Friday 7 September 2012

The Taj

After a short and sleepless night I was awoken 15 minutes before my 5am alarm by the sound of scraping chairs above me, I got up and dressed and once again climbed the stairs to the roof terrace. This time I was greeted by the Taj in all her glory bathed in the morning twighlight, oh and a slightly surprised cleaner who was happily dragging the cast iron chairs around the roof.

Having forgotten my tiredness I was eager to get up close and personal. I wandered through the empty streets stopping of at a chai seller to perk myself up with caffeine and a bread stick. The ticket office was empty bar a few other bleary eyed tourists but judging by the snaking entry barriers this was not the norm. I entered the complex which was already buzzing with happy snappers and guide touts, I shrugged them off quite happy just to be immersed in the beauty of the Taj, ignorance is bliss indeed. Walking through the large gate I was met by the immaculate gardens and the infamous reflection pools leading to the majesty of the Taj Mahal which had now taken on a slightly pinkish tinge with the breaking of dawn. I joined the hustle and bustle of everyone trying to take the perfect shot of the scene, trying to do justice to the whole symmetry of the place (these spots were unferstandably popular and the meek had no chance!). I walked slowly towards the main building snapping whenever possible a shot that would actually try and do justice to one of the new wonders of the world.

A strict policy on footwear is adopted and whilst you are issued with blue plastic shoe covers at the entrance I just left my shoes at the racks and went barefoot. On entering I was slightly taken aback by how small it felt, and of course you are remided that this is actually a mausaleum, the two epitaphs of Shah Jahan and his wife lying side by side surrounded by a wall of lattice marble. The superior craftmanship of the tomb is undeniable, mainly of marble the closer you looked at a design the more detail you noticed. There is a series of interconnecting rooms that loop around the main chamber which take you out to the rear which over looks the large gardens over the river. After doing a couple of laps I decided to explore the two flanking buildings, one seemingly disused and the other a mosque, in a mainly Hindu country its easy to forget that it was under Muslim rule for a long time and that the Taj was built under one of the greatest Mughal emperors.

It was exploring the mosque that a bumped into the girl I had met in Jaipur whilst there was no romance or secret espionage exchanges there was a mutual benifical agreement regarding photo taken, you get to get at least a couple snaps in the infamous Diana pose (well thats if you could be bothered to fight the ever increasing numbers pouring in). We sat in the gardens for a while before my rather insubstantial breakfast got the better of me and we parted ways. The mobs had well and truely arrived now and the empty barriers when I entered were now packed with impatient Indian tour groups all ducking and diving trying to gain a few extra places in line.

I grabbed an early lunch on my roof terrace where I could see clearly the ever increasing visitors and whilst I thanked myself for raising out of bed at 5am I was soon kickick myself for the lack of forsight into how difficult it would be to escape from Agra!

Jaipur to Agra

I had a lazy start to the day after the strains, mentally more than physically, of yesterday. After rechecking my train ticket I discovered I had an extra few hours to kill before my train so I headed into the city for some last minute shopping. I had been meandering through the bazaars aimlessly when I was approached by a man asking that all too familiar question 'why do tourists hate Indians?', I told him I didn't have time and was due to catch a train, which fell on his hears with doubt. I insisted it was true but then somehow, once again, found myself on the back of a motorbike being whisked to a coffee shop en route to my hotel where we were to 'chat'. He had informed me he was working with the Indian tourist board and that all he wanted was for me to talk about my time in India. We ordered a coffee and he gave me a form to fill out asking me to name my top 5 pet peeves of India (only 5??!!). He then took a phone call which lasted for about ten minutes, I was just packing up to go when he insisted we go through the form together. At the top of my list was the differing prices for foreign tourists and nationals at various sights, he replied that this was because we were rich and they were poor, a weak and generalistic argument from a supposed member of the tourist board. He then proceeded to my fifth point, more of an expansion on my first really, that shop owners/rickshaws will instantly triple prices when they notice your Western, this seemed to please him, and in my opinion he revealled his true motive. He told me that his uncle owns a shop selling everything not 5 minutes away by bike and he became very insistent I should visit with him as he offered fair prices. Angry at falling for his scam yet eager to keep my cool in light of yesterdays incident, i simply put my share of the bill on the table, said goodbye and left. Now I really was running late for my train. I grabbed a guilty pleasure KFC and made my way hurridly back to the hotel.

I arrived sweating and slightly flustered, I met a German girl who was also catching the same train so we shared a rickshaw. On arrival the driver insisted that the fare of 100 rupees was per person, a new one to me and one which echoed point 5, we grudgingly paid running to late to argue. We parted ways as the girl headed for her first class ac compartment and I to my second class sitting sweat box but arranged to meet on the other side.

The journey passed quickly enough despite a couple of hours delay in the middle somewhere. We reunited, the girl looking refreshed and cool and me feeling dirty and sweaty, and shared a rickshaw into the Taj area of Agra. It was difficult to judge what the city was like in the darkness, the traffic being similar to the other big cities, chaotic, and all the familiar smells of over population, shit. I was dropped first and we made loose arrangements to meet at the Taj at sunrise (can't say I'll utter those words again but it felt rather romantic/like I was a spy arranging a secret drop-off, either or).

I went into the hotel to the reverbaration of raised voices coming from the reception, two americans claiming the host was a money grabber, not a good start. I waited for the situation to diffuse then approached the owner, a fat man in his 30's with a tear drop tattoo under his right eye and a constant grin on his face. He showed me to a spartan room with a window looking onto the corridor and nothing adorning the walls except dirt and mould, the bathroom was in a similar state only it smelled worse. I asked if this was the only room, which of course it was, and as it was dark, against my better judgement ,I took it.

One of the main selling points was its rooftop view of the Taj, I climbed the stairs and was met by an empty terrace and complete darkness on all sides. To my surprise they don't light up the Taj at night, so as I sat with a beer squinting to make out the dark outline of one of the most iconic buildings in the world I decided that this was to be a fleeting visit and that I should make my way to Delhi in the afternoon, how wrong I was to be.

Tuesday 4 September 2012

Jaipur Revisited

After a swift breakfast I was off for my day of sight seeing, keen to go to the Amber Fort situated a few miles out of the city my 400 rupees fare was not too bad a price (somebody quoted me that just for the return fare alone never mind a whole day). My friendly driver set off pointing out various sights along the way, then disaster struck, a puncture (really I'm surprised I hadn't encountered this incident sooner due to the state of the roads). We pulled off to one of the many roadside garages, clearly a booming buisness, and luckily enough for me it was next to a Cafe Coffee Day so I could get my Tropical Iceberg fix (kinda like a coffee/chocolate slush puppy). After maybe an hour the novelty of sitting at the garage had well and truely worn off and my driver could tell, he decided to get the use of a motorbike to run me up to the fort and drop me off and whilst I was sight seeing return after the puncture was fixed. I got on the back of the bike with him and he instantly stalled, he started it back up and then  shot it onto the wall, none of this was filling me with confidence. The owner of the bike, dismayed at its abuse, pushed my driver off and got into the seat, we sped off hanging on for life as we dodged pot holes and showed no concern for speed bumps. After 5 minutes of pure terror we arrived at the fort and i thanked my impromptu driver and set off on the steep climb up to the entrance.

The fort was impressive, as they all tended to be and as I paid the over inflated tourist rate I was treated to a complimentary headset for a guided tour and a very faded map which I was asked to return. I wanderd from station to station being informed, in a very dramatic manner, of the history of the various buildings and statues. My map soon failed me and I found myself in what felt like a lesser visited part of the palace, I saw an unfriendly guard descend a flight of stairs and exit from where I had entered. I wandered up the winding staircase reached what felt like was a never visited part of the palace, then, just as I was going to about turn I heard the metal gate at the bottom of the stairs close and a jangle of keys, great. I rushed down the stairs but it was too late, I was locked in. I went back up and reached a bat filled room with another small staircase leading down, I eventually, after a bit of panic, got to what looked like a familiar part, except this time I was on the other side of the velvet rope. Jumping over un-noticed I decided I should probably leave as I had been promised many other sights by my driver. I soon discovered a flaw in the audio guide office position, I exited into the main courtyard and once again had to queue to gain entry to the palace to return my headset, which I did on the assurance I could exit this way once I had returned my guide and map...wrong. On my return the guard simply pointed at the no exit sign, after miming that I had just went to return my auido guide, no simple task, I was once again motioned to the no exit sign. I was left with no choice but to retour the whole fort, well minus the bat cave, before making my way back down the hill to my eagerly awaiting driver.

After he explained he had almost given up hope and I explained my adventures he told me I was now off to the old city to see how the famous 'block printed' fabric was made, I was intregued. I needn't have been. It was in actual fact a commission based shop which had a few lacklustre fabric hangings and one set of elephant printing blocks which a young child demonstrated, not exactly making me put my hand in my pocket. I was then shown up to the real buisness, a room filled with cloth and a tailoring section. I chatted to the owner for a while and then explained that I had no intention of buying and that even if I was to have shirts made why would I come with a rickshaw driver who is skimming a large chunk of commission. He admitted defeat in the end and I left, my driver looking a little sad that I hadn't bought anything...yet. We set off now in the direction of a silver smith, where I was to be shown workers setting the famous Jaipur gems into rings etc. Unsurprisingly this was again to be another show room, and with no intention of buying I refused the cup of chai and hence skipping the sales pitch and we left. I don't know why but I found myself apologising to my driver for the lack of my purchasing and in turn his lack of commission even though I felt no such guilt.

The second to last stop was an unknown temple, despite the minimal fee my driver insisted I just climb the large set of stairs next to it where I could peer in for free, which I did. As I, slowly, made my way up the stairs I was besieged by children begging, I gave them what remained of my stash of chocolate eclairs (a cheaper and more effective way of dispersing a group of kids, also means it doesn't line the pockets of a beggar pimp). On my way back down I saw my driver whizzing about on a moped, this was supposedly for my benefit, he seemed determined to show me that he could drive on two wheels.

Finally, and not a moment too soon we were on our way home, alas there was to be one final stop en route, his very good friends shop (this one wasnt even disguised as something else). I was greeted warmly and shown a seat surrounded by everything from pillow cases to pashminas. I once again insisted that I had no intention of buying anything which the owner seemed to take offence as if I was implying that he wanted to sell me things, I could tell this was going to be a much harder sell. He started off telling me my fortune, very good apparently, then informed me that the gap in my teeth meant I was to be very rich one day. On chatting about Scotland I mentioned that my hometown was famous for its mills and cashmere was big buisness there. Well this sent his into a frenzy, soon I was being shown every different type of shawl he had and then I was to be tested. He wanted me to pick out the cashmere scarf out of the twenty or so he had given me, reluctant to entertain him I eventually picked out the softest one I could find. He relished in the fact I was wrong and bellowed that this was actually an illegal type of hair and that I knew nothing, a funny sales pitch. Well that was it, I had had enough, and wether it was just a culmination of the days events or that other things were playing heavy on my mind I erupted in a manner that I only exhibit on the rarest, and most stressful, of occassions. My driver who had been sitting silently sprung to his feet and tried to diffuse the situation, maybe still hopeful for a sale, the owner clearly was, as I slung insults at him he retorted with the various prices of the scarves only ceasing when I was back in the rickshaw.

It was a silent journey back to the hotel, the driver coming to terms with the fact it had been a fruitless day and he had blown any chance for a tip, which he had. I handed over the pre arranged fare for the day, it looked like he went to speak but stopped himself, probably about to insist on a little extra and, rightfully, thinking better of it. I did him the courtesy of not reporting him to reception and retreated to the sanctity of my room. I had my train to Agra in the morning and the thought he being  immersed in the beauty of the Taj within 24hrs put me in a better frame of mind, little did I know that the Taj was truely to be a diamond in the rough.

Leaving Ranthambore

Post birthday celebrations included a day lounging by the pool with the fellow birthday revallers and doing as little as possible, I joined them for lunch and I watched their faces as we were served by running naan man, the novelty having worn off on me but not my companions.

The only slight inturruption in my day of nothing was the overly attentive staff phoning me enquiring if I would like another safari. I relented in the end and, on the condition I could keep the room till my intentionally late departure, was booked onto a 6am tour.

I awoke bleary eyed and stumbled to reception joining the other early risers indulging in the free coffee and pastries provided. Soon enough I was picked up and got into the jeep with 2 Italians a loud Australian and a Scottish couple from Glasgow. At the park we were allocated zone 4, pleased not to be assigned zone 1 I felt good about this safari...I shouldn't have. Again the tigers were nowhere to be seen and despite notification of a sighting and a whacky races style rumble through the jungle with 5 or 6 other jeeps we were again denied even a glimpse of our elusive stripy friend. It wasn't a complete disappointment, again the company was good and this zone did included one of the largest lakes in the park which at daybreak was a hive of activity with everything from monkeys to wild boar sharing the communal watering hole.

I returned a little disheartened and drowned my sorrows in the breakfast buffet before retreating to my cool box (I ramped it back up to 18°C, tropical compared to the day before). Making use of the pool for the last time I realised this was probably going to be the last time I was to have this indulgence for a long time, my future intinerary taking me to Agra, Delhi then up into the hill stations of the North, this justified an extra hour or so by the pool.

After packing and dragging myself away from my haven I headed for reception where I was met by the owner, he insisted on me joining him for coffee and I accepted on the prior arrangement that if he made me miss my train I would get a free nights stay. I was on time. His driver that took me to the station saw to that, what took 20 minutes there was covered in about 10 and as we pulled in, through a no entry section, right to the door of the station I just got out without uttering a word to Evil Kenevil next to me.

I got onto the train and ousted the free loader who occupied my seat and had a rather subdued journey back to Jaipur. I was booked into the same hotel and once again I was bundled into the Pussy Wagon and once again, I was subjected to the hard sell for the guided tour, only this time I accepted...