The City that shall not be named

On December 18, 2011 our international foursome left Delhi on an early morning train to Agra. Our arrival was my first continual experience so far with...what shall I call it, Caucasian notoriety? Agra is quite obviously a tourist town, I understand that, so perhaps it was not all about the color of my skin that drew crowds around our group, shoving and saying "hello" "bye-bye" asking for money, asking if we want tuk-tuk rides, asking to take our bags, trying to take our bags, general gawking. Perhaps it was just more evident here than in Delhi, because there is almost nothing else except tourists and the Taj Mahal in Agra.

In any case, after fighting off a herd of tuk-tuk drivers, we four loaded into one of these vehicles (fig 1, 2) with all our bags and raced off to Tourists Rest House, which proved to be a great respite from what is truly not a spectacular place to be.




Though that could just be my embittered perspective after what can only be described as a "special" trip.

The day we arrived was clear and sunny. After settling our rooms (600 rupees per night), we loaded into a taxi and headed out to Fatehpur Sikri, built by Mughal King Akbar in the late 1500's. It was meant to be established as a town, his seat of power, but by 1590 he'd already abandoned the site, either due to lack of water to maintain a city, or to further his war campaigns. This walled city is really lovely, and once you again shake off the masses of children trying to sell to or beg from you, Sheikh men screaming at you that you are defiling the tomb of Salim Chisthi just by looking at it, and unwanted guides talking at you then demanding payment, the architecture of the place is ornate, the various wives' palaces are spacious and breezy, and the view is pastoral. A lovely afternoon all-in-all.






We returned home for snacks in the courtyard of the hotel, which is draped in Christmas lights and very green and discussed the plan: awaken before dawn, tuk-tuk to the West gate of the Taj, get in at 7am to see the "spectacular sunrise against the Taj Mahal's facade," linger as the sun rises in the sky and generally appreciate it's unique beauty.

Here's how that turned out: woke before dawn, tuk-tuk'd to the South gate where driver told us to shop in his friend's store, refused and insisted on going to the right gate, waited in ticket line until 7am, as employees decided not to open at Lonely Planet's reported 6am time, re-queued at the actual West gate, were let in about 8am, realized the fog was not letting up, could not see the sun rise at all, could not see the Taj Mahal itself from farther than ten feet away, perpetually being followed by a single Indian man at about 5 paces, waited and waited in the cold fog until 10am, gave up and left.

 There it is! The Taj Mahal! What, you can't see it?

I was in a particularly sour mood, having traveled 8,000 miles to see this Mahal, amongst other things, having paid $15 to do so and not actually having seen it.  I almost declined to continue on to the Red Fort, afraid I would poison everyone else's day, but I'm glad I persevered, because the Red Fort was both beautiful and comforting. As we entered I felt at home, and I continue to be surprised at how similar many Indian sites are to those I lived with in Sevilla, Spain. I always assumed it was an African Islamic aesthetic that colored so many Spanish sites, but it is truly seated in Middle-Eastern Islamic origin. Perhaps the distinction isn't so great, at the end of the day.

The fog did not let up over the course of the day, but the sun did warm up the town. And when we left Agra early on December 20, 2011, the same thick fog was rolling through the streets. In fact, our train back to Delhi was delayed, a fact we didn't realize when we hopped on the WRONG train at 6:30am, which itself was three hours behind due to fog. When that train pulled in to Mathura at 8:30am, we were forced off, and upon realizing how late our real train would be, we decided to splash out on a taxi to Delhi airport, so we wouldn't miss our flight to Aurangabad.

After about twelve taxi drivers fought it out for our fare, including physically, we started off through the thick as mud fog for Delhi. Our driver was excellent, at the end of the day, because he wasn't terrified of not being able to see anything beyond the front of his own car, and still managed to get us there in 3 hours. Of course all the rushing was for naught, since the fog was covering Delhi as well and our flight was delayed just under 2 hours.

View out the windshield on the way to Delhi.

Arriving in Aurangabad was all the more sweet, therefore, as the weather was balmy, the night was clear, and we had arranged a driver in advance to take us 2 hours out to Ajanta. So to recap my day of December 20th: 2 hour wrong train ride, 3 hour terrifying taxi ride, 4 hours waiting in an airport, 1.5 hours on a plane and 2 more hours in a taxi. Yes.

Anyway, we are referring to Agra as "The city that shall not be named" heretofore. My singular tip for the Taj Mahal would be this: check the weather before you commit to your dates. The hotel owner told us this weather was unusual, but it ended up lasting about four days. Perhaps secondly I would suggest just doing a day trip to Agra from Delhi and not staying there at all.

Arriving in India and Meeting the Brits

I boarded Air India flight 102 on December 13, 2011 out of JFK International Airport, nervous energy thrumming in my veins. Here's when I admit my big indulgence: flying business class. After traveling throughout South American by bus for a year, the idea of restrictive spaces for 16 hours makes me twitch. Plus I woke up at 4am, flew JetBlue to New York and had a five hour layover. I was ready for all that Air India luxury to be heaped on me.

I have packed pretty ambitiously for this trip, carrying only one 20" hardside Samsonite and a day bag. I'm more than a little nervous about choosing a roller suitcase over a backpack, but I feel like I'm too old and too sophisticated for those big packs. My luggage includes:

• 3 lightweight shirts with varying sleeve lengths
• 1 pair lightweight trousers 
• 5 pairs of socks, ditto on 'pants'
• 1 one-piece bathing suit
• 1 convertible dress/skirt
• 1 pair flats, ditto to flip flops
• 1 moisture-wicking, bug repelling sleep sack liner
• 1 quick-dry towel
• 1 technology bag full of cords and adapters
• 1 makeup bag, so I don't look like a hobo all the time
• 2 tyvek bags for carrying anticipated shopping finds (once suitcase is full...)
• 1 enormous medical bag with everything from dried cherries, bumblebars, bandaids, peptobismol tablets and q-tips to cipro, anti-chafing bar, anti-malarials, deet and antacid

My suitcase is only half-full at final inventory and weighs 20lbs. If I take that bag of meds out I bet it will be 5-8lbs lighter. My day bag is packed too, but doesn't weigh very much, for which I am sincerely grateful.

My traveling companions chose the B&B we reserved, based on a third-party recommendation. The nightly rate is reasonable, though I was miffed when told my airport pickup would cost 1100 rupees, or $20. I know that is highway robbery, but maybe like my business class ticket, I should have put up and shut up so I had a secure first ride into Delhi.

Delhi, of course, is the capital of India, and home to more than 22 million Indians. The US is home to 307 million people total, with big cities averaging 2 to 8 million. So when you're told to expect a crush of people, well the average American has no idea what to really expect. I think the premise alone was enough to make me nervous, and I was grateful to see a driver waiting with my name on a card.

 B&B G-49 is located in Nizamuddin West, near Jangpura Metro station, and with easy access to Khan Market and some public gardens. My room was decent and I was glad to just stay in my room rocking back and forth the first night. Perhaps a touch dramatic, but for someone who loves to travel and does so rather boldly, I'm a homebody who gets nervous about big changes to my routine. Plus with the prospect of a whole day to myself before my friend arrived, I had seen just enough Delhi for my first day.

I thought I had beaten my jet lag when I awoke on the 15th at 6am, got ready for the day and breakfasted. Armed with no map and sketchy directions from the hotel owner on how to get to the metro, I set off at 9am. Somehow I did make it to Jangpura and purchased a 150 INR tourist 1-day card, which turned out to be a great value. I headed to Rajiv Chowk/Connaught Place first, and bumbled my way through the streets to find the Tourist office, where I picked up a map. Back on the metro I made my way to Khan Market stop and on to the market itself for a very emotionally healing shopping session. It's a curiously designed shopping zone but is easy to navigate and meander through. A friend recommended eating at The Big Chill, so I did, but honestly, I came to India to eat Indian food, so my mushroom risotto didn't really hit the spot.

Out of Khan Market to Lodi Gardens; I felt transported back to Seville's Parque Maria Luisa with it's shady greenery and open space. After a wander through and around the park's mosques and shrines I began my long trek the length of Lodi Road to Humayun's Tomb. Crowds and crowds of children on school trips filled the entry park of the tomb, surrounding me in waves, shouting "hi!" and "bye!"

Humayun's Tomb was ordered up in 1562 by one of the Emperor's wives, Hamida Banu Begum, and serves as an eternal resting place for not only Emperor Humayun, but also Hamida and her children, a Hindu wife and her children, as well as one of Shah Jahan's children, Dara Shikoh. The tomb was the first of it's kind in a number of respects, including the tomb's garden grounds, and a number of architectural details that became signatures of Mughal design. Due to some renovations happening right now on the main edifice, you can really only peek into the auxilary tomb rooms, but Humayun's central room is beautifully open and symmetrical, with afternoon light pouring in through lattice-covered windows (jaalis). Once the children were poured back into their school buses, the experience was quiet peaceful.

The next day my traveling companions were scheduled to arrive, and I woke up bright and early at 1am in anticipation, or because I had, in fact, not beat jet lag. Spent the whole day not sleeping but very tired, greeted my friends with an exhausted smile and accompanied them to their spa appointments at Asian Roots. Lizzie and I departed to Dilli Haat for veg thalis at a food stall and quite contentedly headed back to G-49 to sleep.

Our last day in Delhi flew by pleasantly, if a bit chilly. First we stopped by the President's Palace, which was large and heavily guarded, so we moved on to the much more welcoming Laxmi Narayan Birla Mandir, a Hindu Temple opened in 1939 by Mahatma Gandhi, which pays homage to the Goddess of Wealth Lakshmi as well as a number of other important figures. As a westerner, you never quite get used to seeing swastikas all over religious temples, but obviously the meaning is ancient and more peaceful than it's more famous appropriation. We asked Ganesha to look over us and help us overcome any obstacles we encounter, then said hello to Lakshmi before continuing on our way.

Next we went to the Red Fort, which is imposing and surprisingly spacious behind those walls. That's also where the photo requests started; Indians coming up to ask (or not) if they could have a photo of or with a giant white person. Sometimes it's endearing if a whole family wants a photo with you, but less so when shifty teenage boys take camera phone photos of you without asking.  We decided to return to Dilli Haat for a bit more shopping and significantly more eating in the afternoon, which made for a perfect finish to our Delhi experience.

Now south, to Agra.