Day 5: Touch the Taj

4.7.2016

In the train, all 3 of us get a really great rest. This already shows how bad the previous accommodations were. In the end, an air-conditioned accommodation is really comfortable. Even if it moves, or maybe because of that. Gudi is on the top bunk and tells us about some rollercoaster rides during the night. In general, we all sleep long and intensively. Some for recovery, others because they are bored anyway. After the train stops for 2 hours just before Agra but doesn't move forward, our loose schedule gets a little bit shaky. Originally, we wanted to arrive at 6 am, now it's already past 9. The mysterious tour that we actually want to join starts at 10:30, but it's from Agra Cantt railway station. We are currently at Agra Fort. Well, never mind. Anyway, it's a tight one. In the end, we decide against the safe but more expensive and predetermined option of the organized bus route. We book a car with a driver instead. The driver will take us to various spots.

So our tour begins in the air-conditioned car, which is cheaper than the bus in Agra, for some unknown reason, and takes us through bumpy roads and several villages to Fatepur Sikri. It's quite a touristy style, but we want to see a lot in a short time, so be it. We can take fascinating photos from the car. It's obvious that the number of people who can fit on a scooter is endless. Families are packed onto one scooter. It's madness. But not only scooters are family meeting points, it seems that even large families can fit into a tuk-tuk. Including a dog and a cow. Well, without a cow. But when I think about how tight it was for us (although we also had luggage), I must say I have a lot of respect for the Indian ability to squeeze into tight vehicles. It's like a lively game of Tetris.

Arriving in Fatepur Sikri, we first visit the Fatepur Palace. It's made of red stone, which is common in the region. This stone is good at releasing heat. The temperatures that can be reached are unbelievable. The Mughal ruler used to live here. After MOli and GUdi get going, we feel very honored that the Indian rulers have named themselves after us - MOGU(len).

Because good MOGUs are good Muslims, they built a mosque at each of their palaces (they changed palaces quite often). In Fatepur Sikri, the mosque is called the Sikri Mosque, which impresses with its magnificent arches. When passing through the mosque, you can make a wish, but you're not allowed to say it out loud. Nothing was said about writing it down, but I still don't dare to mention my wish.

Less impressive and not necessarily demonstrating a very extravagant belief is the presence of crowds of vendors. I'm assured that they are only here because of a holiday, but it makes me skeptical. Furthermore, this place is crowded with small children who suspiciously hover around our bags - although their cute smiles warm our hearts, it doesn't help us if our bags end up empty. So we soon make our way back and are delighted to find that our driver is actually still in the parking lot and our luggage is still in the car. Since one person in the group is still a bit leaky, we ask for a touristy restaurant. Ouch... it's expensive. But it gives us the opportunity to leisurely try out the Indian cuisine at the buffet and even have a coffee. In India, it's better to drink chai. Coffee tastes like hot water with dry soil stirred in. Disgusting. But there are two quite pleasant things that make up for the horror of the coffee. Firstly, our waiter is an Austrian-Indian immigrant who used to live in the 7th district of Vienna. Secondly, we discover the first western toilet since the beginning of our trip. This means a toilet seat, a seat, and even paper. A luxury for our behinds.

Our further journey is more standing than driving. Traffic jam in India. This is mainly expressed by a symphony-like orchestra of different honks. And a barely comprehensible system of changing lanes and wild gestures by the drivers.

Our next stop is Agra Fort. Yes, the same Agra Fort that we saw in the morning. Agra Fort was the second residence of the Mughal ruler and in my opinion, it looks exactly like the first one. Honestly, it doesn't impress me much, but the view of our next destination, the Taj Mahal, makes me drool all over the red stone of Agra Fort.

Originally, Gudi was supposed to be fully recovered on this day, but despite the bland diet of rice, her stomach decides to send the grainy good back down south. So our visit to Agra Fort ends after a rather short time.

When leaving the fort, a very excited stall vendor runs after me, who actually looks more like a beggar. Upon closer inspection, I realize that he has my sunglasses and wants to return them to me. It's hard to believe that I've already lost them again - yes, not the first time. I also manage to drop small amounts of money twice on this day, but both times they are returned to me by friendly Indians. Karma be with them. It's just not my day somehow. But India and its people are showing their best side. For now, I strongly believe in the principle: too dumb to be robbed.

Arriving at the Taj Mahal, we are initially less impressed and more dismayed because the view of the monument has been denied to us until now.

But from the beginning. The entrance fee is shocking, especially for Indian standards. 10 € is a blow to the head. And the treatment of white tourists leaves much to be desired. Not only do we have to pay many, many times more than everyone else, but we are also constantly being tricked. There is basically no change available. Hetti and I actually manage to forget to ask for change for the audio guide and locker room. We only realize it in the hermetically sealed Taj area. Only the heroic deeds of "Thrifty Gudrun", who can be quite hectic when it comes to money (who would have thought that given her otherwise calm demeanor), save our hard-earned money.

Also, I manage to lose a ticket, which is a hassle as it is constantly needed. But somehow, I manage to "wurschtle" my way through, as they say in Vienna. Long day... big chaos, not much more to say about it.

Ultimately, the view of the Taj Mahal compensates for all the hardships of the day and all the obstacles that have been thrown at us during our journey. This time, it's not a blow to the head with a marble block, but a breathtaking revelation of shaped, white marble blocks. The Taj Mahal area, which includes several other red buildings, is one of the most impressive things I have ever seen. My goodness, the sun sets exactly under the left dome of the adjacent building. It casts a fascinating light on the main dome of the Taj. Truly, we are all deeply moved and our expectations are more than satisfied. Just to be on the safe side, I take a photo that makes it look like I'm touching the top of the Taj's dome - "Touch the Taj."

On the way back, yes, unfortunately, we have to leave our new favorite place after sunset, we visit a shop. We really thought that this driver would leave us alone with his "only look, no buy, 3 minutes, good for you, I know what you like" bullshit. But apparently, that's not possible. We guarantee him that we won't buy anything, but ironically we leave a bunch of money there. After Gudi and I realize that it's the last opportunity to get something Indian for the interior of our future Asian-starred apartment, we quickly agree to disagree. I quickly fall in love with a folding wooden table with detailed engravings and inlaid bronze elephants. Gudi wants some weird bronze statue. Well, it's quite nice, but... well. In the end, we settle for a colorful wooden elephant mask. Victory!... I think.

In the end, we have to say a more or less tearful goodbye to our guide and wait what feels like an eternity for the supposedly great and modern train that will take us to Delhi. When it finally arrives, we even get food on the train, but Gudi is not allowed to bring it to our seats. So I eat hers - a mistake as it turns out the next day.

At this point, it should be mentioned that we seem to have a similar role for the Indians as rock stars. We are constantly being secretly photographed, people whisper behind us, and the bravest even ask us for photos together. By now, I am probably immortalized on 15-20 Indian smartphones. But they probably won't build an altar in their living room with these photos... or will they? The Indians also adore my beard. I'm often compared to various Bollywood stars. I could get used to this VIP life because it is quite close to my idea of how I should be treated. I just need to demand the banana leaf waving. It will come. On the other hand, the girls don't like the attention very much. More for me, I guess.

At the train station in Delhi, we fight our way through the nightly jungle of tuk-tuk drivers. For once, we are only half fooled, I think. Maybe it's because I'm slowly adopting Indian customs and unconsciously nodding my head like the locals do, to emphasize that... well, actually I don't know what this head nodding stands for, but it seems to be well received.

Arriving at our "accommodation," the rule comes to mind: never book a place to sleep near a train station. Unfortunately, a bit too late. Indescribable, simply indescribable. I think it's the worst place I've ever visited. In a dark, narrow, filthy alley, we are welcomed by a shady figure in a sweaty tank top. He assigns us two rooms, and we're not really happy about sleeping separately. Gudi and Hetti have sleeping bags, so they can avoid touching the disgusting bed. I stupidly left mine in Varanasi. So I just sleep on my inflatable laybag. It's very sweaty, but that fits well with the whole room. To be a bit on the safe side, I position my laybag next to the double dirt pile of the girls. Unfortunately, during the night, my buttocks become acquainted with the floor, as not only my laybag but also my cushion slowly loses air. The following hours are the real hardship for me as well. At least I didn't oversleep.