a mix of red brick buildings, built by Akbar, and white marble outragery built by Shah Jahan - when I say expensive tastes, this is what I'm talking about. Akbar's tomb was amazing as the man himself. Gigantic garden with a mausoleum in the center, decorated on the outside with Muslim, Hindu, Christian and Jewish motifs. Akbar, fittingly enough for emperor of such a diverse realm, created his own religious philosophy of tolerance and syncretism called Din-i-Ilahi - God's Path. He cemented this by marrying wives from different religious backgrounds, and is still remembered today as a wise and just ruler. The inside of the tomb is incredibly austere - a huge and plain chamber with a domed roof that creates unspeakably beautiful acoustics, and an unadorned white marble sarcophagus in the centre. The gardens surrounding it have been marked by the British Empire - Lord Curzon, who restored pretty kuc Finally, we got back in the car for a quick 6 hour drive back to New Delhi.
At which point our hotel claimed never to have heard of our so-called reservation.
After 15 minutes of panic, searching for and presenting documentary proof of a booking confirmation, and suspicious looks from the owner, we ended up getting the penthouse suite, since that was the only room left available. And it's lovely! Lovely enough that we both collapsed into the massive comfy bed and slept right through dinner.
And that brings us full circle. Today we check out Delhi itself and then meet up with Dragoman for the actual tour. First stop, Rajasthan!
P
Back in New Delhi, after a not-entirely successful attempt to sleep through the night. Basically, we've reverted to old-school sleep patterns: four hours asleep, 2 hours awake, 4 hours asleep again. This because we keep getting crazy sleepy around 6, (wo)manfully staying up until 8, and then waking up at 6am the next morning. This is not virtue, my friends - this is Sparta.
Wait, no, sorry, this is jet lag. It's easy to confuse the two when you're Sparta'd beyond recognition.
So - the Taj. Where to start. It is absolutely as awesome as you've heard: inlaid gems mimicking paintings in the white marble walls, outrageously detailed bas-reliefs that are of one piece with the 25 foot marble sheets beneath them, absolutely perfect symmetry in everything regarding the layout of the complex, not just the mausoleum itself - it does your head in, is what I'm saying.
We got up at dawn and headed down to the office to get tickets, and once again got scammed - this is getting to be a leitmotif - but in a way that's hard to be upset about. A man showed us his government issued card while we were in line, and offered to stand in line for us before acting as a guide for the Taj for R1000 (£10). He did this because foreigners pay R750 each, but locals pay R20 - he pockets the rest. It cost us nothing and we got to sit instead of stand, so everybody won. OK, not the government of India, who lose out on, seriously, tens of thousands of Rupees a day, but I'm trying not to dwell.
We walked from there to the eastern gate, stood in gender-segregated lines for security pat-downs, and had the fun of listening to a group of suspicious Canadians convince themselves that the men would be let in first, since women have no rights under law in India, and cannot even get credit cards in their own names. The fact that they almost certainly flew into Indira Gandhi international airport was not discussed. Emma also got shat upon by a pigeon, and literally everyone in line announced this to be good luck, before discussing why it was good luck, and finally determining that it was good luck for the rest of us, as we had not been pigeon-shat.
We met up with Pavel on the inside. He of course had a photographer who would take pictures for us for what ended up being an outrageous fee (although the pictures actually are very good - the man had experience, is what I'm saying) and he gave us an informative tour, telling us all about the architecture, history, and just a little bit of good old fashioned hokum - Built to resemble paradise or no, I do not belief that the canals were actually filled with water, honey, milk and perfume. Honey is way too viscous, the milk would curdle and stink, and the perfume river would kill everybody coming near it. Logistics aside, though, that is exactly the kind of thing Emperor Shah Jahan would have installed. Let's just say the man had expensive tastes.
After our tour, Pavel took us to a tourist shop where we were importuned to buy marble objets de tat, which gave me a nice opportunity to practice haggling - I bargained a R3000 piece down to R1700, so not too shabby. It's almost certainly not actual white marble, nor handmade, but it is pretty and worth the price. Just not worth £30. We also got to try some local sweets called Petha, made of pineapple, but once the guy let us know the price was R500 a box, we made our excuses and ran like hell. Agra is not cheap. Basically, if you ever want to see a land of unfettered markets and entrepreneurial spirit, go to Agra and be horrified/impressed.
After a lovely Indian breakfast (Aloo parantha, puri bhaji and sauces), we met up with our driver to go to the Red Fort (the centre of Mughal power for a century or so) and then Akbar's tomb. Both were impressive all to hell, but probably more so if you haven't just been to see the Taj Mahal. In neither place was our enjoyment diminished by not hiring a guide, although getting past the hordes of guides was a feat in itself. The Fort was a mix of red brick buildings, built by Akbar, and white marble outragery built by Shah Jahan - when I say expensive tastes, this is what I'm talking about. Akbar's tomb was amazing as the man himself. Gigantic garden with a mausoleum in the center, decorated on the outside with Muslim, Hindu, Christian and Jewish motifs. Akbar, fittingly enough for emperor of such a diverse realm, created his own religious philosophy of tolerance and syncretism called Din-i-Ilahi - God's Path. He cemented this by marrying wives from different religious backgrounds, and is still remembered today as a wise and just ruler. The inside of the tomb is incredibly austere - a huge and plain chamber with a domed roof that creates unspeakably beautiful acoustics, and an unadorned white marble sarcophagus in the centre. The gardens surrounding it have been marked by the British Empire - Lord Curzon, who restored pretty kuc Finally, we got back in the car for a quick 6 hour drive back to New Delhi.
At which point our hotel claimed never to have heard of our so-called reservation.
After 15 minutes of panic, searching for and presenting documentary proof of a booking confirmation, and suspicious looks from the owner, we ended up getting the penthouse suite, since that was the only room left available. And it's lovely! Lovely enough that we both collapsed into the massive comfy bed and slept right through dinner.
And that brings us full circle. Today we check out Delhi itself and then meet up with Dragoman for the actual tour. First stop, Rajasthan!
P
Oh my Patrick, you are SUCH a writer!! What a wonderful piece. Both you and Emma are outstanding scribes. I feel like I am there, seeing and hearing and smelling things I may never see in what's left of my life. Reading your blog is the next best thing. And that's pretty darned good, Old Bean. Onto next post.
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