The Taj and other stories

Today boys and girls, we are going to go for a journey through the arch window to see the icon of Incredible India, the Taj Mahal. The Taj is located in Agra which is a 2 hour train journey from Delhi. The trains are quite a civilised way to travel, for some. When I say that, there are various classes which seem quite daunting for the traveller. 2nd class is cattle class and it is just that, but so far I haven't seen any livestock just very cramped quarters - hence why you see the people hanging out of the doorway for some fresh air. Then from there there are various versions of A/C, First Class and Executive Class. For the longer journeys over 10 hours most western travellers choose 2AC which are 2 bunks on each side side of a cabin, Pot luck if you get one on your own or share with 2 strangers. Alternatively, 1st class is a lockable cabin. Security can be a plus as you hear stories of theft and gropings Our travel was just in A/C chair class for such a short journey and it was a nice calm way to travel with a porter delivering water, tea and a hot vegetarian meal. Jetstar and Virgin could take a few tips from this budget service.

Other than the Taj and associated historical monuments, there is not much to keep the traveller in Agra. We arrived at our oasis which the accommodation god deemed a good choice - the Tourists Resthouse. Cheesy as it sounds it was another little haven to return to, at 800R ($24) a night. There was a lovely garden in the middle lit with fairly lights and candles where travellers returned to at night to eat, revive and share stories.

We arrived through the dusty streets after the normal negotiations and jostling. The taxi driver chatting and trying to sell us tours all the way. Agra, as with most towns we have seen so far is not immediately distinguishable from any of the rest - the bustling, dusty streets are alive with honking rickshaws, rubbish, livestock and everyday mechanisms of survival. The Taj mustn't be in close proximity as we couldn't see it's iconic presence in the seeable distance. We soon sensed that this was due to the thick layer of smog.

We consulted the bible and headed to the centre of town for our dinner with the promise of the best rooftop view of the Taj as per usual mode of transport, the rickshaw (fondly termed the Indian helicopter). It is also apparent now that Indians do not know the names of the streets and I'm not sure why they are named as they guide themselves by landmarks. We westerners may as well throw our maps away as even when we pronounce the street name correctly, we are looked at blankly and head a wobble. So, the search for the selected restaurant began with many stops and asking other locals for directions, some guiding us left and others right but never do they admit that they don't know the way.

Finally, at our destination we climbed the stairs to the rooftop just before the sun closed and the dinner trade commenced for business. At first I thought that a condensed mist had rolled in but then realised that it indeed was the thick smog and that the ghostly outline ahead was the famous Taj. Indeed this was the best spot to view it, once upon a time when the pollution hadn't taken hold of this small city. It did however, create quite a mystical apparition until the sun went down and then it disappeared altogether. We saw the disappointment and bewilderment on many faces arriving once the sun had set.

We read that the best time to view this world wonder was at sunrise, when the sun hit the precious stones that were embedded in the stark white marble. Heading off in the dark mist we found a reasonable rickshaw to honky tonk our way there. Some horns have been so overused that they only have a quack left in them, and by that I mean they sound like a duck, which is at least amusing and distinguishable from the majority that are just loud.

We were a little early so were well positioned in the segregated male and female queue waiting for the ticket booth and gates to open at 6.30am (the queue's being segregated for security frisks). Sunrise is a wonderful time of day to witness any marvel and although there were many people around, there was a real sense of stillness and antcipation in the air.

The Taj was built for love as a very extravagant mausoleum, in memory of an Emperor's wife that died during childbirth in 1631. It took 22 years and about 20,000 workers to complete the masterpiece which is made from marble and semi precious stones. I wonder if the Emperor really knew the impact that this monument would have on India and the world in years to come. We were disappointed that the famous entry of the long pool was not filled with water - the water crisis really is hard hitting. But the real sadness is that you cannot see the structure for the smog haze until the sun is overhead, and fairly pointless arising early to get there, albeit to beat the throng of tourists. There is even a LCD scrolling screen in one corner of the complex giving you the stats of the current smog levels.

You are still taken aback by the sheer size and beauty of the structure, stark in its surrounds on the banks of the Yamuna river. I was in awe of the workmanship that went into it by hand. We cannot replicate such beauty even with heavy machinery - Multiplex and the like have a lot to learn and we forego beauty for cheap and quick.

Inside of the great dome mausoleum, the walls and ceilings are ornately carved and embedded with precious stones. This could be so breathtaking if the tourism board put a few simple down lights to highlight the sparkle. This is left to the throngs of tour operators that tout for your business outside, who hold tiny LED torches up to the stone, not getting the full effect of what it was built for - light to hit the stone!

Unfortunately, the Indian Tourist Board must not hold it in such great regard, considering it's iconic status and marketing power for the country they have done little to maintain its splendour. The entry fee is 750R ($25) which equates to a gold mine as they would get thousands through that gate every day. The gardens were also in need of a good mow and tend and as I mentioned, there are no water features in use. They do attempt to minimise the effect of the human traffic by providing theatre scrubs (many times used) for your shoes. Entrepreneurs are abound in and out of the complex reselling these used theatre scrub paper shoes with holes that are almost so big they are not worth wearing. I wasn't sure if it was an official Taj worker who manned the toilet or an entrepreneur trying to take the piss (literally) by charging us for peeing in a toilet that wasn't clean by any standards and was BYO toilet paper. Outside they line the path with the gawdy carnival junk, rows and rows of the same merchandise. Someone must buy this crap for it to be in such abundance.

If you are big on monuments and forts then Agra is the place to go. We decided to visit 2 others out of the 8 or 10. The Agra Fort was our next destination, but first we needed to fuel up. As you know, food is a passion of mine but I held little hope in satiating my appetite here. Outside the fort there was what could be described as a dusty carnival with about 10 food market stalls. I don't know where all the goras were, as we were the only ones again and had to fight off the touts on our own. They all descended on us shouting that they had tea, coffee, eggs, toast, jam and by the sight of their stalls it could possibly be a Delhi Belly experience. Hunger holds no prejudice and so we succumbed to on which quelled our appetite for both food and peace.

Agra was once the capital of India, The fort is red sandstone originally built in 1565 primarily as a fort (funny about that) but over the years and more Emperors to come they all added their own palaces and buildings, constructing a city within a city more or less. Unfortunately over the years many were destroyed in battle and finally the British, as they do, demolished some of these for their garrisons. It's a great place to wander and wonder what it was like in action. There were many great halls where I imagine they dined, played music and had royal ceremonies. The monkeys also use it to play in and we left them to it as they were the red faced species, quite bold and brassy and we have been told to keep our belongings close to our bodies or they will snatch it. It was really quite a sprawling complex that had lots of dark nooks and crannies to explore and view the city.

Our next stop was the Baby Taj which is another rickshaw ride. The driver assured us he would get us there by the quickest route. At least he knew where he was going so we let him do his job. We arrived at a bridge where he paid a police officer 20R, I thought this must be some kind of Indian road toll and then noticed the dirty looks we got from the other drivers coming towards us, in fact all the traffic was coming towards us and we were hurtling into it. The driver told us he paid the officer to go over the one way bridge in the opposing direction so we didn't have to go around the long way! Anything is possible in this country :-) It would cut a morning commute over the Story Bridge by half!

The Baby Taj is pretty much a replica on a smaller scale of the large Taj but in actual fact it was built first. It houses the tombs of a chief minister of an emperor and his wife. Their daughter ended up marrying the emperor and building it for them. By this stage we were a little iconed out but it was more of an up close and personal experience than the its bigger sister as you were able to see more of the artwork inside the domes and the mausoleum.

We were catching a train that night to Varanasi at 11.30pm so we headed back to rinse off, pack our bags and have a rest before the 10 hour journey. I checked that we had our tickets and saw that the departure said from Tundla. Where the hell is Tundla, we were in Agra! I quickly checked with the guesthouse manager and he said it was 30kms away. Now, you and I know that 30k's would only take a half hour or so but the manager said we would need to leave about 8pm for our 11.30 train due to the trucks on the road. An Indian rail station isn't the kind of place you would want to hang out in for a few hours but this is India and anything is possible, so we left at 8.30pm conjuring up a wish to the travel god for a Qantas Club lounge at Tundla station.

Half an hour later we were in the middle of a dusty highway in what can only be described as a scene from Mad Max where it was a battle between us, the Daewoo and the massive trucks to get to the prize. Our driver was a true gladiator and came around the concrete barrier that divided the highway and into head on traffic. Fortunately that wasn't as gridlocked as the legal side of the road but nonetheless it was flowing steadily. Other small vehicles unfortunate to be on the road at this time also followed suit and the other side of the road's traffic were accommodating us in one of their lanes. You have to love the spontaneity and nonconformity of this country. This ingenious tactic yet harrowing experience got us to the train station by 9.30pm with 2 hours to spare before our scheduled train. This being our first overnight/sleeper train experience we were not sure what to expect.

We had been in some dodgy train stations before but this one is the winner so far. There were bodies everywhere on the main platform, mostly families laying on the floor or squatting. We found our platform yet there was no sight of Ellen De Generes or the Qantas Club Lounge. Stacking our backpacks against the wall we used them as cushions for our 2 hour wait. We didn't need any entertainment as we were the entertainment for the evening. People just stop what they're doing and gawp at you. Stu had gone off to go to find a loo, (I don't know why he is such a prude when the rest just unleash it from their pants) and this guy stops a few feet in front of me and just stares at me hypnotically for at least 30 secs. They obviously don’t have any idea of personal space but I wonder if Stu went and stared at their wife would they be so tolerant. It’s OK if they smile or try and say hello but the staring just freaks me out.

There was also a small community of rats that lived amongst all this activity, one cheeky one kept darting out of a hole near me, getting some rubbish and darting back. An airforce officer befriended us and was our guardian angel, chatting and translating the announcements of train departures (which is lucky as we had no idea which train to get on otherwise as there is no display). He would like to send his daughter to school in Australia and he has a friend working in Canberra. Many Indians spend a lot of money on their children's education, some opting for abroad.

4 hours later, our train made an appearance at 1.30am. Dead on our feet from such a hive of activity we were pleasantly surprised that we didn't have to share our cabin and locked ourselves in for a sleep to arrive in Varanasi in the morning.

This is all about 20 days ago now and will hopefully catch up on the blogs when I'm not so busy :-)

Hope you are all happy and well xo