The sun rising on the Taj Mahal is perhaps one of the most stereotypical tourist sights in India, but for good reason. The majesty of the white marble mausoleum, towering above the city of Agra, was one sight never to be forgotten. Shah Jahan really did love his wife.

22 years, 22 000 people to build it. A beautifully symmetric complex on the banks of the Yamuna River, a tribute to Shah Jahan’s second wife, who died in childbirth. This was worth the rude awakening in the non-AC’d hotel room at 5:10AM.

We observed the sun rising on the Taj Mahal for an hour at the tallest cafe we could find. We breakfasted with a high school philosophy teacher, Alexandre, from France. Friendly company, compared to the host of flies and mosquitoes sharing our meal with us. He was heading to Fatehpur Sikri, home to a collection of Mughal architecture, and we left him to enter the Taj Mahal.

A kid walked up to us as we approached the South Gate. With perfect English, he guided us to the ticket booth, to the coat check, and smoothly to the South Gate, with a cheery “Please visit my shop after!”. Right. Alex and I decided to use French as our language of communication to exclude the locals from our price negotiations at that point.

And into the Taj. The Great Gate (Darwaza-i rauza) stood before us, an imposing structure itself. Stepping through the doorway and the hordes of other tourists, the white marble of the Taj Mahal invited us into the gardens. The entire complex is beautifully symmetric, down to the Masjid on one side (facing Mecca) and the replica building, the guest house, on the other. The mausoleum itself is symmetric in all 4 directions, giving the same pearly white facade to the banks of the Yamuna, the guest house, the Masjid, and the Great Gate.

You know what? Just come to India. Go see it for yourself. It is majestic.

I’m basically out of adjectives.

Lunch was at Joney’s Place, a tiny kitchen near the gate that Lonely Planet recommended.  A quick malai kofta (deep fried potato with curry) and a banana lassi (yogurt drink) later, we were off to Agra Fort.

Agra Fort was a symbol of the grandeur of the Mughal Empire, had it not been captured many times and desecrated by the British. There were destroyed remnants of palaces built long ago, but there were intact ones as well. The third Mughal Emperor, Akbar, made this his capital, and built the red sandstone fort that was to serve as the foundation. His grandson, Shah Jahan, of the famed Taj Mahal, decided to demolish and rebuild parts of the fort in white marble, his signature material. Inside, there would be two mosques built of white marble, as well as different halls to receive his guests. The size and the detail of these structures was incredible.

We hit 3PM, and had to hit the road to get back to Delhi in reasonable time for school the next day. We took a detour to Mathura along the way, the birthplace of the Hindu deity Krishna. The streets epitomized India: busy, crowded, vibrant, loud. Overwhelming for the unseasoned traveler. Quite thankful for those excursions in Hong Kong and Mainland China now, I am. We made a hurried tour of the Hindu temple, wading through crowds to observe the stone upon which Krishna was birthed, and different shrines that were worshipped. I must confess I understand very little about the Hindu religion, which made this voyage into the temple quite confusing and under-appreciated.

Our golden triangle trip ends with an uneventful ride back to Hauz Khas, walking back into Kumaon Hostel, where I sit now and write, write, and write some more.

Saturday, August 11

This was a travel day. Transitioning between Jaipur and Agra with much to see in between, we’d have a lot on our plate.

First stop: Jantar Mantar, the observatory built by the great astronomer-warrior-king Jai Singh II. We got ourselves a guide (with a Ph D in tourism, he said) to tell us about the instruments, not being astronomers ourselves. I was astounded by the details they had, even in 1727-1734, building and improving their instruments to better tell time. The first instrument was a ramp angled at 27 degrees, able to observe the North Star every night. This meant that Jaipur sat at 27 degrees latitude, and the rest of the instruments could be built.

There was a 24-hour sundial, with one face for when Jaipur sat in the northern hemisphere and another for the south, capable of telling time through sun or starry night skies. A smaller sundial accurate to 20 seconds. A two-part instrument to tell the astrological sign (the month), each part the complement to the other, built to improve the precision of the older one-part instrument. The largest sundial in the world, accurate to 2 seconds. Well worth the money for understanding the instruments and how they worked.

Next, the City Palace. The monsoon rains started while in the courtyard here, the current residence of the young Maharaja in title. A spectacular residence that could not be entered is all I can say here.

The Hawa Mahal (Palace of the Winds) was the last Jaipur site. Built so the royal ladies could observe the happenings of the town without revealing their faces, the front facade was beautifully encrusted in jewels and rose marvelously over the streets below. From inside, there was a view of Jantar Mantar and the City Palace on one side, and the Bazaar on the other.

The drive to Agra began in the labouring heat of the mid-afternoon, a perfect time to enjoy the AC of the car. We reached Abhaneri, a small rural town 95km east of Jaipur. Home to the Harshat Mata Temple and the incredible Chand Baori Step Wells, it was a destitute little town with few tourists in the short time we were there. The step wells, 100 feet deep, were a testament to a bygone era in Indian history.

The drive to Agra continued. We arrived late at night at our next hotel. The drive was treacherous, full of potholes, vehicles without regard for lanes or traffic rules, and the most intense thunderstorm I have ever been a part of. An earthquake of the skies, I remember thinking, the clouds splitting asunder for a brief moment when the light, bright as the day, burst through them.

A brief dinner at the hotel of egg biryani, and off to bed. It was time for a sunrise.

It’s 10PM in my relatively quiet room in Kumaon Hostel. Perfect time to write a blog entry about the long weekend in Jaipur, Abhaneri, and Agra, spent with fellow Fizzer Alexander Johan Harmsen.

Before I go any further, there’s a 2GB/week bandwidth limit here that I’d rather use for talking to you (yes, you!), so here’s a link to the FB album recording this adventure:

Friday, August 10

We’d run into some trouble booking the train. We chose to go for a car with a driver instead, given the insanity of Delhi roads. We didn’t know traffic could get worse, but it did.

Thursday night was spent getting to Jaipur. This was a long ride, with horns beeping, potholes, cows, and monsoon rain. The first memory of the trip is being locked outside the hotel at 2AM, waiting for the staff to open up the place so we could grab some sleep. Thankfully, they did.

The next morning, Amber Fort. We arrived through the Chand Pol (Moon Gate) into the Jaleb Chowk (Main Courtyard), with elephants and their tourist riders arriving through the Suraj Pol (Sun Gate). A small detour from the main gate brought us to the Siladevi Temple, a plain but ornate shrine. No pictures and no shoes here, but I had no complaints either. Back onto the main “path” through the palace, the Diwan-i-Am (Hall of Public Audience) appeared. An open hall with double rows of columns, each topped by an elephant’s head, lending a regal aura to the ruling Maharaja.

To enter the third courtyard, we passed through the Ganesh Pol, a magnificent gate separating the public and private audience halls. The Jai Mandir (Hall of Victory) in this courtyard gave commanding views over Maota Lake and the rest of the city below. The final courtyard was the women’s quarters, a complex maze of rooms to prevent women being seen by men, or perhaps the Maharaja to be seen from his (potentially jealous) wives.

A quick lunch, and right back to the forts. The next fort up on the Cheel ka Teela (Hill of Eagles) was the Jaigarh Fort. This one was much less ornate, being a military fortress that was never captured. Alex and I went inside after squeezing through a tiny ticket booth, jumping up onto the ramparts to haphazardly wander around a rather large complex. The ominous clouds began rolling in, building the rain from a gentle patter reminiscent of Vancouver to a climatic finish with a dousing of monsoon rain. To escape this, we ran to the nearest rooftop, housing the largest wheeled cannon in the world. Fired only once as a test, with a range of 25km, it was more of a psychological weapon.

The rain continued, and at this point we run into some locals, enjoying their holiday. A group of engineers from Jaipur, eying a group of young women, began their mating call – a crescendo in volume and pitch in a group. What the heck, we joined in. Alex was the star of the show, as the tourist white guy, he drew the lion’s share of the attention from the locals. Friendly and hospitable with varying grasps of English, these guys were lots of fun, promising us a celebration of Lord Krishna’s birthday in the evening (or not, more on that later).

We stopped by a textiles shop, getting the tourist treatment to different types of cotton, silk, and pashmina (a type of fine cashmere wool). Fun to learn about, I left with a red cotton-silk scarf, the cheapest thing there, to replace the red scarf I’d lost in Kaiser seemingly years ago.

A nice dinner, and we set out to the City Palace to enjoy the festivities. A quick call to the guys confirmed that they weren’t up for it, and we’d have a gander of the streets alone. An hour and a half walking through the streets of Jaipur, with Alex attracting stares and joyous “Hello’s!” from the kids. These were loud, messy, and vibrant streets, with every second lamppost blaring music, celebrating the birth of Krishna. The cows were disinterested, the dogs were more interested in each other, and even the chipmunks didn’t seem to care. Everything was moving and alive, in light and shadow, a fitting end to a day of vibrancy.