Taj Mahal

The main square before entering the
Taj Mahal grounds.

Us in front of South Gate.

The morning after arriving to Agra we were to visit the Taj Mahal. It was high on Mark's todo list and he had been anticipating it since we made plans to come to India. I, on the other hand, was not terribly excited. I did not want to avoid it rather I just was as excited as Mark. For this trip Lala Gulaba got us a tour guide.

A squirrel - Jacob

Mark had to hand over his video
camera to authorities.

Who he found for us was a student on summer holidays from school, much like us, and who did tours of the Taj Mahal for tips that would hopefully pay for his education. He was an excellent guide, knowing where the best angle were of the Taj Mahal and also informative on the history of the great mausoleum. 

Famous picture spot for
 the Taj Mahal reflection.

A good shot of the Taj Mahal
through South Gate.

The Taj Mahal almost in Connie's eye.

As it turns out the Taj Mahal was built by a kind for his queen who gave him 14 babies, only 8 of which lived. He had planned to build a black Taj Mahal on the opposite side of the river which passed near the Taj Mahal. He would have lived there next to his dead queen.

Mark and Raj. It was like
50C that day.

Me in my footies.

One of the King's sons realized his father's plan to build the second black version and immediately imprisoned him at the Red Agra Fort, some ten kilometers away. This red fort was more of a grand palace and it had a splendid view of the Taj Mahal. The reason his son did this was to save the kingdom's resources. The Taj Mahal took 22 years to build and drained much of the kingdoms resources, and perhaps spirit. Who would live beneath a king who spent 22 years building a grave for his long dead queen? In the end the King died, I think around the age 70. 

I can see why the Taj Mahal is considered a wonder of the world. It is symmetrical no matter which way you cut it (at least vertically). It is made of marble and gems and stones from all over the world. Back then this would have been a costly feat to accomplish. The grounds are pretty too and are maintained by 200 workers every Friday.

A fully formal Indian Family on their
best behavior.

Pink shirt is our tour guide. His name
 was Raj.

It was surprising to see how few foreigners were there. Most of the people who I saw were natives who were in just as much wonder and us. I wonder what attracted them so to the massive building. I suppose in Canada we are drawn to our most beautiful features too. The Rockie mountains for instance. Is this any different?

A funny picture in theory.

Taj Mahal in Mark's eye.

We each took funny pictures that involved the Taj Mahal in some way. Like I said, our guide knew the best angle well. In the end I think we under tipped him. I think this was partly because we were so frustrated that we had been cheated in Delhi into this trip. Looking back it was an adventure I'm glad I didn't pass up.

Mark at the base of a tower.

Taj Mahal in my eye.

After the Taj Mahal we were taken to one of those pre-destined shops. It was a shop that claimed they were the family, 14 generations old, who did all the gemstone engravings on the Taj Mahal. There they showed us the factory, the process of embedding gem stones, and finally pushed their wares upon us. This was the standard procedure. Show "rich" travellers the hard work you do and beautiful wares they have and try to make you buy something. It's kind of laughable, clearly they have never heard of in-debt-student-travelling-on-a-tiny-budget. Connie and Mark got really awkward and out of their comfort zone. I encouraged them to show me their best. I love looking at beautiful things.

Marble work on Taj Mahal. Each colour
is a different stone form a different place.

Shoe covers for walking in the
mausoleum.

We left there in a rush and our adventure in Agra was at an end. Short though it was, I think we gained something from it. Emotional hardiness?

A sweet tree - For Jacob I guess.

Agra

The disgusting squatting toilet. How does one manage this
without getting stuff on their pants is beyond me.

After Delhi and the universal temple we were bound for Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. We stopped at a filthy roadside restaurant where I first encountered a squatting toilet. Up until then I had been lucky enough not to cross one's path. Perhaps I was being kept from them by our travel guide. I don't know what I was expecting for a squatting toilet but I do know I prefer sitting on a throne to them.

My personal experience is limited with these toilets as I have always been strategic in my habits. This one in particular did not call out to me as a place I'd like to dangle my hinny.

This was the first time that our driver ate with us. It was actually the first time I had seen him eat. He spends all day with us driving us places and waiting outside while we visit stores, sights, and restaurants, yet I never see him eat or drink, except for this one rare occasion.

Our drivers name was Lala Gulaba. This is a really beautiful name. It means Red Rose.

Our driver was actually a rather likable guy. We were to spend 4.5 days with him. He never complained about anything, he was not suspicious, and he helped us out in many tight spots.

He claimed to have studied mathematics of some kind at some school. I don't know what kind he studied but he didn't know the word calculus. Perhaps there are other names for these things in Hindi. He knew enough English to advise us against certain things and explain simple things. I think now, in reflection, that he saved us from many wrong turns. He also went out of his way to take us places we would otherwise never have known of. He arranged everything.

Connie under the weather during the 6h car ride
to Agra from Delhi. You lie google maps!

One annoying thing about tour guides in India is that it is their duty to take you to predetermined shops and locations. In fact, in most cases a driver will receive money for bringing a customer to their store. As a customer and tourist you can almost always say no to buying something. To that end we were often taken to places that the majority of Indians could not afford and thus if we did not ask to go to a specific place (researched on the occasional skimpy wifi connection) we would have been shown an upper class India.

When he would arrange for a guide to show us a sight it would be free of charge in technicality. It was our prerogative to tip as we saw fit. As people unaware of the value of the Rupee (but quickly learning!) we feel that we may have sometimes over tipped and under tipped.

Often times it was good to pay more money for better food and stores. It may seem conflicting to whole point of going to India (to experience the real India) but sometimes was more convenient to simply go along with the pre-planned agenda.

That even as we prepared for bed I decided to take a walk. The hotel was called Hotel Amar and it is located in a perhaps middle-good location. But no matter where one is in India you need not travel very far to see the underbelly of the city. I had brought my journal and had planned to do some writing by sunset.

Instead I got caught up in the motion of my feet and soon found myself wandering through a very secluded part of the city. There were hundreds of people everywhere. My sense of direction trembled on the brink of loss and I had to stop... and observe my surroundings. Where I found myself there were tens of eyes on me, each with a hunger for that which they imagined I had. Power, wealth, a means to survival.

A group of perhaps four teenagers streamed me by on the back of one motorcycle and one of them gestured to me in what I would imagine is the only western hand gesture they know. How could they hate me without knowing me? How could they hold such presupposed notions of who I am. It hit home, not without a sliver of terror for I was in their domain, that perhaps these people were not happy at all. They had some deep sorrow for what others had done to them.

From what I understand of Indian history, it has been fraught with war and violence, famine and suffering. Could one country, no matter how quickly they advanced now (India is a burgeoning country, where China not long past was), leave their history behind? I did not find time to write in my journal and instead made my way home at once. I had a bad vibe and trusted my feelings.