Delhi and Agra

We recently returned from our Indian holiday; our last trip out of Shunem until we return home. We flew from Hyderabad to Delhi, took a train to and from Agra, and then flew down to Kerala for a week. Our friend and fellow volunteer Abi was with us until we went to Kerala.

We spent our first afternoon in Delhi, exploring the bustling city and using the Delhi Metro system. It functions very similarly to the system in DC, except instead of a card that you put through a machine you get a small plastic coin the size of a quarter that contains some sort of scannable material inside it. Oh, and it cost 30 cents each for the day. The metro trains were more advanced than those in DC, with a lighted map that has a continuous “you are here” feature. Very helpful for foreigners. We went to a market place called Delhi Haat, which was not quite as nice as our local Hyderabad Shilparamam market. It was still a neat experience, though, and we tried some of the non-alcoholic fruit beers that the market is semi-famous for.

That evening we took a train to Agra, where we stayed at a small little hotel called Hotel Sheela. It was a very inexpensive hotel, and we got what we paid for; the three of us shared a double bed with a top and bottom sheet. We were actually lucky to have a top sheet, it was meant to cover an old cot that was brought into the room. We stayed there because it is located right at the Eastern gate of the Taj Mahal, a prime location for those who want to get there early. We had read in guide books and online that the first visitors in the Taj Mahal each day get a special treat. The wind moving through the dome and out the windows creates a phenomenon known as “the sound of infinity.” The sound is supposed to stop as soon as noise is made inside the dome section. We figured it was worth a shot; you only go to the Taj Mahal once. The next morning we work up at 4:30 and headed out into the cold air to start the long walk to the ticket counter, located a couple kilometers from the actual entrance (great.) We were first in line for tickets by a long shot, and waited in a mostly-deserted building for the ticket sales to start.

Once we had our tickets it was clear that a race was starting, so we hopped on a rickshaw for a speedier journey back to the entrance at the East Gate. Our hearts sank as we got closer, as apparently you can buy tickets the day before if you get there before sundown. We did not have this opportunity, and the line already had about 50 people in it. The ladies queue was quite a bit shorter, so I (Colton) wished Emily and Abi good luck, assuming I wouldn’t have a chance. The men’s line ended up being a bit quicker, though, so we got in at about the same time. We started to walk, figuring we were far too late. We then noticed that some people were standing and waiting for their friends, others were putting cameras together, and others were taking their time moving toward the real entrance.

Looking around we all seemed to realize, “we can do this” and broke into a run. When the beautiful mausoleum came into view I stopped and began to take a picture when the girls yelled “later!” I started to run as the camera clicked, and we were on our way.

After a quick sprint, and a long wait for the girls to catch up, we all ascended the front steps that lead onto the stone courtyard. We saw some guards pacing by the front entrance… “do you think they ruined it?” “No, it doesn’t look like they actually went in.”
Slowly the three of us walked into the foyer, not knowing when we should expect to hear anything. Nothing. We had already removed our shoes, of course, and we tip-toed barefoot across the threshold of the main room. There it was. It was as if we were at the top of a mountain summit, where only the sound of wind can be heard. We were all smiles, and a couple tears at the shear victory of the situation. We came together for a silent hug, and then began to creep around the room. The sound of rushing wind was constant, increasing and decreasing in volume. We were alone with it for several minutes, and then crept out as the next couple walked in.

We spent the next couple hours exploring and photographing the whole building, and the next time we entered the magic was gone. Only the sound of tour guides and visitors could be heard, and it would stay that way until the last guests left at sundown.
We managed to take lots of fun pictures before we left, but I will never forgive myself for missing a good clear shot of the empty Taj Mahal courtyard. I don’t think it’s a very common picture to have.

After we left the Taj Mahal we took a taxi to Fatehpur Sikri, an abandoned city where all the rooms are intricately carved out of red sandstone. It was beautiful, and so hard to believe it was all created by hand. The oddest thing we saw was an Indian teenager trying to get people to pay him to do diving tricks into a algae green pool. Perhaps stranger than the fellow’s business idea was the fact that it was working. We saw at least one man handing over some Rupees to see him to a flip.

When we left the abandoned city we went to a nearby mosque that was a part of the city when it was still inhabited. It was nice, but filled with people trying to sell you crafts for far more than you would pay anywhere else. When we got there we were asked to take our shoes off out of respect for the place. This seemed reasonable until we had explored some and found the salesmen selling trinkets among the old sacred grave sights and anywhere else they thought people might go. It seemed that no one really respected the land mark, so it was difficult to know why they were concerned with the tourists’ feet.

When we left the mosque area we went to go collect our shoes. The fellow who wouldn’t let us wear them inside was trying to get us to pay to get them back! “50 Rupees.” After being harassed by salespeople and followed constantly by locals pretending to be tour guides Emily had had enough. She refused to hand over the 50, and they eventually gave when Emily said we would walk away with the shoes if they didn’t give us change for 10 Rupees. Seeing she meant business, they settled on 5; a small victory for the afternoon. Incidentally, 5 rupees is 10 cents.

Probably the worst part of the day was the train ride back from Agra to Delhi. It was supposed to be a four hour trip, so when the train pulled in an hour late it wasn’t too big of a deal. However, the train made multiple long stops in the middle of nowhere for unexplained reasons, and we ended up getting in about four hours late. The train was the dirtiest we had been on, and they didn’t even have Fanta for sale.

That night we slept at a nicer hotel in Delhi, got room service, and slept well. We flew out the next morning for Kerala, dropping Abi off in Hyderabad as we flew over.

More on Kerala coming soon.