Round the World Journal
by Matt Donath
Nov 5-6. I wanted to skip Agra, but Sybil said we couldn't leave India without seeing the Taj Mahal. I'd heard so many negative stories about Agra - tourists getting fleeced or sick or hassled - that I was willing to skip it. "What if there's an earthquake and the Taj is swallowed up?" asked Sybil. "Let it go," I replied.
However, after ignoring a few cheating taxi drivers at the airport (where even the pre-pay taxi counter inside will swindle you) we actually find a fair taxi driver. Then we find a relatively honest rickshaw driver! The touts on the street don't seem any worse than the rest of India. Our guard is up, but the punches aren't coming as fast as we'd expected.
Later, sitting in the rooftop Shanti Restaurant (not recommend for food, but the view is perfect) overlooking the Taj after a morning visit, I'm very happy we came to Agra. Yes, the Taj Mahal is as good as advertised. This grand, elegant, white marble memorial, covered with intricate inlaid designs, sits on a wonderfully undeveloped stretch of the Yamuna River, tastefully surrounded by green spacious grounds. It's truly a marvelous sight and well worth enduring the disgustingly polluted city of Agra.
This town may have the worst municipal water in the world. We're boiling the water with an electric coil and the Agra water dissolves a thick layer of minerals from the metal! It can not be drunk. The air needs to be chewed a bit before you can manage to choke it down. Agra is an ecological horror, but it does indeed house one of the world's greatest treasures.
A 10rs rickshaw ride brings us to the famous Red Fort. Once again we are not disappointed. Enormous forts don't ordinarily strike me as elegant, but the Red Fort's meticulous construction and beautiful decorations lend grace to its enormity. Who decorates a fort anyway? I picture the wealthy rulers of Agra constructing this gigantic fortress more for a play toy than for protection. These guys needed some Legos!
An auto-rickshaw driver literally hijacks us by driving halfway to our destination before stopping at a deserted stretch and refusing to take us where we want to go. He insists that we must visit some factories and shops. We insist otherwise. We're losing the battle until Sybil jumps out and writes down his license plate number. She finally convinces him that we will call the police unless he takes us where we want.
We see another slice of life while strolling through a filthy market. I hate to keep harping on the unhygienic aspects of life in India, but when you see people pick out food items so black with flies that you can't even tell what they are, your stomach churns in protest. I stand mesmerized watching thousands of flies crawling all over something. Only when someone buys the swarming mound, upsetting the insects, can I tell that cheese is sold at this stall.
We purchase fruit we can peel - a sour pomegranate and some bananas. This leads us into one of the most frightening encounters of the trip! We're eating our bananas atop the roof of our Sidhartha Guesthouse (not recommended) when a large monkey charges us! We know he's just after the bananas and we do our best to aggressively scare him off. Sybil hurls a vent cover at it. However, this monster is completely unafraid of us once he sees we're unarmed. With relentless persistence, he advances and we retreat downstairs. Wait a second! He continues to follow us downstairs! We scream at him as we back off some more, but he comes after us down a second flight of stairs, hissing and menacing his fangs. He almost grabs Sybil, so I have to sacrifice half the pomegranate by throwing it at him. This allows us to escape, but we're shaken up by the ordeal.
During an outside-seated dinner at the Sidhartha everyone suddenly starts coughing wildly before rushing for the exit. What hit us? Feels like we were tear-gassed. Basically, we were pepper-sprayed. A Sidhartha worker explains that some locals burnt some chilies, creating toxic pepper gas. He says they do this "for bad-evil." "They like to create bad-evil?" I ask.
Nov 7. We spend a pleasant day exploring the remarkably well-preserved ancient city at Fatehpur Sikri. Few other visitors are here, heightening our enjoyment of the deserted palace complex. The Fatehpur portion consists of a large mosque containing mausoleums for Muslim royalty.
We stay at a place called the Goverdhan (05619-882222) -- recommended for sleeping but not for eating. After perusing the menu, I ask about "Jera Rice" and am told this is "salty rice." Ok, I try the "Vegetable Fried Rice" and receive the saltiest rice I've ever tasted.
Nov 8. A short 10rs jeep ride brings us to Bharatpur and its Keoladeo Ghana National Park. Despite a hefty (recently increased four-fold for foreigners) entrance fee, we have a very enjoyable day biking and hiking around this famous bird sanctuary, spotting an amazing number of birds.
Around the turn of the century, a Raj built up the area around a marsh so it would hold more water and attract more birds. He did this so he could blast them out of the sky by the thousands during shooting parties, now "memorialized" with plaques boastfully listing the obscene numbers of the killing games. Gun-happy rich people from all over the world hunted birds here up through the 1960's. The area became a national park in 1983 and now is one of the most important sites in India for migratory birds, including the rare Siberian Crane.
We sleep at the Kirin Guesthouse (321001, recommended), run by the cousin of the guy from Fatehpur Sikri. This side of the family knows how to cook with something besides rice and salt. Kr. Tarun Singh's mother whips up some great curries and chapatis for us.
Nov 9. After a relatively roomy bus ride to Deeg, we explore the City Palace there. These buildings are in a rather bad state of disrepair, but we get to wander all over them without seeing any tourists. Climbing up to a rooftop we have a shocking flashback (remember the movie Carrie when the arm reaches up from the grave at the end?). We turn a corner and surprise a large monkey! Fortunately, everyone gets scared and backs off.
An old man opens up some rooms that contain belongings of the old Raj. We see his elephant foot decanter, an enormous bed, and an extravagantly cushioned room used for playing chess (I bet!).
We're surprised to find this place is off the tourist path. The fact that Deeg itself is a pit might have something to do with that. Vehicles, camels, cattle, and pedestrians slog through the knee-deep sludge that fills the central road. Some camel drivers make an attempt at aesthetics by decorating their beasts with dyed designs, clipping patterns in their hair, and pinning flowers on their noses. Hmm, doesn't really disguise their underlying ugliness.
After missing a bus, we grab a rickety private car to Alwar. At first we have the entire back of the jeep to ourselves. After a few kilometers we stop and about a dozen (no exaggeration!) guys pile on top of us. After we claw our way out and threaten to walk, we're given a front seat. After all, we're paying about ten times the going rate. A flat tire delays us and offers temporary respite from the hair-raising driving and the driver's cassette tapes. Sybil aptly dubs his music "desert rap." Each song starts with a lot of yelling, followed by grunting male voices punctuated by ABBAesque female vocals and dipsy electronic solos. Truly, music from hell.
Sybil informs me that we have a financial crisis. While we have enough money for at least a week (how can you call that a crisis?), the places we are headed for are extremely unlikely to have banks that offer credit card advances. This is one of the difficulties with trying to travel with funds obtained solely from credit or ATM cards. So, we need to make a detour to Jaipur before heading west as we'd originally planned.
Easier said than done. Before getting to Jaipur we must endure a crazy, perverted Alwar railway bigwig, who tortures us for hours with lewd stories before selling us tickets. He wants to know what we did in our hotel room after viewing the erotic sculptures at Khajuraho. He also details dressing a foreign women with a sari. This gets him all sweaty.
We zone through a grueling 3rd Class night train. Did I complain about 2nd Class a few weeks ago? Subtract some seating from 2nd Class, make the benches uncomfortably wooden, add a LOT more people, and you have 3rd Class.
Indian railway stations can sometimes be a bit nasty, but large ones like Jaipur offer some valuable amenities. One of these is the Retiring Room. They aren't cheap and they certainly aren't clean, but when you get into a station at a bad hour and don't want to deal with touts or transportation, the Retiring Rooms are very convenient. Jaipur station also has a very reasonable dining area where you can get a perfectly edible Thali meal for 16rs.
Sybil's complaints bring a "cleaning" man to our Retiring Room. He's ready to bolt after a cursory sweep, but Sybil directs his attention to the scatological horrors of the bathroom. To our dismay, the guy sticks his foot in the toilet bowl and swishes things around. Then he sticks the broom in (so that's where it was before he dragged it all over the floor) and stirs things up a bit more. From now on, no more complaints about room cleanliness! The cure is worse than the disease.
Nov 10. Yesterday was such a bad travel day that I don't feel like doing much today. We run errands -- getting money and some supplies - and this takes far longer than in most places. We do take the time to tour the small but enjoyable Hawa Mahal, the "Palace of Winds."
Nov 11. We normally avoid guided tours, but we heard several good words about the one given by the Rajastani government through Jaipur. So we took it. It's OK, but I wouldn't recommend it. The half-day tour runs us through the City Palace, an ancient observatory, the Amber Palace, and a few sites of little interest. Then they surprise you by ending up at a handicraft shop. Better to do these on your own.
More train rides! Sybil has us rushing all the way west to Jaisalmer before making our way back east and south. She says the train connections are better this way. Maybe so, but I've had enough moving around for awhile! Yesterday we had a five-hour ride to Jodpur followed by an overnight to Jaisalmer. On the Jodpur train, the guy sitting next to me decides to put his feet on my thigh. The only saving grace is that I have a bottom bunk on the Jaisalmer train and no one tries to sit on my feet this time. I can now do a very good impression of a zombie.