More songs about buildings and food

Wednesday, 12/12/2012 – 181 A.D.

It’s a good job Tim is doing this round the world trip with me, because I didn’t hear the alarm go off this morning. Twice. Mind you, it went off at 05:45, so who can blame me? There wasn’t time for much upon getting up, simply pulling on clothes and scraping the hair straight.

The plan was to see the Taj Mahal at sunrise, which was officially at 07:00, but we wanted to make sure we were there nice and early. It was rather strange walking down blacked-out backstreets with all of the shutters down on the shops and cows asleep at the side of the road – hardly the kind of approach worthy of such a world-renowned monument.

The West Gate (one of three) is the one they open first and there were already a few tourists. There is clear separation between foreigners and Indians, in terms of price, queuing, and route through security. It was still dark when we arrived at the queue, but unfortunately they did not open the ticket office until 06:30, as the first shades of dark blue started to mix with the blackened sky. Next we had to queue outside the gate proper and the spoilsports didn’t open that until 07:00 which was officially sunrise.

Never mind, because nothing can spoil the effect of turning the corner and coming face-to-face (albeit from a distance) with the Taj Mahal. If you don’t already know, this was constructed from 1632 - 1653 by Mughal emperor Shah Jahan as a mausoleum for his beloved wife, Mumtaz Mahal. Not sure how many he had, but she was definitely his favourite. And judging by the scale and beauty of her tomb, he must have really fancied her! 

We had our video camera temporarily confiscated soon after crossing the no-“videography” threshold, but we could still get some sneaky footage on the camera-camera. There were plenty of professional snappers around taking high quality pictures for the tourists, but we don’t need that when we’ve got Our Kid (I’m almost as good as him, if it weren’t for my shaky hands. And total lack of eye for detail). Even at this early hour, there was great demand to sit on the same bench that Diana famously draped herself across, and we were able to do an exchange shot with a couple of English lads. Or they might have been Australian – can’t really remember what English people sound like anymore.

After that historic moment we headed closer to the Taj, cursing our luck that we were an hour and a half too early to enter the museum. To enter the area of the Taj Mahal proper, you need to put shoe covers on, which are provided when you buy your ticket, along with a litre bottle of water – nice thought, but not really necessary at this time in this season. The shoe covers are easy to slip on and feel pretty funky on the floor as you take in this great building devoted to lurve. In the past we just removed our shoes before entering these sacred places, but I guess there’s such huge demand here that the staff are sick of shoes going missing, especially as there is always the odd monkey hanging around nearby.    

There was not a great deal inside the mausoleum (photos are banned), but it was at least warm – the sun not having totally risen yet, outside I’d been wishing I’d put my Genuine Fred Perry jumper on. In the centre of the room, beneath the nesting pigeons, was the coffin of the woman this whole place was designed and built for. Next to her was the coffin of the man who’d had it built. For his own resting place he’d allegedly wanted an exact copy of the TaJ Mahal constructed facing the original from the other side of the river, only built out of black marble. Unfortunately they only got as far as the foundation before his son gained power, couldn’t be bothered with all that and simply dumped his dad next to his wife.

Although we hadn’t seen the Taj Mahal go from darkness into light, nor caught the supposed orange glow that it displays when the sun is in the right position, I was glad we came out to see it so early. It really is a spectacular sight to behold and there’s a powerful aura about the place, particularly when you’re up close to the building itself.

We returned to the hotel for breakfast, which wasn’t complimentary and I chose cornflakes and French toast. The menu said two slices, but I received three. Have they heard it on the grapevine that I’m supposedly an excellent tipper? Anyway, I could barely manage two of them, given they were thick wholemeal bread. Still, it’s good to see that I have once again tackled eggs at breakfast time since my possible salmonella poisoning. Tim just had cornflakes.

So, what else is there to do in Agra if you’ve been to the Taj Mahal? There’s Fort Agra, which is another of those red forts from the Mughal period, just like the kind we saw in Delhi. This was a 15 minute stroll down the road north, though you can add on another couple of minutes for the breath you lose and subsequent slowdowns from telling passing tuk-tuk drivers that you do not need their services.

I liked Fort Agra more than Delhi’s Red Fort. It’s in a much more dramatic spot with wider moat and better defensive walls. Plus there’s a fraction of the number of people, while still being a popular tourist draw. But the main thing that has given this leg of the trip the best boost is the Indian weather in December – still absolutely bang-on. If you’re ever going to come to this country, come ye in December. It may not be very Christmassy, but you won’t get wet or burnt.

[As if you haven't seen enough shots of the Taj Mahal!]

Loads of chipmunks were hanging around the fort, plus the odd ferret. As ever, monkeys made their presence felt, and there was an amusing incident when Tim got a little too close to one of them and it darted forward and slapped him on the leg. We definitely kept our distance from then on. The best creature feature of the day though was when we peeped through an old doorway that was gated-off, but behind which was a whole colony of bats hanging from the walls. They were nowhere near the size of the fruitbats of Cairns, but hanging there silently, one or two of them twitching occasionally, they presented a creepy spectacle. I would have loved to be around at sunset when this lot flew out for the evening!

After walking back from the fort we decided to get lunch in the hotel’s restaurant, which would complete the set – dinner, breakfast, lunch – got to be a first. I had chicken chow mein, if ya care. A Chinese dish in an Indian place? Well I’m missing that MSG from the late November leg of the trip across the Orient. After that it was time to check out and tuk-tuk it all the way down to Agra Fort station to hang around for a short while before boarding our train to Jaipur. This was a far superior train to that of yesterday and today we were in “Chair Class”, which isn’t that far removed from any long distance train you’d get in the UK. Unfortunately there was a youngster sitting across from us, who fidgeted constantly, but was quiet. The only trouble he gave me was insisting on putting his feet on the table as soon as I got my netbook out. Behind us was another infant who screamed occasionally, but this wound Tim up more than me. We even got a free tray of snacks provided, though I reckon I tackled about 35% of them, not wanting to risk too much. I have eight days left before it’s roast beef and bacon sarnies all the way – I do not want another round of the Bangalore Belly!

[The obligatory shot of James and Tim having just got on the train.]

In stark contrast to yesterday, the train arrived bang on time. In email correspondence with our hotel, I’d made it very clear that we really did want twin beds this time, and not a double room. From the responses I received, it looked like the message had got through. However, today’s problem-with-hotel was the driver they sent to pick us up at the station…he wasn’t there. We walked up and down platforms 1 and 2 several times and hung around outside the Refresh Restaurant where we were inclined to believe him to be, but no one anywhere was holding a piece of paper with my name on it. After about 30 minutes we shuffled out of the station and were immediately met by a barrage of slick young guys asking us where we wanted to go. We told them someone was picking us up and that we did not require their services, although after another 10 minutes of waiting we realised that our ride wasn’t coming and we needed a tuk-tuk one way or the other.

One young lad looking far too well-dressed (and far too young) to be a tuk-tuk driver swore blind that he had said vehicle and could take us to our hotel for 50 rupees. We followed him to the dark, far end of the car park with caution as he told us how much he liked English people and that he would be honest with us from the very bottom of his heart, or some other such rubbish. He led us to a tuk-tuk that was already occupied by several young lads, laughing and joking. Their exact business in the tiny cab was obscured by the darkness, but I assumed they were either drinking or getting high off something else. “Did you not get picked up then?” one of them said from within the cab in a mocking tone. “That make me so sad for you,” said another in equally condescending fashion. “Which is your tuk-tuk?” I asked, ignoring his idiot friends, as some other tall guy looking like a warped version of Neil from The Inbetweeners appeared from out of nowehere and started speaking gibberish to us. Our so-called driver calmly said, “We wait a while,” but there was no way that was going to happen. On the way over there I’d already said to Tim that we should keep our wits about ourselves, but I’d said it in my finest Scouse accent – Tim and I always speak in Scouse when we don’t want the natives to know what we’re thinking. On this occasion we both telepathically said a great big, “Sod it!” and turned around to walk away, back to the part of the car park that was lit. Our driver came after us, imploring us to come back because of X, Y and Z, but we didn’t want X, Y or Z, just wanted to get from A to B. A minute or so later we’d found a more bonefide tuk-tuk where you book your ticket up front, much to the disappointment of our original driver. He may have lost a 50 rupee fare, but at least now he could go and get p*ssed with the rest of his mates.   

Upon arriving at the hotel the driver was hovering around the desk, claiming he had been there waiting, but hadn’t seen us. We were too tired and hungry to bother arguing and simply gave him the benefit of the doubt, though I get the feeling the manager was a little suspicious of the guy, especially when I later showed him a photo I’d taken of me and bro standing outside the rendez-vous point. But we were hungry, so we went to the hotel’s restaurant, only to find it was vegetarian! What’s the back up plan in this situation? Cheese, please!