We were pretty psyched for our morning visit to the Taj Mahal. I couldn't resist having my picture taken with guards at the entrance to the ICT Mughal even if flashing the peace sign was beginning to get on everyone's nerves.
Security prevented our van from getting too close. Sunil asked if we wanted to take a tuk tuk or a tourist bus. We opted for a tuk tuk.
Do you remember the Doyle, Dane & Bernbach ad for Volkswagen during the late Mad Men era? It showed more than a few clowns piling into a Beetle to demonstrate its roominess. This video shows how many queens can fit into a tuk tuk: eight, not counting the driver and a young street vendor who proved he could sell souvenirs in any language.
Sunil directed us to the self-affirming line for men.
These schoolgirls were in an adjacent line for native women.
A security guard observed the crowds as they entered. We had to go through metal detectors and a pat down which I suppose explains why they segregated the lines by gender.
The front gate completely obscures the Taj which definitely heightens your anticipation of the experience. It also produced the funniest exchange of the entire trip. Andrew couldn't resist asking "Where are we now, George?" "I don't know," replied George. "Let me ask Chris."
Arabic script frames the entrance.
And here's your first view of the most famous mausoleum in the world, built in the 17th century by the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan for his favorite wife, Mumtaz.
Few things in the world live up to my expectations. The Taj did. It magically floats, perfectly proportioned except for the tombs inside, above the squalor of the surrounding city. It also instantly incites a frenzy of picture-taking. Imagine the sound of a thousand shutters closing all at once and you'll get the idea.
Sunil artfully composed this shot for me based on his experience with hundreds of other tourists who want to document their visit with a pinch. I love the the intruding hand on the right.
Here's most of the group on the bench where a never-to-be-queen Lady Diana once posed.
And here we all are. I just wish Sunil had left a little blue above the gold crescent moon that tops the dome.
Sunil explained at great length how the white marble is inlaid with semi-precious stones. Little did I know, he was warming us up for a sales pitch.
Here's a side view. Note the gauzy slippers that Tom and I are wearing, along with the millions of other tourists. They protect the sheen of the marble and buff it at the same time.
No question about it. The Taj gets you so high you just want a little piece of it. Of course Sunil knew the perfect place: the Uttar Pradesh Crafts Palace, an artisan collective. Count how many times the manager mentions the Taj in his sales spiel.
He also held a flashlight underneath one to demonstrate its luminosity.
My apartment isn't big enough for another table. But this elephant caught my fancy and now adorns my windowsill. Nobody could believe how much I paid for for Mona (named after the elephant Dan rode during our Thanksgiving safari), even after negotiating a 20% discount. And I couldn't believe that Mona had arrived in New York City by the time I stepped off the plane, 8 days later. She reminds me of a white porcelain elephant that my father had purchased in Viet Nam. He used to perch on it while sneering at whatever my mother and I were watching on the "boob tube."
And now for a brief aside. Here we were, 8 men traveling together in a country where homosexuality is barely recognized, although it's quite common to see men holding hands or strolling down the streets with their arms wrapped around one another. Once or twice somebody asked us if we had left our wives and children behind but nobody ever raised an eyebrow even though we never made any effort to conceal the fact that we were gay. It's possible, however, that Sunil knew something was different about us on a subconscious level. After purchasing my elephant, I went outside to find him telling a group of other guides and drivers that we "shopped just like women." Not that he was complaining--he probably collected a nice commission from the more than $5000 in purchases we made.
After our shopping spree and a not-bad lunch at an Agra restaurant, where Sunil introduced us to a delightful palate cleansing combo of sugar crystals and anise seed, we toured the Agra Fort which predates the Taj by nearly a century. Apparently it's a favorite of the local animals. Like this monkey.
And these stray dogs.
Shah Jahan's son overthrew him--perhaps because Dad was rumored to be constructing a black Taj Mahal as his own tomb across the Yamuna River, to be joined with the white Taj by a silver bridge--and imprisoned him in this room for the last years of his life.
Fortunately, the room came with a magnificent, if bittersweet, view.
Here's Matthew inside Shah Jahan's prison. You can tell he's not the pining type.
The Agra Fort isn't quite as well kept as the Taj. Look at this jumble of locks.
Some of the details, however, rival those found in the Taj despite the benign neglect.
This Hindu mother and son agreed to pose.
Sandstone also makes a great backdrop for a self-portrait.
After leaving the Agra Fort we headed to Gwalior. Little did we know our day had just begun, and that it would involve a bribe to pass from one Pradesh (Uttar) to another (Madhya) on a road bumpier than the washboard abdominals of a Men's Fitness cover boy. Here's Kamlesh negotiating the amount of the "toll" after presenting our passports.
Unfortunately, there aren't any pictures to capture the experience of our arrival in Gwalior. Night had fallen. The wedding season, which coincided with the sugar cane harvest festival, had just begun. We detoured slowly through masses of people, mostly men, who peered curiously into our van as we looked backed in amused astonishment, giggling nervously. Talk about fish out of water!
Kamlesh finally found the Usha Kiran Palace, truly an oasis for the exhausted traveller who had no idea what lay in store after the unimaginable chaos of our arrival. It was my favorite of the trip, by far, offering a kind of idiosyncratic luxury. You really could imagine what life during the Raj must have been like sipping a Beefeater's gin and tonic (sans ice, of course) in the magnificent Art Deco bar.
Here's Tom, just before trying to enlist me in some archeological plunder. I'll explain more in a moment.
Chris and Dan weren't thrilled about the location of their room, because of its proximity to an upper class Hindu wedding, despite the desk clerk's insistent assurances that the festivities would end by 11:30 p.m. We could see the tent from our balcony.
Dan's new friend Rakheesh, the sous chef, accompanied us to the wedding, assuring us we'd be welcome.
Can you imagine Americans being so relaxed about four Indians who crashed a wedding in our country? These two boys offered their formal greetings and told us to make ourselves at home.
Soon they were joined by other children, curious about the foreigners in their midst. I hope the one kid will carry on my tradition of throwing a peace sign in nearly every photo.
How adorable is this little girl?
Could this be the mother of the bride?
And just as promised, the fireworks ended by 11:30 p.m. Come to think of it, this day might belong in my list of top 5 travel experiences, too!
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