Advertisement
Red Fort
Here we look down a hall in the Red Fort in Delhi. Before we entered India we, of course, had to exit Kathmandu. Both Chris and I were frisked and our bags searched 3 separate times--once at the entrance, once at the gates, and once in a special frisking tube just outside the airplane. Hurry up, wait. Hurry up, wait. One of the security staff upon seeing my 1 miao Chinese bill
inside my purse declared "I like Chinese money." I smiled, nodded, and said something non-committal. He fingered my money and said it again a few times. "I like Chinese money. I like Chinese money." Clearly my bag search was not going to end with my 1 miao bill in my possesion. "I like Chinese money." Fine. Take it. I wasn't, you know, saving that for myself or anything. That wasn't a memento of China for, you know, me, the person who went there. Fine. Take it. 1 miao is worth nothing and this "security" guard felt the need to relieve me of it. Chris then walked through security blithely with three banned lighters (including a Mao lighter that proudly beeps out "The East is Red") and his own 1 miao bill. thrbpththth.
This did not bode well for our entry
Taj Mahal
The Taj was without a doubt the best thing in India. into India.
Mom had warned me that India was full of people eager to do all sorts of small favors for you. For a price. We were still not prepared. Stop. Be calm. Breathe. Stay positive. Everything is fine. Don't flip out. My mantra. Needless to say, it didn't work all the time. We found India to be full of people wanting desperately to seperate us from our money everywhere, at all times. Stop. Be calm. Breathe. Stay positive. Everything is fine. Don't flip out.
In Delhi we stayed at a cheap pink-walled place in Paharganj, a grubby tourist market street across from the New Delhi train station. We ate Indian food with abandon and marvelled at the cows that marched, stately, up and down the streets. Our hotel sat at the end of one of many identical alleys. We had a fail-safe way of figuring out exactly which alley was ours. It was the one with the tandoori chicken stand next to a public urinal. Nothing whets your appetite like a mound of raw chicken legs marinating not three feet away from urinating men! Clearly, we did not eat at that particular food stand.
In Delhi
More Taj
Here is another shot of the Taj Mahal in Agra. we visited the huge Red Fort in Old Delhi. It was marvellous. I can only imagine what it would have been like in Shah Jahan's time 300 years ago. Water would have flowed in the garden cooling the desert palace. Rich tapestries would have been hung between every column. It would have been true, what is written inside the palace: If there is paradise on Earth, it is here, it is here, it is here. Now, the water doesn't flow, the carpets are gone, and cannabis shrubs grow wild next to the public bathrooms. There is still a glimpse of that paradise, even now, though.
Chris and I spent our second anniversary at the Red Fort and walking around the old British-only suburb. We felt a little hot and rumpled by the end of the evening, but still managed to have a nice dinner. What a time for our stomachs to begin the light rumbling that was to presage trouble to come.
With wobbly bellies we headed to Agra to see Shah Jahan's monument to his dead love, the Taj Mahal.
The Taj Mahal defies description. When we walked through the gate and it stood majestically before
Fatehpur Sikri
This is an old abandoned palace near Agra. us, all we could say was, "Wow." Parakeets flew around us. Hundreds of tourists, mostly Indian, swarmed around the best picture spots. Many of them took advantage of perspective and took pictures of friends picking the monument up by the tip of the dome. We decided against it. Picking up the Taj Mahal, even in a picture, just seems a little small.
After leaving the beauty and majesty of the Taj Mahal, we sat through hours of Indian traffic--honk honk, stop, turn car off, turn car on, move four feet, honk honk, stop, hey look! a camel! honk--to see the old capital of Shan Jahan's grandfather, Fatehpur Sikri. The city and its capital were barely completed when everyone realized that there wasn't any water anywhere near. So it was abandoned. Hrm. You think they might have noticed the lack of water before they built the giant palace complex. But no matter.
The palace was most impressive because it was remarkably preserved. I guess there is some upside to having your abandoned capital in the middle of nowhere. Best of all were the tallest gate in Asia, standing some 50 meters high, and the groups of eunuchs in town
Getting the Press
Alex bargins with a kid for some over priced goods. for a conference.
Before we headed for Jaipur, we stopped off in Baharatpur to visit the bird sanctuary there. Aparently, I love birdwatching. I was surprised as anyone. The trees were alive with owls, parakeets, jungle inspectors, peacocks, bee-eaters, flycatchers, kingfishers and birds whose names I have already forgotten. We missed the migratory birds, but the Indian birds were more than enough for me. We saw the worlds tallest flying bird, the Saras Crane, and a nice, long rock python. What a peaceful respite from the hectic comings and goings of the cities.
So much for peaceful--next stop Jaipur, the pink city.
Jaipur is pink. Pink walls, pink buildings. Pink, pink, pink. Not Barbie pink, more like sunset pink. We nursed our rumbly tumblies and took in the sights. The palace of winds was pretty amazing. It's five stories high and one room deep. Women used to peer out of its many windows at the action on the streets that they were forbidden to walk. The city palace, which still houses the maharaja's family was quite impressive. Red turbaned guards lolled about waiting for tourist cameras and tourist dollars before snapping to attention. The finest attraction in
TWEET!
Baharatpur is a bird park outside of Agra. Alex really enjoyed this place. the city, however, was the Jantar Mantar, the astrological garden of the maharaja. That man was obsessed with following the motion of the sun. There were numerous different copies of the same machine because earlier editions were found wanting. The sundial acurate to 20 seconds was replaced by a far larger one accurate to two seconds. It stands about five stories high and is still the largest sundial in the world. I guess he really, really needed to know what time it was.
Though the sights in Jaipur were amazing, walking around in Jaipur was a trial. Crossing the street meant dodging buses, cars, autorickshaws, bicycle rickshaws, bullock carts, bicycles, bicycle carts, cows, bullocks, goats, hawkers and other pedestrians all honking, mooing, shouting, dinging or making some sort of noise. Touts would prey on our natural American tendency to be nice to anyone starting a conversation. People would trot alongside talking to our backs about America, politics, India, anything. We would give polite answers, not turning around, making no eye contact, until the inevitable--come to my shop, it's right here. I hate being guilted into shopping. Three no thank yous later, and we're the bad guys. Of course, Jaipur
Hunting Egret
This guy stood motionless for 15 minutes while fishing in the wetlands of Baharatpur. is notorious for friendly guys buddying up to you, defrauding you, and ripping you off for hundreds or thousands of dollars. It's so widespread that there's even a Hindi word for a crooked tout. So Chris and I became instantly suspicious of anyone being nice to us on the street. Walking around in shopping areas turned us into people we don't want to be. Suspicious, closed, irritable. Stop. Be calm. Breathe. Stay positive. Everything is fine. Don't flip out.
We gave up on markets. Chris had more patience for the places than I did. Touts are just doing there jobs. When every other store sells the same thing, you have to find some way to get people in your store. I understand it. It makes sense. When it's friendly, I can tolerate it, even. Charging two, four or even ten times a fair, profitable price is dishonest and disgusting in my mind. In India, its business. I understand it. Indians have far less money than tourists. It makes sense. I still think its disgusting. After days and days of it, I just gave up. In Jaipur, we left the markets and went to a mock Rajasthani village outside of
Palace of the Winds
This is a palace that was once occupied by the women married to the king. town, ate a great dinner, watched some fun shows, avoided buying anything, and left Jaipur the next day.
Back in Delhi, our stomachs had just given up. We spent the last couple of days walking around a beautiful air conditioned mall, eating western food in an attempt to shore up weak bellies, and watching western movies. We also talked and joked around with the receptionist at our pink-walled super-budget hotel, Bobby. He is a truly loving and openhearted fellow. All the sourness and suspicion fell away. Thanks, Bobby, for saving our India experience.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.097s; Tpl: 0.012s; cc: 8; qc: 46; dbt: 0.0509s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb