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| TAJ MAHAL |
| KHAJURAHO |
| After a red-eyed arrival in Bombay and a similarly delirious 2AM transfer to Delhi, I started my India visit by emerging from the relative sanctuary of Delhi airport into a sea of cloth-wrapped bodies lying on the ground outside the terminal - a somewhat different scene having just departed Zurich, Switzerland. It seems Delhi can be cold in the Winter months (by India standards, that is) and people were huddled together for warmth. It was still January and a wet polluted mist filled the air outside as various taxi and rickshaw drivers went about their daily business of hustling me into their cars. I already had a pre-paid taxi voucher, but you know everyone will claim to be your appointed driver or offer a better deal. No time to lose in putting on the "Asia-head" and preparing to deal with hassles. I ended up in a rusty old Morris Minor with broken-out windows driven by two young men wrapped in blankets and carrying sticks. The car broke down on a dark dusty road and they had to tinker under the bonnet and push-start it a couple times and stop for fuel, but eventualy we made it to the Pahar Ghanj area where most backpacker-types seem to go. Being still only 5AM the places I had in mind to stay were still shut, but I found a place for a ridiculous price of 700Rs (15USD) knowing I would only stay there one night and get something cheaper the next day. I also had to find a way for Marion to meet up with me, who was arriving on a seperate flight, so I left a note at the agreed place and went to sleep. Seemingly only moments later there was a pounding at the door and Marion's voice - cool. We slept a bit more and then walked out into daytime Delhi. |
| It's so easy to feel conspicuous as a "European" when first arriving in such a place, knowing how relatively "wealthy" you are and seeing so many people with so little possessions living in a relatively unclean habitat. Although I had brought only very simple drab clothing, I had the feeling of wanting to become a bit more "dirty" just to acknowledge the way of things here and not appear so "fresh off the plane" as I was. Coming to terms with this disparity of wealth and to step away from western perceptions are issues every traveller deals with at some point in such countries, and I probably contemplated these throughout the journey. However I resolved early on that I wasn't going to try to apologise for coming from a wealthy society and I wasn't going to pretend to be anything other than myself. It seems fully possible to maintain this self-respect while also respecting and participating in the culture at ground-level. It is another matter of getting other people to respect you if you come from the "West", when you are sometimes unfortunately seen as a walking dollar sign who is ignorant or easily persuaded. First I think you have to accept that you will always be a foreigner, even if you stay for 10 years and try to dress like and Indian peasant (which many backpackers so hypocritically do), and second I think you have to adopt an air of impermeability which says you are cautious/ not afraid yet confident/ not aggressive. These thoughts were prevalent during much of the first few days and continue to be very appropriate points of discussion with other travellers. |
| I realised in the light of the first day that I hadn't really noticed I was in India until then. The process of arriving fatigued and hassling my way into a taxi and a room the previous night was sort of dreamlike now, and the streets had been dark, dusty, and lifeless. But now as we walked out into the day there was that initial culture shock of being somewhere absolutely different from the place I'd left the day before. My reaction was to laugh - I mean we were just so clearly in India - the smells of indian food and burning cow dung, the sounds of auto-rickshaws and Hindi music, and the sights of frenzied movement and of course many cows shuffling along the streets. I just love it when a place so thoroughly supports its own stereotype. |
| View from one of the 40-metre towers of the Jama Masjid, the largest mosque in India, built of marble and sandstone between 1644 and 1658. You have to be a man or be with one to climb up here. |
| Another view from the tower, with the vast Red Fort in the background. It was our first real day in India, so we were getting used to being followed, hassled, and stared at everywhere we went. We were safe up here for a while. |
| On the ground views of the interior square of the Jama Masjid where privileged children conduct their studies. |
| After Varanasi we went to Khajuraho and then Agra (& the Taj Mahal)... |
| Looking appropriately scruffy and relaxed at sunset in Khajuraho. (the beard had to come off soon after!) |
| On our train ride out of Delhi, Marion tucks into the Special Thali served on board. This is luxury. |
| After Varanasi, Khajuraho was a nice escape from big city congestion and sensory bombardment. Here the pace of life for most people is quite laid-back. |
| This is what virtually every tourist in Khajuraho comes to see - quite impressive 1000 year old temples. We got bicycles for the day and went around to visit many of them. In addition to the "Golden Triangle" of Delhi/Agra/Jaipur, which is the main route for people on package holidays, many tourists make a side-trip here. Unfortunately, this has led to vastly increased entry fees into the main temple complexes, so we skipped that and cycled off into the countryside. |
| I didn't take many photographs in Delhi. We spent our time adjusting to India, walking the streets, and arranging our transport out. We left after a couple days on a train to Allahabad to witness the Kumbh Mela festival, and to then to Varanasi. |
| Getting there: By this time we had been to Delhi, the Kumbh Mela, and Varanasi, and were enjoying amazing feelings about India. However, sooner or later you're bound to have your first bad experience. Mine was the "Train Ride From Hell" between Varanasi and Satna, en route to Khajuraho. We got a cheap night train which left around midnight and arrived sometime in the early morning. It was my first experience with a 3rd class sleeper train in India, and believe me - unless you are prepared, "sleep" has nothing to do with the experience. At every town on the way (and there were many) the already noisy bumpy train creaked to a halt. At each station there was unbelieveably loud distorted Hindi music blasting out of cheap plastic speakers (It just wouldn't be the same on good equipment!) and beggars and touts boarded the train and persistently hassled me for baksheesh or to buy something. If I pretended to be asleep they shook me or poked me or tried to take something off me, and then wouldn't give up until I practically pushed them away. During the entire ride boys selling tea were walking up and down the corridor shouting "chai! chai!" every three seconds, as though I would never want to go an instant without knowing it was available. The smell of urine prevaled throughout the journey, as though people were simply relieving themselves on the floor (and I wouldn't be surprised in retrospect). But here's the curious thing: It seemed that none of the other passengers minded all the noise and disturbance at all and many people slept motionless. From this night I could see even more clearly that Indians generally don't have a sense of privacy or personal space or consideration for others when they travel or are otherwise forced into each others space. Life goes on as the old saying here goes - "full power 24 hour" and if you want to sleep or be left alone, forget it - especially if you are a tourist. In future journeys, I either took a bus, where there is still ear-splitting Hindi music but at least no one hassles you, or a first-class train. In fact the definition of first class here seems more related to isolating you from the hassles, noises, and smells outside than it is to do with an increased luxury of accommodation. Whatever you do, bring ear plugs and a sense of humour. |
| Escaping to the open country outside the town was a very good idea, and one of the more relaxing of our days in the north. We cycled for several hours and enjoyed more of the "real" India I hoped to see. People would wave hello and of course stare a bit, and a couple of kids chased after us shouting "hello chocolate!" and things like that, but at least we were always free to move on and most of the time there was no one around anyway. We stopped at a chai stall on the way back and the guys running the place seemed really amused by us. They probably get one European customer dropping by every couple of years. |
| Khajuraho did have a dark side, however. Of course there were people at the entrances to the temples hassling us persistently to buy their crappy souveniers, and there were busloads of tacky tourists with Taj Mahal t-shirts. But also there was abundant evidence of the food chain in action. One place on our bike ride was a sort of cow death yard where the skeletons of many cows were piled up. Of course they don't kill the cows, but when they do die of other causes I guess you can't have them lying around rotting in the town streets. Otherwise you would get packs of vultures like these everywhere, who in this case were taking turns gnawing on a rotting cow corpse just outside one of the popular temples. Yummy! |
| A nice conclusion to our Khajuraho visit was this sunset over the Shiv Sagar lake, producing a nice reflective image. I caught these two guys sharing a special moment together, ha ha. It's true though that you often see pairs of men walking or sitting together, often holding hands or putting an arm around one another. Let's face it, men and women have virtually no chance of friendships with each other in this society. The only relationship allowed between a man and a woman is marriage, and that seems to sadly not incorporate much in the way of friendship as far as I can see. So men stay friends with men and women with women, and coincidentally gestures of affection between same-gender friends are not considered taboo as in western society. |
| We got a bus to Jhansi and then the allegedly luxurious "Shadapdi Express" train service to Agra. Then got a ride to a guesthouse right next to the Taj, which was the reason we came here to begin with. The plan was to spend one night, then see the Taj at dawn and get out of Agra by evening. Agra is a chaotic city full of hassles and tourists and polution (the Yamuna River, which runs through it has been declared officially "dead", i.e. incapable of sustaining life) and we hoped to move on to Rajasthan as soon as possible. But first - the Taj Mahal... We started of the morning with entering the walls of the palace complex. It costs 20 US dollars to get in - a whopping sum by India standards (especially when you learn that Indian nationals only have to pay 20 Rupee), and this cost deters some people, but if you've come this far you just have to see it, and they know it. |
| We arrived before sunrise, and at first all you could see was the massive faint sillouette, but even the shape of it was undeniable - you know where you are and that it is somewhere of greatness. Then as the sky brightened, the Taj was slowly revealed. Cool! |
| Looking to the right we saw the sun come up as a red ball which cast a pinkinsh light on the temple and surrounding structures. |
| The surface of the Taj seems to take on new characteristics with each phase of the sun, ranging from grey and matted to pink and textured to white and gleaming. |
| I was pleased to see at least as many Indians as there were non-Indian tourists here. This included people on clearly a religious visit or pilgrimage and families just out having a nice day in beautiful surroundings. |
| While we stroll among the ivory towers of one of the worlds great wonders, down below along the river it's business as usual for the local people washing their clothes and laying out neat rows of cow dung to dry in the sun. |
| Please note: There is someone standing in this picture ^ |
| It may look like a strange religious custom to lie on your side and stick a leg in the air, but in fact it's the place to be for good reflections on the water, like the one's at the right. Actually I don't know what it is with the leg thing (???) |
| Well we acheived our goal, saw the Taj at sunrise and throughout the intensifying sun and heat, and eventually busloads of tourists showed up and we knew it was time to go. Still there was always that feeling of looking at the Taj and saying "maybe just one more picture". I remember as we stepped out of its view I looked over my shoulder again and happily concluded that one more look would never be enough. |
| Then we got a bus to Jaipur and onward the next day to Pushkar in Rajasthan... |