AGRA: JOURNEYS

"The embodiment of all things pure", that's what Rudyard Kipling said about me. Ha! I wish! In fact it was these words that Mr Kipling, (Rudyard, not the cake man!) used to describe the monument that has come to symbolise India. We ventured to Agra especially to see it, like millions do ever year. Lauren was especially excited, as you couldn't go to India and not see the Taj Mahal. I was less excited as I been there done that and got the T-shirt, on my last trip. As well as that, Agra was a complete shit hole, which has nothing going for it apart from the Taj. It was also, if I remember rightly, bloody freezing!

Our train arrived at 6.00am in the bitch black and my memory was right: Agra was bloody freezing! After finding our guest house, we were told we couldn't check in until 10.00am.
"Come on Lauren, lets go and see the Taj then. It's nice at sunrise."
Well that is when your not freezing your ass off; dressed like a homeless person to try and keep warm; have to walk 1.5km to the ticket office where some bright spark has decided to put it thinking it was a good idea; thus missing sunset; and then being given a lift back to the Taj on a giant electric golf cart with a load of Japanese tourists with mouth masks on!!! Yeah! Great idea! All that said, it didn't ruin the moment. Even looking upon the Taj Mahal for a second time was still breath taking. I looked at Lauren. It was having the same effect on her.
"It doesn't look real" she said.
Even though you are stood there looking at it with your own eyes, the Taj has this dream like effect. It doesn't look real. It looks like a painting; a very beautiful painting. This is why it is one the most beautiful things ever created by man and even the tourists, the touts and the crap souvenirs can't destroy that, and that surely is a feat in itself! Maybe it is so special because it was built out of pure love. The Mughal emperor Shan Jahan build it for his fourth wife (greedy) after she died giving birth to their 14th child (should of kept it in your pants mate)! Hmmm! The best thing I have ever got built out of love was a Valentines day card from my ex with a blurred picture of him sticking out his tongue, which was cut out into a heart shape and then outlined in screwed up balls of toilet paper, with "Happy Valentines" written very badly in biro at the bottom. I guess it's the thought that counts? I still have it actually. Maybe it is the simple things that make you smile?

The next day we went to Fatepur Sikri which is an abandoned palace near Agra. It was built by a Mughal emperor but was only inhabited for 7 years because of water storages in the area (You would of thought they'd check that out before they built the Dam thing)! Anyway it was OK, but after the amazing palaces of Rajasthan it seemed a little boring and nothing to write home about. It was also full of annoying touts trying to rip us off! No the highlight of that day was not the actual place, it was the process of getting there and back. You see, I have found through travelling that sometimes it's the journeys that that far out do the destination.

Fatepur Sikri is 48km outside of Agra. Auto rickshaws do not go there and taxis are expensive. We decided the best and cheapest way to get there would be the local bus. Local buses are well? Hmmm different! For a start we turned up at the bus station. No one really speaks English. We have to say the destination a hundred times before anyone understands you. After that we point a lot at a bus, staying the destination again to make sure this is the right one, until we get a nod. Well we actually get the Indian head wiggle (the Indian gesture where they wiggle their head side to side). It means just about anything, so you never have a clue if there saying yes or no. We eventually find a bus, that we think is the right one. It looks like its seen better days and is falling to pieces, as my seat is coming off its barracks and slides side to side when moving, which makes me feel travel sick! After 15 minutes of travel the inevitable happens: the bus breaks down. I look out the window. The driver seems to be under the bus banging around. He then gets up and him and the conductor argue for a bit. Then they scratch their heads for a bit. Then they talk on their phones for a bit. In the mean time some of the passengers have got off and have formed a crowd around them. There is a lot of commotion, and then the rest of the passengers get off the bus. Me and Lauren just look confused as we haven't got a clue what is going on. We get off the bus. We are told that this bus cannot be mended and we have to wait for the next bus. After half an hour, sat on a busy road side curb and being harassed by some beggar kids, the next bus turns up. Everyone rushes forward to get on and as it already has passengers on board, there is quite a scuffle to get a seat. Luckily me and Lauren get one. With a sudden new influx of passengers, the new bus driver doesn't seem happy. He is refusing to drive and shouting at everyone in Hindi. We just sit there as we haven't got a clue what he is saying. Sometimes it's good to be ignorant. After a while he stops arguing about God knows what, and we are on the road again. I'm sat there (thankfully not on a rocking chair this time!) and I start to close my eyes when the bus comes to a sudden screeching halt and we are all flung forward on the bus. When I have up righted myself I see that the sudden drama was because of an oil tanker that had just decided to pull out in front us. OMG! We just nearly crashed into an oil tanker!!!!! Mr bus driver is even more unhappy now and is screaming at the driver of the tanker out of his window. Both drivers are just hurling abuse at one another while all the passengers look on. Our conductor gets involved now too, and shoves his head out the window and screams also. Now I don't know what the tanker driver said to the conductor (maybe it was something about his mother, like that Italian player said to Zidane which made him head butt him?), but the next thing the conductor gets out of the bus and tries to attack the tanker driver, but he has locked his door. For the next 5 minutes the conductor tries to get the door open and is just shouting a lot as well as the bus driver! We did eventually get to our destination.
I would like to say the return journey went more smoothly, but that would be lie! Firstly we were told it wasn't the bus back to Agra even though it was, by some cafe guy who wanted us to eat his establishment. Not long into the journey a man gets on who is clearly drunk as he is slurring his words, and is trying to eat some green stuff but is spreading most of it around his mouth. The journey seemed to be going quite well, apart from the drunk, until a group of young boys get on. The conductor goes down to them to take payment. Then he starts screaming at them. Then the rest of the bus starts screaming at them (Can everyone just stop arguing for a minute)! We drive for another 10 minutes with all this going on until the driver stops and the conductor gets off the bus and comes back with a policeman who then drags the boys off! What the hell is going on? The man behind us informs us in his bad English.
"Madams. They no pay ticket. People not happy. Things get very temperature!"
I look around the drunk is now passed out.
After half an hour the boys return to the bus looking guilty and we continue our journey, and the shouting, as the conductor and the passengers begin to berate the boys again.
"Yes Madams. Very temperature indeed" says the man behind us again.
That night after dinner, I was haggling with auto rickshaw drivers to get back to our guest house, when a cycle rickshaw came forward and agreed to 40 rupees straight away. As we sat in the back, the night air was cold and I looked at our driver. He was thin and frail looking and even though it was cold he only wore a fine cotton shirt and flip flops. As the journey wore on I realised it was a lot longer than I expected. We felt guilty. 40 Rupees is 50p.
"I'm going to give him more" said Lauren "He seems like a good man and he reminds me of my Dad. Just this once."
At the end she gave him 500 Rupees, nearly a weeks wages for him. He looked down and at first was shocked, but he gave the most wonderful smile, and that made it the best journey ever.
Next stop Khajuraho.