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Category Archives: India
India day 13 – Ajmer to Pushkar, Rajasthan
Pushkar is 30 minutes drive from < ?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /?>
Ajmer, but the hotel wants 500 rupees to arrange a taxi to take us there. We already know that the going rate is 250 rupees since that’s what we were quoted at the station when we arrived in Ajmer yesterday. It’s also the price quoted on the website of the hotel in Pushkar where we will be staying. We’ll try our luck at the station taxi rank. < ?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /?>
First though we intend to get some breakfast and visit the Dargar Masjid. We have breakfast in the Madeena Hotel opposite the station. Another Lonely Planet recommendation which turns out to be nothing as grand as a hotel, but a basic cafe popular with locals and charging local prices and specialising in a very thin, cooked –to-order roti. It’s dirt cheap, dirt being the important word; cleanliness not being a high priority and there are flies everywhere. The washing up is done on the floor in a filthy alcove that can’t have been cleaned for many a year. But, it’s recommended in Lonely Planet so it can’t be all bad – assuming of course they have ever sent someone to visit it. The kitchen is open plan so at least we can see watch our meal being prepared and what we get is quite good and we survive the experience.
We get a pedal rickshaw to the Dargar rather than walk and it’s a good decision. The mosque is situated in the midst of the old city and involves negotiating a maze of narrow twisting alleys and bazaars. There is no way we would have found our way on foot, even with a map. The alleys are heaving with people and amongst them a boy is herding a group of donkeys laden with bricks. Some yards from the Mosque we have to dismount and walk the rest of the way as the alley becomes too narrow even for the pedal rickshaw. Our rickshaw wallah takes it upon himself to act as our guide and accompanies us round the mosque. He speaks hardly any English but we get the general gist of the etiquette – where to leave our shoes, no cameras allowed and so on. As we enter the mosque we become the subject of some excited discussion in Hindi which we can’t understand but which seems to be about the rickshaw wallah and who is going to guide us round. The upshot of which is that we acquire another self-appointed companion with a little more English; so we now have two people accompanying us.
The Dargar Masjid is one of the most important pilgrimage sites in India and the number of worshippers in the outer courtyard is overwhelming. It has the feel of a bazaar buzzing with activity and colour. There are dozens of stalls selling trays of rose petals, incense, religious trinkets, food, offerings and such like. People are milling around, sitting or lying on the floor chatting, playing music or just passing the time. The scene is one of vivid fluttering saris, red petals strewn on the floor and air redolent with their sweet scent. It’s like stepping into another world, a cleaner world of cool marble and fascinating sights and sounds.
The Dargah is the site of the tomb of the sufi saint Khwaja Muin-ud-din-Chishti and Muslims come here to pay their respects and to shower rose petals on the tomb. The tiny, highy decorated mausoleum is hung with a deep blue and gold canopy and what space there is around the tomb itself is crammed to bursting with people shuffling round, pushing and shoving as they squeeze their way in bearing wicker trays of petals above their heads. We let the crowd bear us along until we emerge through the exit on the other side of the tomb having been blessed by an imam on the way. In another part of the mosque are two vast cauldrons, known as degs, for offering for the poor.
Built by Shah Jahan, the open-sided, white marble prayer hall faces an inner courtyard and has an ornately decorated alcove pointing to Mecca. It is a haven of peace from the hubbub in the rest of the mosque.
The Dargah has nine entrances and our guides lead us out still barefoot through another of these and into the heaving bazaar to see the ruins of Adhai –din-ka-Jhonpra, that was reputedly built in two-and-half days in 1153. Originally built as a Sanskrit college using the remains of Hindu and Jain temples, it was later converted into a mosque by the addition of a seven arched facade carved with Arabic script. It’s a rather grand structure with its carved pillars and towering arches. Tossing a coin into a nook in the alcove inside the mosque is said to bring good luck, but seems more like a money making scheme as two boys change notes for coins and then collect all the coins that fall to the floor.
After collecting our shoes and our camera, the latter left with a local shopkeeper outside the Dargar, our guides take us to view a gigantic ‘well’ which turns out to be a cavernous cistern in the centre of the old town where monsoon rain water is collected. As we walk back through the bazaar with its myriad stalls selling everything from glittering bangles to Indian sweets, we gather a train of young children and mothers with babies all wanting a few rupees and as we hand out a coins more children appear, constantly prodding and tapping our arms, tugging our clothes and repetitively pleading for money. This is behaviour reserved solely for tourists; Indians are rarely bothered in this way and if they are they give short shrift.
We pay our self-appoint guide and take the rickshaw back to the railway station, stopping on the way to get a flat tyre pumped up. We offer the rickshaw wallah 100 rupees – considerably more than the original fare, but he cheekily demands double. He’s trying his luck and when we give him 150 he goes away with a big grin on his face. At the station we pick up a taxi to Pushkar for 200 rupees and after picking up our luggage from the hotel we leave Ajmer and head for the hills. Arriving in Pushkar there is a 15 rp entry tax for car and passengers.
Pushkar is a small town of some 40,000; more of a village than a town really and easily manageable on foot. There is almost a complete absence of traffic, only the occasional moped, handcart or pedal rickshaw; but mostly it’s only cows and people that make their way along the narrow streets. The relative peace and quiet is a welcome relief from the normal chaos of Indian towns and cities. Brahma was born in Pushkar and it is a holy place where pilgrims come to worship at one of the many temples (of which there are 1,000 apparently) and to bathe in Pushkar Lake. It is also where Ghandhi’s ashes are scattered. The focal point is the lake in the centre of town with its 52 ghats – the steps which lead down to the lake for bathing. Inevitably it’s heavily geared to tourists, although not unpleasantly so; there are 400 hotels inconspicuously tucked away in the old buildings and the bazaars that line the streets behind the ghats are a shopper’s paradise, selling local textiles, clothes, shoes, jewellery and other handicrafts. It’s relatively clean too, and people seem to make an effort to sweep the dusty streets. Much of the streets are unpaved or partly paved and it’s necessary to pick you way through squelchy mud when it rains.
The hotel turns out to be a real find and aptly named ‘Inn Seventh Heaven’. It is a delightfully restored haveli, or traditional old house, with a central courtyard complete with fountain overlooked by two galleries which give access to the rooms on the upper floors. Marble floors, original doors, (unglazed) windows and lots of other original features all add to its charm. Our room opens off the first floor gallery and overlooks the dirt street at the front. It’s traditionally furnished and has a huge king-size bed. This is one that Lonely Planet got spot on. There is a restaurant in the courtyard as well as a shop selling good quality, ethically produced clothes, bags, pashminas, bedspreads and cushion covers. I could be tempted!
The weather seems much cooler here, which is a relief from the heat of the bigger cities. There’s a little rain in the afternoon so we don’t venture out until around 4pm. The streets may not have much traffic but there are plenty of cows wandering everywhere and children trailing westerners begging for food. Sad to say, we’ve quickly become hardened to the beggars who are an almost continual presence and often continue to follow us around even after we’ve given them money. We walk down onto the ghats to look at the lake only to discover that it is almost empty and well below the level of the steps. Normally the monsoon rains would have filled the lake by this time of year, but because the rains are late the bed of the lake is exposed and the whole area looks rather forlorn. It’s made even less attractive by the partial dredging of bottom of the lake which has left it looking a bit like a mud quarry. All of which means the view from the ghats is rather disappointing. There are cows wandering on the ghats and are likely to gently head butt you if you don’t get out of their way, as Andy discovers whilst stood with an Indian who has approached us for a chat.
Being a holy place there are rules about acceptable dress which includes no exposed legs, shoulders or cleavage – although it’s OK to bear your midriff if you wear a sari. Some Westerners don’t seem to bother, either unaware and uncaring and the shops, rather confusingly, sell revealing clothes. Much to Andy’s chagrin Pushkar is meat, egg, fish and alcohol free. So for the duration of our stay Andy, who as anyone who knows him will be aware doesn’t dislikes vegetables with a passion , is on a vegetarian diet. Imagine that!
India day 12 – Jaipur to Ajmer
The two hour train journey from Jaipur to < ?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /?>
Ajmer gives us our first real look at the countryside of Rajasthan, the state that borders Pakistan to the west and the Punjab to the north. It’s not lush or tropical as might be expected, but arid and scrubby with stunted trees and ploughed fields which seem to be mostly in between crops. The landscape is mostly flat with a few hills in the distance. Ajmer has a population about a fifth that of Jaipur and is a much more manageable place; nothing like as busy nor quite a dirty or smelly and we feel able to walk around it with some degree of comfort. This is just a 24-hour stopover on the way to Pushkar, which is plenty of time to see the main sights. The hotel, found through Lonely Planet, is just about acceptable for one night, but it would be a whole lot better if the sheets weren’t stained, but at least it’s quiet.
Finding good accommodation in India is proving a little more difficult than in other places we’ve visited. Lonely Planet isn’t reliable and independent reviews posted on sites travel sites like Trip Advisor, Asia Rooms and the like, are few. So getting good accommodation is a bit of a hit and miss affair. Lonely Planet may issue new editions of their guides every year, but even a cursory comparison reveals that often the information hasn’t been updated. For instance they don’t change the room rates from one year to the next. And we’ve come across several instances where the information is inaccurate you have to wonder if anyone has visited some of the destinations recently.
We take a stroll to visit the Jain Red Temple (Nasiyan Temple) and the Ana Sagar Temple, both of which are not too far from the hotel. The Jain Temple is quite amazing. A large two storey high hall is filled with golden models depicting the rather eccentric Jain concept of the ancient world as a flat disc with 13 continents and oceans depicted as concentric circles around a central holy mountain. Alongside the world-as-a-disc model is the golden city of Ajodhya over which hovers flying swan and flying elephant gondolas. The gaudily ornate hall and its contents can be viewed from galleries on two levels which run round three sides of the hall.
The Ana Sagar is a large lake on the banks of the pleasant (for India) Dault Bagh and Subash Bagh parks which today are crowded with people. Overlooking the lake is a lovely marble terrace with three pavilions build by Shah Jahan under which many people are seated to escape from the heat of the sun. The lake itself is smelly and a rather foul green colour, but this doesn’t seem to deter many people from taking a pedalo or boat ride on it. As we meander through the park we are approached by several people who want to have their photograph taken with us. As soon as one person asks for a photo others pluck up courage to follow suit. We must have posed for 20 or more photos in the short walk from the lake to the park exit. It brings home just what a novelty Europeans are in this part of the world.
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India day 11 – Jaipur, Rajasthan
Our adopted rickshaw wallah, Muktar, is waiting for us this morning and we drive out to Jaigarh Fort which sits on the hilltop above Amber. This huge and austere fortress has commanding views of the surrounding area towards Jaipur and the < ?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /?>
Water Palace in one direction and over the hills around Amber to the vast plains that stretch out into the distance beyond. As we stand looking down on the palace buildings of Amber and admiring the vista we can see the monsoon rain clouds rolling towards us. We are in for a downpour. We acquire an unsolicited ‘guide’ (who is actually a uniformed palace guard) as we make our way round, which is fortunate since the palace quarters are a maze of courtyards linked by dark, narrow corridors and we would never have seen everything on our own. Andy chunters all the way round as a result; he hates having people latching on uninvited and having to pay for the privilege, even if it is only a few rupees. There is a little puppet theatre consisting of a puppeteer and a musician who put on, for a donation, a very short, but amusing performance involving four puppets – a belly dancer, two acrobats and a snake charmer – the whole thing can’t have lasted more than three or four minutes. We trot round what by now is starting to become a familiar Moghul palace layout – some prettily decorated buildings not quite as impressive as some we have seen. There is a beautiful formal courtyard garden with fountains (not working) though with two tall arches framing the mountain view beyond. Once through the palace buildings our unofficial ‘guide’ expects a tip despite the signs about the place stating that tipping is not allowed and after paying him a small sum we make our way to look at the Jaya Vana, the world’s largest wheeled cannon, which also has the distinction of never having been fired in anger. It is certainly enormous. Another man tries to insinuate himself as our guide to reel off information that is openly on displayed alongside the cannon. We give him short shrift.
The monsoon clouds we spied earlier have caught up with us and we, and several other people. are forced to take shelter under an arched gateway. It’s only a short downpour but there seems to be an amazing amount of run off as a result and when we get back to Jaipur there is quite a bit of localised flooding. Interestingly, Indians don’t seem to bother with rain capes or umbrellas; they either brave the rain or take shelter and wait for it to pass.
We have rather miscalculated our itinerary not realising that most monuments close at 4.30pm and it is already 3.30pm when we find a restaurant to have lunch. So we have to forgo the Hawah Mahal (Palace of the Winds) and the Temple of the Sun God and instead decide to visit the jewellery bazaar after lunch. At least that is the intention, but Muktar has other ideas. The bazaars are not a good place to buy jewellery apparently; he knows somewhere that is much better value and takes us to a small shop up some back alley that we would never have found in a thousand years if left to our own devices. We cynically, and perhaps somewhat uncharitably, assume that it is somewhere he gets commission. It turns out to be a good place though after a little haggling we return to the hotel with two bracelets (for me) and a ring (for Andy).
India day 10 – Jaipur, Rajasthan
No more walking for us, at least not while we are in Jaipur. Jaipur is much better viewed from the back of an auto-rickshaw – far less tiring and it doesn’t seem quite so filthy. So we hire Muktar Hussein and his rickshaw at 400 rupees (£5) for about five hours. On our agenda are the famed < ?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /?>
Pink City, City Palace and Amber.
The Pink City is surrounded by a crenulated wall which was painted pink in 1876 by Maharaja Ram Singh in honour of a visit by the then Prince of Wales. Originally build in 1727 by Jai Singh II it follows a grid layout with wide intersecting boulevards cutting swathes through the city dividing it into nine artisanal areas. There are 100s of shops in the vibrant bazaars that line the boulevards; all painted pink and carrying black Hindi script on their fascias which gives the old city a very uniform appearance. It’s teeming with people and the traffic is horrendous – the usual mayhem of rickshaws, mopeds, cycles, horse and carts and cows all vying for position as they weave in and out of any available space.
In the heart of the Pink City is City Palace, the official residence of the current Maharaja and home to the Maharaja Sawai Man Singh II Museum. Like much of the old city it is painted pink with contrasting white highlights. It is a vast complex of beautifully preserved buildings and courtyards, fabulously decorated ceilings and delicate frescos. Entering through the Virendra Pol the first building to greet you is the lovely Mubarak Mahal (Welcome Palace) a blend of Rajasthani, Moghul and British architecture which was designated the world’s most beautiful building of the twentieth century by some august body, the name of which I forget. An armoury is housed in the former quarters of the Maharani, a grand building with the sumptiously decorated ceilings. The Diwan-i-Khas is a cool, open-sided marble pavilion which houses two enormous matching silver vessels that are in the Guiness Book of Records as the largest in the world. A group of women in vibrant, richly decorated saris sit amongst the pillars applying intricate henna patterns to each other’s hands. In the Pitnam Niwas Chowk courtyard four ornately painted gates represent spring, summer, autumn and monsoon. Two have been lovingly restored and a third is work-in-progress. There are several shops around the palace selling clothes, trinkets, souvenirs and jewellery and we have been advised by our driver that they are over-priced, no doubt to discourage us from making any purchases before he has a chance to take us to some factory shop where he will earn a commission.
We lunch at Ganesh, a tiny restaurant situated on top of the city wall which, despite the suspect interior, serves really tasty food. We take a short stroll along Bapu Bazaar which specialises in clothes and shoes, but with shopkeepers continually hassling us (Indian shoppers don’t get the same treatment) it’s impossible to browse in peace. So we retreat back to the rickshaw and head off to the Amber Fort.
Amber is situated in green hills about 11 km outside Jaipur. Part fort, part palace, it’s faded pink walls loom high above us sitting on a rugged outcrop and it’s quite a climb to the entrance particularly in the heat. The outer fortifications which encircle this fortress palace and the town that nestles under its walls, hug the contours of the surrounding hills. Once the ancient capital of Jaipur state, it is in remarkably good condition considering it dates back to 1592. Built by Maharaja Man Singh and later extended, it is a labyrinthine palace with some striking buildings: the sandstone and marble Diwan-i-Am pavilion which remarkably wasn’t sacked by the invading Moghuls; the small and intricately carved marble Sila temple; the exquisite Ganesh Pol (gate) decorate with a delicate floral mural looking as fresh as the day it was first painted (almost); the oh-so-over-the-top Jai Mundir with its mirror-encrusted facade and opposite across a formal courtyard garden the Sukh Niwas (Hall of Pleasure). The buildings of the women’s harem, by contrast, seem rather plain and uninspiring.
As anticipated Muktar’s suggests we might like to visit a textile factory shop specialising in block printed fabrics and since he will earn a commission for taking us, we agree to go along. After all we might see something we like. But after looking at several bedspreads and wall hangings of rather indifferent quality we extricate ourselves and return to the hotel.
India day 9 – Jaipur, Rajasthan
The Hotel Karni Niwas is a tidy place but a tad impersonal. Our room is one of several off a long first floor terrace which overlooks a pleasant garden that none seems to use and which is spoilt only by an obligatory pile of rubbish in one corner – builders’ rubble fortunately; only an eyesore and not a health hazard. There is no dining room, but amazingly there is room service and breakfast – and dinner too if you want it – is served on the terrace outside our room. Importantly it’s quiet, a big plus in this country. There is even hot water, but it’s difficult to distinguish it from the cold, the temperature of both is more or less the same. But who needs hot water in this heat? There are some monkeys on a flat roof opposite finding the flies just as irritating as we do.
We go for a walk to orientate ourselves with the intention of visiting the < ?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /?>
Pink City. What a mistake! We manage to get completely lost – no street signs make map reading a nightmare. India cities are not for exploring on foot; pavements exist not for walking on, but for sleeping, sitting and parking and using as a toilet. Any pavement that is available for walking on is usually broken, filthy or covered in rubbish or piles of rubble. Indian is definitely best experienced from inside a rickshaw or even better, an air conditioned car.
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India day 8 – Agra to Jaipur, Rajasthan
When we emerge this morning, stragglers from last night’s festivities are still on the streets looking very sore footed and exhausted as they hobble home. We haven’t been able to discover the name of the festival but apparently it takes place over four Sundays in July and involves men (women don’t take part), mainly young men it seems, walking in bare feet for around 15 hours as they visit the temples of the city. It’s no wonder that this morning they are treading lightly!
We sort a few bits and pieces, pack our stuff and go for lunch. Our train leaves < ?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /?>
Agra at 17.40 and we arrive by rickshaw in plenty of time. Surprisingly there are no porters in sight and we have to carry our luggage. The station is heaving with people and there don’t seem to be any platform numbers. It requires some guesswork and a few enquiries to work out where we should be and which train is going to Jaipur; there are no destination indicators, the train number isn’t on the train and the name of the train – the only other identification – has been abbreviated on the side of the train. On the next platform the second class carriages are full to capacity and people are hanging out of the doors as it pulls away and people are running alongside in an effort to either push others into the carriages or an attempt to do the seemingly impossible and get aboard.
The journey through the outskirts of Agra reveals people living in some appallingly squalid conditions along the railway line – amongst rubbish and building material. People routinely walk along the tracks and children play on the edge of the tracks.
All the stations are in darkness apart from dim lighting around the exit and there seems to be a shortage of station signs which makes it very difficult to know when to get off the train. But we needn’t have worried, almost everyone gets off the train at Jaipur even though its going on to Udaipur. As soon as we are out of station we are surrounded by gabbling rickshaw drivers wanting to know where we are going. It’s impossible to shake them off even when we try to make ourselves heard above the din. Fortunately we are rescued by our pick up and whisked off to Hotel Karni Niwas which turns out to be situated in an unpaved and potholed side street. The room’s not bad though; large with two small balconies, marble floors and clean .
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India day 7 – Agra
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India takes some getting used to and that is a gross understatement. Invariably four experiences assault you when you step outside the confines of your hotel: a wave of intense heat magnified by the fact that you have just stepped out of air conditioned comfort; a barrage of noise; rickshaw drivers touting for business; and children either begging or trying to sell some cheap tat. There is no avoiding them and today is no different. Occasionally the sense is assailed by an unpleasant stench as well. This is India! It’s the dirtiest place we have visited by far – rubbish and litter everywhere and no-one seems the least concerned about it. In fact, people seem to live on top of accumulated rubbish. And God knows how awful it must be when the monsoon arrives. We’ve come to the conclusion that Indians are so used to the state of their cities that they no longer notice the squalor. < ?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /?>
Hero, the rickshaw wallah who has adopted us, is waiting outside, even though we arranged to for him to meet us much later in the morning . No doubt he doesn’t want anyone else stepping into his shoes and snaffling his two lucrative Europeans! First, though, we are off to the internet cafe a few doors away in an unpaved alley. It’s in a very cramped and dingy kiosk which manages to squeeze in three terminals and a couple of plastic chairs. Our next job is to get some cash, but after visiting several ATMs we draw the conclusion that none are working today. It’s the eve of a festival and Hero thinks that may accounts be the reason. It is certainly accounts for the huge banks of 6ft-plus loudspeakers and rows of loudhailers at intervals along the roads which belt out Indian music at a decibel level high enough to make the chest vibrate and the ears ring.
Hero has arranged for a car to take us to Fatehpur Sikri this afternoon and we set off at about midday. A couple of hours earlier than planned, but you soon discover that you never quite get what you ask for in India. A good toll road links Agra and Fatehpur Sikri, but today there is some kind of hold up so we take a detour along unmade rutted roads through a small village were the accommodation ranges from rough built brick one room houses to mud huts and the occasional smarter gated bungalow. The latter seems rather incongruous amongst the surrounding poverty. Cows, pigs and goats roam freely and children run around either naked or bare bottomed. A naked child stands outside the gates of one of the more presentable homes relieving himself on the driveway. It’s a busy, lively community, the women are dressed in colourful, floaty saris and people wave and call out to us as we bump by.
Fatehpur Sikri was for a brief period, the capital city of the Moghul Empir during the reign of Akbar. Built on the site where the sufi , Shaik Salim Chisti, predicted that Akbar would produce an heir, the fortified city was abandoned after only 14 years due to shortage of water. It is a remarkably well-preserved complex and we are taken round it by an official guide. We usually rely on the not-so-trusty Lonely Planet to keep us informed because, although a guide may provide more reliable and comprehensive information , they tend to rush round and we prefer to go out our own pace. But on this occasion we have taken the advice of LP and taken an official guide thereby hoping to avoid being constantly hassled by unofficial guides, hawkers and beggars. On balance not the best choice because we get a fast-forwarded tour with a lot of repetitive information. Ah well, you live and you learn.
The site is in two parts – the government-run palace buildings and the trust-run Jama Masjid mosque. The latter is still very much in use and is full of noise and colour whereas the palace grounds are quiet and sedate. The palace is a jumble of interlinking courtyards, gardens, pavilions and residences some built of red sandstone by Akbar and others of marble, the later additions of Shah Jahan. There are some wonderful examples of intricate carving much of which looks as sharp now as when it was originally carved and combines Christian, Muslim, Jain and Hindu traditions. The unusual Diwani-i-Khas appears to be a conventional two-storey building from the outside, but the surprising interior is dominated by a central ornately carved from a single piece of stone which broadens into a central plinth linked to the four corners of a surrounding gallery by narrow stone bridges where Akbar held private audiences.
The mosque is humming with people who have come to pay their respects at the tomb the sufi, Shiekh Salim Chisti and probably quite a few who have come just for a day out . The tomb dominates the small mausoleum which is decorated with oil murals and has a canopy covered with mother-of-pearl. Our guide introduces us to a holy man who wants us to give a charitable donation of 2000 rupees so hat we can lay a silk sari and flowers over the tomb – apparently a traditional form of respect, which we suspect is primarily designed to part tourists from their money. The price falls dramatically to 200 rupees when we walk away! The mosque faces a huge courtyard with a colonnaded arcade on three sides and what is reputed to be the largest gateway in Asia. There is an also an underground tunnel leading from the behind the sufi’s tomb which is said to link Fatehpur Sikri with Agra some 45 km away.
When we arrive back at the hotel the festival is starting to liven up and unfortunately there are a bank of speakers in the street right outside our bedroom window. The noise is deafening and the hotel predict that it will continue until midnight or later. So we escape to a quiet restaurant for some respite. On our return the road is closed and the streets are full of exuberant and excitable young men chanting and dancing. We walk along with the crowd for a while and people want to shake hands and have their photograph taken. It’s exhilarating and slightly unnerving at the same time. When the partying stopped we have no idea because somehow we managed to get to sleep despite the deafening din.
India day 6 – Agra
Another early start today; we are up at < ?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /?>
5.30 am in order to get to the Taj Mahal for opening time at 6am. Fortunately the hotel is only 10 minutes walk from the Taj through a pleasant park. This is the best time of day to visit, before it gets too hot and is over-run by the tour groups that start to arrive around 9am. < ?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /?>
This is what we came to Agra to see and it doesn’t disappoint. The Taj Mahal is every bit as beautiful as the hype and the pictures depict. Built on a raised platform so that it has only the sky as backdrop it looks so serene. Perfectly symmetrical with four minarets leaning slightly outwards, apparently, according to one theory, to protect the mausoleum in the event of an earthquake, and intricately decorated with pietra dura – it is the most stunningly gorgeous of buildings. And it looks almost as perfect as when it was built. What more can one say about one of the world’s most iconic buildings?
By the time we leave the grounds are starting to get crowded – it must be a nightmare later in the day. We are back at the hotel in time for breakfast and our two rickshaw drivers are waiting for us when we emerge around 10 am.
First stop is the Jamu Mosque with it’s horizontally striped sandstone and marble domes. Getting there involves negotiating the horrendously busy market area of old Agra. And that is an experience in itself! Entry is free, but everyone wants baksheesh – the shoe wallah, the man who provides the modesty sarong for Andy, the man who shows us the inside of the mosque, the man who tells us we can take photographs, as well as a boy who does nothing but be there! Although smaller, the mosque is similar in layout to the Jama mosque in Delhi. There are no socks on offer this time though. Instead a rather dirty and disintegrating runner soaked with water is laid across the courtyard in various directions to protect bare feet from the intense heat of the paving stones.
For lunch our rickshaw drivers take us to the Green Garden Restaurant, a quiet spot with a large lawned garden and a parachute for shade. A real oasis of peace and quiet in the middle of Agra as well as good, cheap food.
After lunch we willingly allow ourselves to be ferried around the local artisan shops, all of which give drivers commission and also pay them a percentage of any sale. Along the way there a herd of black oxen are being herded through the traffic and every so often we spot a monkey. We visit a jewellers, a leather shop, marble factory (interesting to see how pietra dura inlaying is created – such painstakingly detailed craftmanship), clothes shops and a carpet shop, where we have a demonstration of the carpet making process and where I fall in love with, and purchase, two rugs which will be shipped back to the UK to arrive just after we get back – I hope!
India day 5 – Delhi to Agra
It’s an early start this morning to catch the < ?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /?>
6.15 am train to Jaipur. At this time in the morning Delhi is largely traffic free and, unusually quiet. People are sleeping on the pavements; some on the floor, others on simple cots. One large traffic island is completely crowded with sleeping bodies. There is a cow alongside the central reservation, completely unperturbed by the traffic. < ?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /?>
The station is busy and chaotic when we arrive and we have had to pay the driver before we get to the station because he isn’t an official taxi and should apparently not be dropping off fare paying passengers. A porter is immediately on our case as soon as we get out of the car and unbelievably carries both our rucksacks, weighing around 30 kilos, on his head!
India has a very efficient on-line booking system for train tickets and once registered it is possible to book 10 rails journeys per month via the internet. It’s quite straightforward, if a little long-winded and it seems to work. There are some 5or 6 categories of seat from 1st class air conditioned sleepers to second class chairs. The latter being the cheapest class and the one used by most Indians. Sleepers and first and second class air con chairs have to be reserved in advance and it’s not possible to buy tickets for same day travel. Some of the routes, particularly the long-distance ones get booked up weeks in advance and the rail network is so busy that there is at tiered waiting list system for cancelled tickets. We had originally intended to go from Delhi to Varanasi overnight, but it was fully booked and would have meant spending another week in Delhi. So instead we have decided to go to Agra and then on to Rajasthan and perhaps we may get to Varanasi later.
The 2nd class air conditioned carriage is quite orderly and comfortable and amazingly given the price, ticket includes a reasonable breakfast served at your seat like an airline meal. It’s just over two hours to Agra and we arrive at 8.30am. We have to fend off numerous rickshaw drivers whilst we wait for the hotel pick up to arrive, which he does after a few minutes and once we have negotiated the heavy traffic around the station the route to the hotel is along wide, reasonably tidy and quiet streets. But by the time we reach our hotel the character of the place has changed. There are few cars in Agra but the streets are congested with other types of transport – pedal and auto-rickshaws, horse drawn carts and carriages, hand carts, donkeys, cows, camel carts, mopeds and bicycles – and it’s noisy, very noisy. Like Delhi those that have a horn like to use it … frequently.
The Maya Hotel and Restaurant isn’t geared up for early arrivals and we have to wait until 10.30 before we can register and get into our room. Registration is an interesting example of Indian bureaucracy – a register has to be completed with all manner of information about our passports, visas, how long we are staying in India, where we’ve travelled from and where we are going to, address, etc, etc. Then the same information has to be transferred onto a three-part duplicated form. Eventually formalities completed we can get into our room. The hotel doesn’t quite live up to the puff on it’s website – it could hardly be described as ‘magical’, but it does have a huge marble bed, a television (always a mixed blessing), a shower with hot and cold water (although it’s difficult to tell which is which from the temperature of the water) and a rather scruffy balcony.
Stepping out of the hotel onto the street invites unwelcome attention from several hawkers, beggars and rickshaw drivers all eager to part you from your money. We are swiftly adopted by a rickshaw driver who 20 rupees will take us to a restaurant we have identified in Lonely Planet . He is still waiting for us when we emerge about an hour later and before we know it we have Hero for the rest of the day and as it turns out, for the rest of our stay in Agra. Somewhere between Agra Fort and the Baby Taj, his friend, Salim, is co-opted to help out and we have two drivers – for the same price, naturally. But Hero is a wily old bird, he’s letting us decide how much we want to pay him, knowing full well we suspect, that we will pay him well over the going rate (which is so low as to be embarrassing). Also as the day progresses it becomes apparent that he will supplement any income he gets from us, with commission he picks up along the way from restaurants and shops we visit.
Agra Fort is probably more impressive than the Red Fort in Delhi in terms of overall size and the extent of the palace complex. Situated on the bank of the Yamuna River with a splendid view of the Taj Mahal in the distance, it was begun by Emperor Akbar, the first of the Moghul emperors, 8in 1565 and further added to , particularly by his grandson, Shah Jahan, who transformed it into a beautifully ornamented palace, in which he was later to be imprisoned by his son, Aurangzeb. The fort is enclosed by colossal walls 20 metres high and 2.5km in circumference. It contains a labyrinth of interlinked buildings many built in marble intricately inlaid with semi-precious stones – all in remarkably good condition – a central garden and water features. Apparently there is a massive underground complex as well, which is not open to the public.
Across the Yamuna is Itimad-Ud-Daulah – also known as the Baby Taj – the tomb of Persian nobleman Mizra Ghiyas Beg. It was the first Mughal building to be constructed entirely of marble. It is extensively decorated with delicate pietra dura – inlayed semi-precious stones. A forerunner of the Taj Mahal but on a smaller scale, it is a stunningly beautiful building , remarkably preserved to say that it was built between 1622 and 1628.
Our final destination is to a spot on the east bank of the Yamuna River for a view of the back of the Taj Mahal. This is supposed to be a good vantage point at sunset, but we arrive here far too early and in any case there is far too much cloud. Unfortunately a razor wire fence recently been erected protected by an armed guard prevents visitors from walking along the river bank to get a square on view of the Taj in all its symmetrical glory. A blatantly commercial decision designed to encourage tourists to cough up the entrance fee to the gardens directly opposite the Taj and one that must make life difficult for local villagers who earn a living along the river.
India day 4 – Delhi
We decide to hire a car and driver again today and we set out around < ?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /?>
noon. It’s definitely worth the £13 charge for eight hours just to have an air conditioned car to retreat from the heat between the various sights. It doesn’t necessarily mean you get to see more, but it does make it possible to see some of the places that are further out from the centre. We start out with a long list of things to see but end up only getting to three; the Swaminarayan Akshardham temple, the Jama Mosque and the Lotus Temple. Our day is partly curtailed because we set out to see the Mosque first but when we arrive it’s closed to non-Muslims until 2pm so our driver, for some inexplicable reason, heads right out to the suburbs to the Akshardham Temple instead staying in Old Dehli and going a few minutes’ drive to the Purana Qila (Old Fort). We are beginning to learn that it’s not a good idea to leave the organisation of the itinerary to the driver. Plus half-way through the day we have to return to the B&B to get Andy’s glasses because his contact lens is playing up!
The Swaminarayan Akshardham temple complex was inaugurated as recently as 2005 and occupies a vast 100 acre site. Amazingly given its ornamentation and carvings it was built in only five years. Like many places we have visited there is some rather peremptory and superficial security screening of visitors which involves walking through a security arch and submitting to the most cursory of physical checks. Bags, camera and mobile phones are not allowed and we got the impression that the search was for nothing more offensive than cigarettes – but that might be an over-simplification!
The Mandi (temple) is the focal point of the entire complex. Built of pink stone and white marble it features 234 intricately carved pillars, 9 magnificent domes, 20 pinnacles and over 20,000 sculpted figures. Unforutunately it’s closed for maintenance so we don’t get to see the ‘don’t miss’ interior. The mandhi is surrounded by the Narayan Sarovar, a moat containing holy waters from 151 rivers, lakes and stepwells of India visited by Bhagwan Swaminarayan. An impressive two tier colonnade in red standstone encircles the mandir, each is tier is 3000 feet long with 1,152 pillars. There are various other buildings in the complex as well as a statue of the boy Swami himself who is said to have spent 7 years from the age of 11 walking 12,000 miles around India and a 8-petal lotus-shaped three dimenstional garden. The whole complex is certainly impressive, but it’s hard not to question whether the money might not have been better spent helping India’s dispossessed.
The Jama Masjid mosque built in 164-58 by Shah Jahan (he of Taj Mahal fame) is the largest in India. It is constructed in alternating vertical strips of red sandstone and marble with two minarets and a huge courtyard capable of holding 25,000 people. We climbed one of the minarets for a fabulous view of Delhi. Despite the heat, the removal of shoes is obligatory, and there is conveniently a shoe wallah to look after your shoes and a sock wallah to sell you socks to protect your feet from the searingly hot paving. There is also a wallah providing a coverall robe which I must wear despite the fact that I’m already covered from head to foot in a long skirt and long sleeved shirt. All, of course, expect payment. Entry to the mosque itself is free, though.
Our final stop is to the distinctive Lotus temple also known as the Baha’i House of Worship strikingly shaped like an unfurling white lotus (think Sydney Opera House shapes re-arranged). The temple surrounded by nine large pools of water which not only enhance the building but also play a role in the natural cooling system of the prayer hall.
Our hosts have recommended Karim’s Restaurant about 20 minutes away from the B&B so our driver drops us close by with instructions on how to find it down an alley way. The area is heaving with people and rickshaws and we can’t find the restaurant. So we retrace our steps to find the driver, but he seems to have had to park some way off and we can’t find him. We are just wondering what to do next, when to our relief the driver turns up; he’d gone to check that we arrived at the restaurant safely and not finding us there had come looking for us in the street. It turns out that his instructions had not been entirely accurate and the restaurant is in another alleyway. Karim’s is a very popular Muslim restaurant over three floors and rightly so, the food is delicious.
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