Agra: The Taj Mahal & a Handy Guide to Tout Management

Agra! What an adventure.

I had booked a train from Delhi to Agra at 7am, the Taj Express. I was waitlisted- 7th- but thought I'd go down to the railway station and give it a crack anyway, hope that some people had missed their train. On the platform, a friendly man told me to get on the train anyway and the TC (ticket collector) would find me a spot. The train arrived and the usual crush of people engulfed the train. I hopped on and wandered through a few carriages looking for empty seats. I was unsuccessful and getting in the way so I stood between the two carriages and waited for everyone to sit down.

There was a bunch of us there, standing in the carriage ends. Two older ladies, a Muslim couple, two old Sikh men, a 20-something year old woman, and about five boisterous young men. I got chatting to the men and younger woman, and they said that if we stood between the carriages, often the TC would let you stay. So, having made friends, I decided to risk it. The train left the station, and I stood there, no ticket, and hoped for the best.

Talked for a long time to the older ladies, using the young lady as an interpreter. Had a few laughs with the guys, and got stared at VERY closely by the Muslim couple. The Sikh men were lovely but no English was spoken but they waved and smiled and nodded at me a lot. About half an hour into the journey, the TC walked through. He ignored the lot of us and went straight through into the other carriage, Ladies and gentlemen, India life hack: If you stand between the carriages you get a free ride! (Disclaimer: I don't recommend this and suspect it could end poorly).

My non-English speaking friends

The cheerful Sikh men

Towards the end of the journey, my new friends had all gotten off at the previous stop, and I was left with the glaring Muslim couple. The woman was wearing a niqab (Hijab that covers the face so you only see the eyes) and the man the traditional full-white outfit with white cap. They had watched me intently the whole journey and hadn't smiled at me at all and I had been feeling distinctly uncomfortable. I turned and watched out the window and ignored them. A few minutes later, a gentle voice said 'Excuse me, sister'. I turned, and the Muslim man said 'You must be tired from standing. Please, come sit with my wife'. He led me to some recently-vacated chairs he had acquired, and motioned I should sit next to his wife, which I duly did. She spoke no English, so instead she shared her water and walnuts with me and we spent the remainder of the journey in companionable silence.

People can be so beautiful. Lesson for today; Don't let the world harden your heart.

Agra, however, is not beautiful. I got an auto to my hotel. Halfway through the journey the driver stopped and swapped with some other guy, which sets off a series of alarm bells. However, I arrived intact. I ascertained that I wanted to spend as little time as possible in my hotel (no hot water, a door that didn't lock properly, filthy, incredibly noisy, and over-run with monkeys) so I quickly dropped off my bag and headed off to the bus station. From there, I took the local bus to Fatehpur Sikri which Wikipedia says is 'a city in the Agra District of Uttar Pradesh, India. The city was founded in 1569 by the Mughal Emperor Akbar, and served as the capital of the Mughal Empire from 1571 to 1585, when it was abandoned.'

Fatehpur Sikri

The bus was the noisiest, joltiest, smelliest, ride ever. Jammed up next to a lady with her toddler in her lap, who quickly fell asleep and stuck his feet in my lap. There are no announcements of stops, the bus just grinds to a halt and people jump off and on with no discussion. I asked for clarification of my stop and the TC just waggled his head at me... I hoped for the best. After a long journey, we arrived in a dusty crowded town, and the bus stopped. Everyone got off so I presumed we were there. I asked a local where Fatehpur Sikri was. He pointed directly up the hill and said 'short cut'. Ok... So up I wandered. I was dubious as I could see nothing but mounds of rubbish and local housing, until this loomed before me, perched high on the hill. My breath was literally taken away. Absolutely stunning.

Fatephur Sikri

Fatehpur Sikri, immaculate gardens

Fatehpur Sikri - Amazing, colossal architecture

Fatehpur Sikri- Men playing cards on ancient monuments. This elephant tower, adorned with elephant tusks

Fatehpur Sikri This elephant tower

Fatehpur Sikri - The Elephant gate

I spent a few hours exploring the ruins. Then I had to head back to the bus as the last one leaves at 5.30pm. I got to the bus a little early and made friends. Played peek-a-boo with the toddler that had previously dozed with his feet on me. Chatted to the handsome Indian man who sat in front of me. Shared lotus root with the couple next to me and got an invitation to their home town. We were back in Agra far quicker than anticipated. Dinner, bed. Slept in my sleeping bag liner rather than risk the sheets...

6am the next morning I queued to see the Taj Mahal in the sunrise. After queuing, and queuing, and then queuing some more, I finally got in, walked quickly to get there before most people,.. and saw this. The smog obscured the Taj, obscuring its beauty and rendering it far less impressive than I had expected. Still beautiful, I explored thoroughly, then headed back to my hotel for a nap.

Me on the Diana Bench, the Taj shrouded in smog

Taj Mahal detail - so intricate

The Taj Mahal is immense.

 I had formulated an agreement of sorts with an auto driver, and he took me to mini Taj, (the Tomb of I'timād-ud-Daulah, but known to the locals as the 'Mini-Taj') red fort, and the Taj gardens.

The red fort is the former imperial residence of the Mughal Dynasty located in Agra, India. It is also a World Heritage site. It was mentioned for the first time in history in 1080 AD... this place is seriously OLD. And huge, at 94 acres.

I could not recommend the Taj gardens the slightest. Scraggly plants and the view was not worth it. Skip this and spend more time at Fatehpur Sikri!

Back to the railway, where I read my book on the platform and chatted to a man who invited me to stay with him and his wife in Kashmir. Despite the dire warnings, I'm very inclined to do so, Kashmir sounds beautiful but I shall see if Pakistan behaves itself. The journey back I sat in my allocated seat and talked to Michael, from the US.

The Taj Mahal, with the glorious sunrise...

My one dire warning to anyone visiting Agra: The touts are horrendous. Selling you 'hand crafted' carvings, offering to be your guide, planning to be your auto driver, beggars. Children with deformities. Children telling you their father is dead. Children saying they are hungry. Stand your ground. Do not give them your money. I wandered on my own and I doubt that anyone who hired a guide gained anything from the experience. In fact, I discovered places that most tourists do not.

Learn this Hindi phrase: 'Bhaiya aage chhodo' (sounds like 'Paya ar-gay churro'). Basically, means 'Brother, fall behind' or, 'bugger off', and said with enough venom, dissuades even the most irritating, insistent guide. Wave your hand dismissively at the same time. Ignore, ignore, ignore.

Overall, Agra was incredible but the pollution made the Taj less incredible than I expected. Things are run down, tired, and dirty. But. As always. People are beautiful.

And so endeth my adventures in Agra.

Red fort

Red fort

Red Fort- happiest day of my life- DOUBLE SQUIRREL! Cost me Rs. 20, worth every cent.

Red fort

Chain of justice- very interesting!

Red fort, Agra smog in the background

Red fort, a 'Genuine parrot', as I overheard a guide say (see the value they add!)

Red Fort

Red Fort- Cannon

Red Fort

Red Fort

Mini-Taj - Tomb of I'timād-ud-Daulah

Mini Taj - I love how the colours have faded from the ceiling

Me at the mini-Taj

Delhi: Tombs, Temples, & Tenebrosity

Lodi Gardens in the smog

Last weekend, as a present to myself for my 35th birthday, I gave myself a holiday to Delhi and Agra. For purposes of post length I'll do two posts, one for each city.

I arrived in Delhi on Friday and Ubered to my AirBnb accommodation, a local family. I was warmly welcomed, fed, then after a quick discussion I was packed up and sent off to Lodi Gardens. The gardens are beautiful, well maintained, and I wandered around until it got dark. Originally the gardens were landscaped and originally named after Lady Willindon, in 1936. Scattered throughout the park are tombs and temples that were built in the 1400's. I love how people picnic among the past, games of cricket energetically contended next to history, and how they seem to exist inside this huge noisy city peacefully, remaining unyielding and constant in the flux.

Bara-Gumbad tombs, built in 1490

Bara-Gumbad tombs, built in 1490, the detail is incredible

Shish-Gumbad tomb, built around 1489 and 1517 

Dinner with my new Indian Whanau <3

I then visited a modern shopping area called Khan Market. Everything is vastly overpriced and it caters to tourists and after a pleasant time meandering around I was happy to leave wit my wallet intact.

Dinner was with Atul, has wife Marina, and their two delightful children, Nikita and Prithviraj. Marina cooked a fantastic meal of an amazing mutton & potato curry, various vegetables, roti... I ate until I couldn't force any more in. Loved staying with a family, in the midst of the normal family chaos and routine.


On my return trip through Delhi, I unfortunately had  a migraine and didn't have the ability to go shopping for spices with Marina and then make my own chai as we'd planned. VERY sad about that! I did go to visit Humayun's Tomb en route to the airport though.

Humanyun's Tomb

Ceiling detail of Humanyun's Tomb

I was told many dire things about Delhi, and I think for the India-uninitiated it could be hazardous! Perhaps by staying a little bit out of town and with such a darling family, I was never exposed to the less than savoury elements I had been warned of.

My only regret was I didn't stay longer. I wanted to visit Old Delhi, and a few other local monuments, and try the street food that Delhi is famous for... next time!

The one negative thing that really influenced everything I did in Delhi, was the smog. The pollution levels were among the highest ever on the days I was there. It was so bad that schools were closed for three days, and all construction works were halted for ten days. The causes of the smog ranged from the fireworks from Diwali, the number of vehicles on the road, crop burning from neighboring farm areas, and industry waste. Likely also the weather contributed- days with no rain, or wind. It was horrific. Visibility was poor. The smog burns your throat, and the black dust coats everything. Nothing is clean in Delhi for long. When you blow your nose, the contents of the tissue are black. It's unpleasant, uncomfortable, and I don't know how anyone can live in that for any period of time.

India, you really need to get your act together and fix this, because of the impact this has on your citizens. It's so much bigger than the smog though, I know this. It's the rubbish in your streets, the open sewage drains. It's overwhelming and I know that there are many other things that are important too, but if you can't provide healthy cities for people to live in, then there's no point trying to resolve other issues.

Where is Home?

The dictionary tells me that home is :

-a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person, family, or household
-any place of residence or refuge
-a person's native place or own country.

A quick Google search tells me that home is where the heart is, or that home is who is who is there with you.

I’m not sure though that those descriptions are adequate. Bangalore was home after I’d been here six days, and I knew no-one except for my colleague. When people asked me how I was going over here, the only thing I could say was that India felt like ‘home’ already, and it was weird. I never have felt out of place, or different. In a culture that is so foreign and where I clearly look different to the vast majority of people, it’s weird how normal I feel, and how comfortable I am.

I have many other ‘homes’. The earthquakes we experienced in Christchurch from 2010 onward changed my definition of home. My home was no longer safe, a refuge. Much of my life, possessions, routines, all had gone. There was no security, no refuge. This, over time, made me realise that those things that we strive for so much in life- the internal-access-garage, the dishwasher, the huge sprawling house with tiled floors and immaculate painted walls - it’s not home. The heart doesn’t care about that stuff. Even though so much had been taken from me, Christchurch was still home.

There is a place, down the bottom of the South Island of New Zealand called Papatowai. It is a place where the ancient heavy forest fringes the sand, with the wild waves tearing, hungrily devouring the beach. The wind tussles with your hair, the salt spray stinging on your exposed skin. It is home and I pine for it.

A person can be home. I met Amanda not long after I moved to Christchurch. It was my first time going to a martial arts class. I awkwardly walked down to where I’d been told to go and there was this woman my age sitting there, on her own. We sat next to each other and the conversation started and now, more than ten years, many episodes of America's Next Top Model, too many boyfriends (mine), one husband each, and two children later (her), the conversation has never really stopped. I feel that we intuitively understand each other, there’s a bond there that has surpassed other friendships, she is home. There are very few people in my life who I remember meeting so vividly, and fewer still who have found a home in my heart.

I think home is more than just the confluence of place and people. It’s an idea you take with you, it’s inside your heart. For a long time after I left my ex-husband, I had no home. Restless, I roamed, unable to relax, to stop, to feel peace.

I listened to a TED talk once where someone said that his concept of home is a stained glass window, pieced together from his life and experiences; that he left a piece of his soul everywhere he’d been, and took a bit of that place away in his heart.

So why is India home?

Because, despite the heartbreak, despite my family and friends being thousands of miles away, despite India being challenging and exhausting… inside my heart I know I am meant to be here. I have chosen to move here, chosen to make this chaotic city my home. I am far enough away from the emotional noise of my ex-husband and Enrique, that I can stop and feel peace.

My stained-glass-window heart now has a bit of India tucked into it, and India will forever have a piece of my heart.

Where is your home?

Mysore: a Palace, a Hill, and my First India Train Journey

This weekend was Diwali, which means a four day weekend in India. Tim asked where we should go and it seemed an ideal time to explore Mysore, a small city south of Bangalore.  Mysore was re-named Mysuru by the Government but the names are interchangeable.It's primarily known for the Mysore Palace.

After battling the Indian Railways website, we obtained tickets and we set off on Saturday morning. The train ride (CC class) was rather pleasant and not as stressful as I was preparing for. The Indian rail system is very well-utilised and was surprisingly organised.

We Uber'ed to the hotel, which was brand new and very clean. Apart from no toilet paper (??) all seemed well. (They did drop a roll of toilet paper off later on). Our first destination was the Mysore Palace. The local royal family used to live there. Wow. Incredibly beautiful, ornate, and ridiculously sumptuous considering the squalor so many Indians live in.  No photos are allowed to be taken inside,  so please excuse the ones I borrowed from the internet. The Palace really is incredible, a must-do if you're in the area. It also get lit up for half an hour from 7pm - 7.30pm on Sundays and public holidays. Entry is free and it's pretty amazing.

We stayed in Mysore for three nights. This was longer than really needed, but I got a bit of book reading done- this is a holiday after all! While in the area we explored the town a bit. Meet the lady who has been hand rolling incense for 45 years:

This lady has been hand-rolling incense for 45 years...!

A lane we walked down

A local street scene as you exit Devaraja Market

Peacock in the gardens

Kittens at Devaraja Market... they were tiny!

Quick guide for other tourists:
The zoo -Sri Chamarajendra Zoological Gardens- was pretty good. Animals by and large seemed well kept in nice enclosures and seemed as happy as caged animals get.
Karanji Lake is close by the zoo and the aviary was good. The signs telling us to avoid snakes meant we stayed to the well-tread path. A good playground for kids.
Brindavan Garden - it's a long-ish drive and a great deal of the fountains, and likely lights, were in a state of disrepair. While the gardens were lovely, I don't know if they are as beautiful as they used to be. In the photo, you can see Krishna Raja Sagara dam. There's currently a war being fought over the water from this dam: http://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-india-37346570 and so it's guarded by military forces with guns. I got too close to the dam and a nice lady with a gun suggested I step away.
Devaraja Market was INSANE. Crowded, noisy, intense. For the first time in India, I did think seriously about pickpockets. No photos because you just cannot stop, or make space for photos. This was the day before Diwali so perhaps the insanity was due to that.
Mysore Sand Sculpture Museum takes about five minutes to walk through. It's certainly a place of talent, but it's starting to show wear and tear. If you head up to Sri Chamundeshwari Temple then this is on the way and worth a quick stop.

Sand museum

Brindavan Gardens

I think the highlight of my trip was the Sri Chamundeshwari Temple. Not so much the temple though; the area is crowded, littered, and the temple itself was shrouded in scaffolding. Cows, dogs, and touts everywhere. Happily, the local monkeys were using the scaffolding as a playground, which was fun to watch.

No- the temple wasn't worth the visit. But the walk up there was amazing. A touch over 1000 steps of rough-hewn marble (??) blocks, which I completed alongside locals; the old man who looked like he was 100 years old and was chanting resonantly as he walked. The giggling teenage girls in their colourful Diwali saris. The local runners. The devout, ascending while marking the steps with dye powder, or lighting little fire-lighters on each step as they climbed. Or the dogs, the monkeys chattering in the trees, the birds squawking and staying out of the way of the monkeys. The whole experience was possibly the best of the trip.

Puppy at the base of the steps <3

Sri Nandi Temple - Half up the stairs.

The Sri Chamundeshwari Temple, complete with people trying to sell you things, and monkeys

View from close to the top

Some of the stairs going up to the Sri Chamundeshwari Temple

Steps to the Sri Chamundeshwari Temple. note the trail of flames up the middle

The base of the Sri Chamundeshwari Temple walk

Now I'm home again for two days then off on a Very Exciting trip! I can't WAIT for this adventure!

Beautiful Things In Bangalore

A Ramanchandran

Just a quick post of beautiful things. Visited the Bangalore National Modern Art Gallery yesterday. The price for locals to visit is Rs. 20 and for tourists, Rs. 500. I have no problems with paying more than the locals, I think it's good that it's accessible for locals to visit. The building itself is beautiful, light, airy, and cool. The first section is the more traditional Indian art, and the second half the modern.

 Disclaimer: I know nothing about art.

A Ramachandran

A Ramachandran - Earthen Pot

The current exhibition is A Ramachandran. He has a strong feeling in his works about the inequality that is evident here in India. Lots of colour, and the size of some of his paintings are massive (which I like). Anyway, I really loved his work.

One in particular is the line drawing above, so beautiful!

Then I found one of Jagdish Swaminathan's artworks. I came home and researched him a bit more. I love the colours and the sense of freedom (see disclaimer) in his art. Beautiful. I'd be happy to have any of these artworks hanging on my walls in my house.

And now your Indian art lesson (such as it is) is over for the day.

Jagdish Swaminathan

Jagdish Swaminathan

 

Jagdish Swaminathan

Indians Are Their Own Stunt-Doubles

Last weekend I ventured to the local market to find the freshest produce. A long, long, long row of produce stalls, selling a fairly standardised set of produce. Garlic, ginger, onions, chilli, potatoes, cauliflower, fruit and vegetables, and spices.

I'm a believer that you can't have too much garlic or chilli, and this market delivered. Cheap and plentiful and fresh. Mounds of fresh mint, coriander, tulasi, betel leaves, and others that I couldn't identify. The smells ranged from wafts of rotting produce and other unsavoury unmentionables, to heavenly spices, then drifts of incense, or flowers. The local cows (and a giant bull) were well fed and cruised around doing cow-type things. Tim and I were the only westerners there and we were watched with much interest. Everyone is very friendly and know who the Black Caps are (embarrassing) and lots of people want to say hello.

When we purchased a cauliflower, the owner suggested I take a photo of their son. He was all smiles until I took the photo, which required a serious face, then all smiles afterwards.

This market isn't far from the apartment, just a quick death-defying auto ride away, so I will be back. I hope one day they will treat me like a local and I won't feel quite so.... watched.

I've been reading a bit about India and after the little experience I've had here so far, a line from a blog really resonated with me: Indians are their own stunt doubles. How true this is. Their traffic is chaotic, every time you travel on the roads, you take your life into your own hands. The living conditions are varied, depending on your status and wealth, but all levels of living require a certain amount of living dangerously.

It really is a nation of entrepreneurs- you need to be able to think on your feet and sell yourself, to put yourself in a better position than the other people around you. At work, I would have more than ten people a week coming in off the street to sell me their product. Whether it is internet, food, recruitment, or e-waste disposal, they turn up and greet me enthusiastically, ardently wanting my business.

Every time I buy something here, I have to give the store my cellphone number. After being here three weeks, I get about five unsolicited SMS a day, selling me everything from shoes, to internet deals, to food, to Diwali gifts. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there, and you really do want to be on the top. Because here, being at the bottom is unfathomable.

Beggars on the street, variously using their children to sell pens or balloons. Or women simply sitting there with children passed out on them (allegedly drugged to ensure their compliance). Old, wizened women, palms open, looking for a few rupees. Various disfigurements or deformities that would ensure they wouldn't be able to live productive lives. How do you decide who to give money to? How do I pick between the child selling me pens at the stop lights, or the man who has a half a leg?