Smelhi Delhi gave me a bad Belhi! Oh yeah, and the Taj Mahal

For those not fluent in Indian languages - Smelly Delhi gave me an upset belly!

The next morning we were off to Bangalore where we stayed at the Hotel Sai Renaissance across from Baba's Ashram. I didn't visit.

Pictures from the road from Hampi to Bangalore





Traffic Jam - Goats

Traffic Jam - Cattle

The traffic cops stood in these little huts in the middle of the road wearing tiny white hats. I thought it made them look silly.

Our gas station attendant with 'assistants'.

A graveyard.

A typical safe highway driving example.

The trucks are all painted with awesome grafitti.

We spent an hour in an actual traffic jam. Those trucks really spew out the noxious exhaust.

The next morning, Suresh's brother who looks just like Suresh but isn't as charming, took us to the airport. I had bought our tickets on my visa so that was good. Again, I got in trouble at the airport. In India, any bag that goes through the security scanner is tagged and the tag is date stamped. Good, my bag was duly processed. But when I went to get on the plane, my purse hadn't been tagged OR stamped! I was removed from line and sent back to security. I just butted in line at that point as my flight was almost loaded and ready to go. They, of course, argued that I didn't need a stamp, I counterargued that I couldn't get on my plane without the stamp. Since a stamp takes 10 seconds I'm not sure why we had to have the 5 minute conversation about whether or not I needed a stamp when clearly I needed a stamp. Eventually, I was tagged, stamped and sent away. I made it onto the plane in time for our uneventful flight.

And then we were in Delhi. After beautiful sweet smelling South India where the people are nice and the drivers respectful, we were in Delhi. Grey, smelly, grimy, rude, life endangering Delhi. Small backtrack - while we were on the road with Suresh, we had tried to make a reservation in one of the Lonely Planet recommended hotels, Ginger. We called Ginger and the front desk guy said there was a room available but we would have to call the reservation line (Ginger is a chain with a central reservation office in Bombay). So we called the reservation line and the guy said 'no room' for the night we were arriving. Suresh spoke to him and he (the guy) was quite rude and then hung up on Suresh. Oh, did I mention that at this point Judy's phone wasn't working, so all of this was using Suresh's phone. When Suresh phoned back, the guy just hung up without even discussing. So we tried a couple of other places. Judy was having a nap by this time so I was left in charge (never a good idea). I couldn't get through to any of the many places that seemed ok. But Suresh as some magic ability to put out a call for available rooms. All of a sudden we were receiving calls from Delhi hotels offering us a room. We weren't really sure of the geography of Delhi and didn't know where we should stay. So one of the calls said they were close to the train station (which we planned to take to Agra) so I booked it. It was a little more than we had been paying but beggars can't be choosers.

So back to our arrival. As I mentioned before, we got a prepaid taxi and off we went to the Singh Continental Hotel in the Karol Bagh district. As we drove along, we realized Delhi is a hideous hole. Too harsh? Ok, Delhi is completely grey and every single street seems to be under construction. I believe that the Commonwealth Games are arriving this summer so they are desperately trying to get the place up to snuff for those visitors (apparently not the pre-games visitors who can just suck it). There are bits and pieces of the above ground Metro system, unattached to the other bits and pieces. And every intersection has another Metro pillar going up right in the middle of it. It was mayhem and chaos and crazy and just plain bad news. But we made it to the right district but then our taxi driver couldn't find the hotel. We found the Singh International and a million other hotels but not the one we had booked. Plus, the Karol Bagh district is even worse than the rest of Delhi, if you can believe it! We were not happy about the location of our hotel. There weren't even any shops around.

Our first views of Dehli in the cab from the airport.

Hideous

Hideous

Hideous

We finally found the hotel (the second worse hotel EVER) and went to our room. We signed in, gave our passport info but we didn't have to pay upfront. The room was not nice, it was just grubby. Judy was not happy and I agreed but I just couldn't see wandering around with our bags trying to find another place. But Judy took charge, thank god, and used the hotel room phone (since hers was still on the fritz) to call other hotels. But the phone didn't work. So we got a new phone. And the guy who brought it even kindly dialed the Ginger hotel number for us (I don't think he knew what he was doing or he likely wouldn't have been so helpful). The room at Ginger was still available and this time they let us book it (wisely, they made us pay with visa over the phone - take note Hotel Singh Continental). So we picked up our stuff and headed back to the lobby. I announced that we were not staying. Of course, there were 6 or 7 men hanging around the lobby as we were making our exit. I was actually worried one of them would try to physically stop us. But the desk clerk just told us it would be full charge even if we left. I tried not to laugh - good luck buddy! I gave him 100 Rupees for one consumed coffee and one phone call. He was not happy, he followed us out, yelling up the street but we just trucked it out of there, lugging all of our bags with us.

But now we have to get to Ginger. We thought it would be easy to grab a cab. But, strangely, taxis in India are not clearly marked. We expected to see autorickshaws but there were only bicycle rickshaws. We weren't sure where Ginger was but we assumed it was too far for that. Judy, always willing to talk to strangers, asked a couple of tea drinking cops where to find a cab. One of them took pity on us and walked up the street with us to find a taxi. I followed him to the middle of the block where he started talking to 6 guys sleeping in a car. I guess this was a taxi? They said $250R. What!!?? But at some point, Judy had stopped at the beginning of the block and had her own negotiations going on with a different group of taxi people. So, I went to that group. They wanted $300R! At some point, an autorickshaw came by but he said he didn't know where Ginger was and so he couldn't take us. He drove away. We tried to negotiate with the corner group but they wouldn't budge so we went back to middle of the block group. But now their price was $350R. WHAT!!!?? Back and forth, lugging our stuff in the blazing heat, cop in tow, laughing so hard that even the very serious strait faced cop started laughing too. Just as we were about to concede and take the last offer of $250R, the autorickshaw reappeared and announced that he could take us for $150R! We jumped in and the two competing taxi groups, by now about 20 people, were all yelling at us and each other by this point. The nice cop made sure the autorickshaw driver wasn't going to overcharge us after the fact by taking down the taxi licence number. And off we went, through the mean street of Delhi with just a doorless tin box between us and the maniacal drivers.

We arrived at the oasis of Ginger hotel just as it was getting dark. We love Ginger. It is very North American in its sensibilities. There is 24 hour internet, wireless internet, 24 hour restaurant, 24 hour pharmacy. The rooms are basic and clean with running water, a working shower (with curtain!) , toilet paper, towels and bless their souls - soap! They even offered an iron and ironing board and free filtered water. Free Filtered Water!! Sob. After the Singh Continental, we were so happy that we decided not to spend the night in Agra like we had talked about, but to stay at Ginger the next night too and just to go to Agra (the Taj Mahal) for the day on Monday.

Unfortunately, I didn't take any pictures of Singh Continental or Ginger.

Now, as I mentioned it was Sunday at this point. So we asked about how to book rail tickets to Agra for the next day. No problem says nice reception man. We have a travel desk - so convenient. ahem. The travel desk person will be back in 30 minutes. 30 minutes, 60 minutes, more, no travel desk guy. So Reception calls him. He says, over the phone, that they can't book anything on a Sunday. "But" I mention, 'we want to go to Agra in the morning and the train leaves at 6am'. Not possible. Ok, so we will go on Tuesday.

Monday morning we visit travel desk guy who talks to us between chit chats with 3 or 4 onlookers. I can never tell if the person helping me is slow or if the system they are working with is slow. I try to give the benefit of the doubt. Anyway, eventually we learn there are no train tickets available for Tuesday. Since we had to be back in Bangalore by Wednesday so Judy could catch her plane home on Thurs 3 am, we asked about taking a bus. Yes, (much time later) there is a bus available. But we have to go across town to get our tickets. What, exactly, is the point of a travel desk if not to book travel? Don't forget at this point, Judy still needs to find a Western Union because she couldn't go to one on a Sunday.

So, into another autorickshaw to the travel agency that has the tickets. Major traffic jam. So we got to really look at Delhi. It did not improve under closer inspection. We bought our tickets and we assured that a bus would pick us up at 6:30 am at our hotel the next morning. As I write this it all seems too obvious, but at this point, I was under the impression that we were booking a two hour bus ride to Agra where we would be dropped off and then picked up at the end of the day. Nuh huh. We were booked on a tour which included a TEN hour round trip - ON A BUS! I didn't realize this until about hour three of the trip to Agra. But we are getting ahead here.

Tickets in hand, we head out to find a Western Union. Big city, big company that is everywhere else in India, nowhere to be found in Delhi (another strike). Every time Judy asked where we could find one, we were led to a tourist shop that paid deliverers of tourists.

That little yellow sign is a Western Union sign. We kept going down random street following the yellow signs only to be told again, that the sign (even the filthiest, most decrepid sign) just went up yesterday and the Western Union 'machine' hadn't arrived yet. Yeah right.

Eventually some kind soul told us to go to the main post office. So, at 3 pm Monday, Judy finally had some cold hard cash. And so did I since she paid me for the stuff I had covered. Hallelujah.

Now we had our two missions for the day completed so we were free to do whatever we wanted. What we wanted was to visit the Red Fort. But, of course, all national museums etc. are closed on Mondays. Really. So we jumped on the Metro and just went. We took a train to a municipal garden but by the time we reached it, it was starting to get dark. So I said I didn't want to go and we turned around without even leaving the station. Back to the central shopping area, Connaught (sp?) Circle. Just as we were exiting the Metro station, it started to sprinkle. By the time we crossed the street, it was pouring. We nipped into a conveniently placed FabIndia where I bought a new kurta (but no matching pants).

But by now we were getting very hungry so we cut our FabIndia time short and went searching for a restaurant, not an easy task, as it turned out. There was a Wimpy's, a KFC, McDonalds etc but no real food for blocks. Eventually we found a place which was adequate. Eating with Suresh was better. Three people meant that we could order a dahl, a curry and a rice. Three portions. But take away one person (especially the one with the biggest appetite) and we were out of food whack. But we managed.

Just a few photos from our day in Delhi.

Judy on the Metro.





Oh, did I mention that Connaught Circle, major tourist area, had no (NO!) sidewalks. Every single one of them had been ripped up. So there we are in the downpour when I take a header - into the mud. I tore up my knee (I finally got to use my extensive first aid kit). Did I mention that I don't like Delhi. But troopers that we are, we carried on shopping. We stopped at one shop where I received my first inappropriate grope. Delhi, so many reasons to hate it. I was trying to buy a shirt and the store owner held it up to me to see if it would fit. I don't think the cupping was an accurate measure as it turned out to be too big. Perhaps he just had small hands and was unable to get an accurate gauge.

Soaking wet, soggy purchases in hand, we returned to Ginger.

6:50 am Tuesday morning - no pick up. Our bus to Agra was scheduled (haha) to leave at 7 am. So we head out into the dark, to catch a taxi to take us to the travel agents where the bus was parked. A mad ride, and I mean crazy, side of the wheel, hand on for dear life, mad dash, across town in an autorickshaw. For some reason Judy's phone had decided to start working so she called the travel agent and said that we were on our way, that our pick up hadn't showed up and would they please hold the bus. The woman on the other end said 'Bus leaves at 7!" We got there at 7:05 and of course, the bus was still there. Our 7am bus promptly left at 7:30.

As mentioned, our two hour bus ride turned out to be 5 hours, the travel agent hadn't explained that and to be fair, I hadn't asked because I thought it was two. After 4 hours and 45 minutes, we got a flat tire. I took this opportunity to call Chris and see how the cats were doing. Apparently fine (little ingrates, they could at least be sad I had disappeared). The tire changing required every single man on the bus to disembark to 'help'. But, after 30 minutes, a new bus arrived and took us the last 5 minutes to our first stop on our unexpected 'tour'.

A flat tire involves delving into the depths of the bus.

The dead tire and other random troubling parts!

The new bus arrives. Maybe it's just me, but that name did not instill confidence.

First stop - the Agra Fort. It was a fort (pictures will show its fortiness) . Again, I couldn't understand our tour guide. I was also transfixed by his wig which had bits of mesh sticking out of the 'hair'. He was kind of creepy and I tried to stay a safe distance although that distance never stayed as far as I wanted. I would turn around, and there he would be, wig jauntily askew.

Agra Fort.



The courtyard inside the fort.

Our guide (Centre, plaid shirt, polyester hair)

We got our first distant view of the Taj Mahal from the fort. You can see how smoggy it was. But even far away and obscured by soot, it was breathtaking. Sorry, be prepared for a lot of Taj Mahal photos!! You know, when I was there, I couldn't really appreciate it but looking at the pictures makes me want to cry, it was so amazing. Definitely one of those life experiences that has to be experienced at least once.







Next stop was to a factory and by chance, an attached store to buy the factory examples. Judy bought a lovely marble Buddha and another not pure silk Sari, which I think will be a gift for someone. Then we hit Costa Coffee which is the north Indian version of Starbucks (Coffee Day is the south Indian version). Our mushroom cheese toasted sandwich hit the spot and so did our lattes. Back on the bus. But now we are running out of time. We get to the Taj Mahal but we only have 60 minutes before we have to be back on the bus at 4:30.

So we get into line, a long line, to enter the gates. The most amusing part of the day for me was that there was a fight at the security gate. Any major monument has a metal detector and/or a pat down. The effectiveness of these security measures are questionable. For instance when we went to the glass house in Bangalore, I had a metal water bottle in my bag, it set the metal detector off. So the guard made me open my bag. Once I got the locked bag open, I had to interrupt her conversation to get her to check my bag. She just waved a wand over bag without actually breaking eye contact with her friend. The water bottle made the metal detector wand scream in protest but she didn't even turn around. So I just left and went in. But apparently, the Taj is a different story. Judy and I were too short to see what was going on but we could hear women yelling. There were things being tossed from the check area into a garbage can nearby. Then the security booth started swaying and the yelling increased. And our line stopped moving. After an amusing 5 minutes where the English speakers in our area speculated on what was going on, we reached the booth where we allowed to enter, yelling free.

The entrance gate.

The line up to get through the gate. Not the security lineup though.

Coming through the gate - get ready.

TA DAAA!! First view is incredible.

Second view - a bazillion people.

At some point, Judy had picked up a friend from the bus. Oh, did I mention that we were the only white people on the bus. There were lots of Indian families with babies, one of whom did not like riding on the bus - she didn't like it for the whole 10 hours. The trip had started out with two Australians but after our questionable breakfast stop, they disappeared. Maybe they called a cab and left the party?? But as it turned out, one of the 'Indian' men turned out to be a Saudi born plastic surgeon from Toronto named Mo (short for Mohammed). He was in India with Operation Smile. We travelled as a threesome once we got to the Taj Mahal. He was a nice guy. There was a lot of using each other's cameras to take each other's pictures so our own photo would be on our own camera.

The Taj Mahal. Really, what can I add to the millions of descriptions that you have already read or possibly even written. It is beautiful, huge, packed with people and hot as bloody hades. Lots of photos. Some ducks on the river out back.

Not very original. But what are ya gonna do.

Yup. Gorgeous. All White Marble.

The Mosque to the left (or the other mirror building to the left that was built for symmetry)

So much white marble.

The view of the gate from the entrance to the actual monument.

Then I went inside. It isn't very big when you are in it. It is basically one big room holding two crypts and lots of carved and inlaid marble. There are a few small rooms on the corners with marble carved screens. The walls had designs inlaid in semi-precious stones. The work that went into this place was incredible.

The entrance. That honeycomb is carved marble. The flowers and the script are inlaid jewels.

Detail of the walls. This is everywhere.

A bit of history. In 1631 the emperor Shah Jahan built the Taj Mahal in memory of his wife Mumtaz, who died in childbirth. However once it was completed, the Shaw's son staged a coup and imprisoned his father in the Agra Fort. He spent the rest of his days looking at his wife's mausoleum from his prison. After the Shaw died, he was finally laid to rest beside his beloved Mumtaz for eternity.

Marble 'lace' hiding the marble inlaid coffins, you can see them in the background.

The coffins.

View of the Entrance Gate from inside the Taj Mahal.

Judy and Mo exiting the mausoleum.

A quiet moment

View of the river at the back of the Taj.

Ducks!!!

A Rose Ringed Parakeet.

A frantic rush through to get back to the bus by 4:30. We were only slightly late. The last passenger arrived at the bus promptly at 5:20.

A last over the shoulder shot as we left the grounds.

The sun sets on the Taj.

Ok, we were rushing but we still stopped for tea. We're not savages.

Mo and his Mini Taj Mahal Souvenir bought through the bus door.

How are we ever going to get out of here? We just drove through, I think everyone managed to get out of the way.

Maybe because this little hidden Ganesh was protecting them from our looming bus.

Five long hours back with a very very bad Bollywood movie (not in English). We arrived back in Delhi at 11:30 when we drove by Ginger. Judy jumped up and asked if we could be let off there, in the street. Sure, why not. So we get out, Ginger no longer in sight, with our stuff, in the dark, in Delhi. But, fortunately, Judy does not have my navigation skills so she managed to wander past the passed out (I hope) men, the pools of urine and vomit, the wandering packs of dogs, past the massive construction zone and got us to the hotel.

Next morning we headed to the airport to leave lovely Delhi. I had booked Judy's flight to Bangalore at 9:30 and my flight to Goa at 12:30. I went with Judy because I knew that the credit card used to purchase a ticket had to be presented at check in. so up we go to the nice lady at IndiGo. Umm, it seems that because the card name and ticket name didn't match, Judy's ticket had been cancelled. This didn't happen the previous time because I had purchased both of our tickets on one charge. So to the supervisor's desk. I think Judy may have actually lost her cool here, just slightly. I knew when a man tried to cut in while Judy was talking to the supervisor and she told him to get back in line! It was her turn and he could just wait (damn it - she didn't say damn it but it was clearly implied). Anyway. A new ticket was issued and cash was paid and all turned out ok. We rushed through security because Judy's plane was about to board. She got through and then the machine died with my stuff inside so we had a quick hug and good bye and Judy was gone. I was now alone, with my bag held hostage by a scanner.

Eventually, my bag was extricated and duly tagged and stamped. I had three hours to kill which was when I discovered Delhi's last loving gift to me, the trots. Stupid Delhi. Did I mention I don't like Delhi.

It is now 9:23 pm and I believe my internet place closed at 9. Maybe when the clerk offered me cookies while he had his tea was a hint. I guess I will leave Goa until next time, although I am running out of time, I leave India in just a few days. Aaack, I had a vision of myself behind the drop in desk at work the other day.

Some more random photos.