Arrival in Lhasa

We flew from Kathmandu to Lhasa today - a short but beautiful flight. Even though it was overcast, we had good views of Ama Dablam, Everest, Lhotse and Nuptse all sticking out through the cloud cover. Everything went well for our journey but I'm a bit tired as I didn't sleep well last night. We are dealing with a 2 1/4 hour time difference even though we're virtually directly north of Kathmandu. All of China is on one time zone which works for Beijing but nowhere else. It gets light at about 8:00 in the morning and dark towards 9:00 in the evening here in Tibet. Gotta love the Chinese mentality.

Lhasa has changed enormously since I was last here five years ago. The city has really grown up under Chinese influence and there are lots of new buildings in modern style architecture. There are also all kinds of stores with western goods and clothing for sale. Most of the people in the streets are wearing western clothes and there are many more Chinese here than there were before. However, when I headed down to the Jokhang Temple (the main place of Buddhist worship here) it was just like I had left it. There are still lots of pilgrims in traditional clothing and the energy is fabulous. Of course there are more shops and other signs of modernization, but the Chinese haven't managed to beat the wonderful Buddhist vibe from the people yet. It feels really good to be here and I know it's just what I need after my experiences in India.

We have a busy itinerary for the next couple of days as we tour Lhasa and the surrounding area. The rest of my tour-mates are happy that we are going to be able to accommodate everything that they wanted to do while here, so we're back to being a cheery group. There is one additional woman from California (Laguna Beach!!)who joined us in Lhasa so we are a group of nine now. I think it will all work out well.

On Saturday we leave Lhasa and head west into the more rural areas, so I won't have communication beyond Friday evening. I'll be sure to do lots of journaling while on the road so I'll have plenty of stories and impressions when I get back.

At Home in Kathmandu

My departure from India was uneventful. The taxi was waiting for me when I checked out of my hotel, there was no traffic, the airport was empty and efficient, my flight was on time and we made it safely back to Nepal. Unfortunately I hit a bit of a glitch entering Nepal which required a trip to the immigration office. Even though you're allowed to stay in Nepal for 150 days per calendar year on a tourist visa, none of the points of entry into Nepal are authorized to grant you a visa if you've been here for more than 120 days. I arrived with 118 days behind me and when I leave tomorrow it will be 121 days so they couldn't give me a visa. Of course nobody at the airport actually explained this to me, they just took off with my passport and told me to go to the immigration office across town where I would be reunited with it. It seemed inefficient to travel to the same place as my passport in different vehicles, (and downright stupid to let it out of my sight) so I insisted I travel in the immigration guy's car. Fortunately this guy was able to explain the problem and deliver me to the right place to get it fixed. I have to say that while the immigration guys at the airport were less than impressive, the guys at the office were really great, gave me a free visa, worked things out so that I won't have any problems crossing the border from Tibet by car in a few weeks and expedited all this so it would be done in the few remaining minutes of the business day.

I arrived at my guesthouse to a very warm reception and was upgraded to the second nicest room in the place. I got similarly warm receptions elsewhere in town and visited all my old haunts. I have been fairly busy running around getting things done before I head off to Tibet tomorrow morning, but have loved every minute of being here. It amazes me that Kathamandu was driving me nuts before I left for India - it now feels like a slice of heaven. The touts that used to irritate me all seem so polite and sweet after the liars and cheats of India. I've been walking around with a huge grin on my face for two days.

Last night I met with my tour-mates for the Tibet trip. There are five Aussies (four of them traveling together) and a Dutch couple. The Dutch couple are a bit younger but the Aussies are all closer to my age. Unfortunately there was a problem with flights into Lhasa so four of us are traveling a day later than planned. I knew about this at the time of booking so I don't have a problem with it, but the Aussies just found out yesterday and are hopping mad. I'm really hoping that they're able to deal with it and let it go as it will be a shame if it clouds the whole trip for all of us.

I'll be leaving early tomorrow morning for Lhasa. I know that internet is available in Lhasa, but I'll only be there for a day or so, and given the mix-up with flights, my stay there will likely be very busy. After Lhasa, I don't expect to run into the internet again while in Tibet. I am due back in Kathmandu late on October 4 so will try to touch base very shortly after that. Once again, I am traveling with a guide and will be well looked after, so don't worry about me.

I hope you all enjoy September. Happy birthday to Chris and congrats to my parents on 50 years of marriage.

Photos of India have been posted to www.flickr.com/photos/feelitturn.

Countdown to Take-Off

I'm just winding down my last day in India...hooray! I didn't do too much with my day - browsed around some of the high-end shops but didn't find anything to buy. I'm now convinced that the big manufacturers (Levis, Benetton etc.) have different product lines for this side of the world. Not only are the sizes ridiculously small, but everything is all "tarted up" like the rest of the clothes here. I can't imagine that Benetton's entire line at home would consist of sequined tops and t-shirts with bizarre slogans painted in silver and gold.

Earlier this evening, I wanted to make arrangements for a cab to the airport for tomorrow morning, so made enquiries at reception of my hotel. The conversation went something like this:

Heidi: I'm leaving in the morning and I need a taxi to the airport. Do I have to book one or can I find one on the street in the morning?
Reception: International airport?
H: Yes
R: It's possible.
H: Do I have to book one or can I just find one on the street?
R: What time?
H: 9:00 AM
R: It's possible.
H: Do I have to book one or can I just find one of the street?
R: Okay, you book.
H: How do I book it?
R: You have to do it.
H: How do I do it? Do I call someone or go to a travel agent?
R: 350.
H: How do I book the taxi?
R: It's possible.
H: How?
R: 350.
H: I asked if I had to book a taxi and you told me that I had to do it. How do I do it?
R: I'll do it.
H: You can book it for me?
R: What time?
H: 9:00 AM. Will you book it for me?
R: 350.
H: Will you book it?
R: (head bobble)

The good news is that the train station is only about a kilometre from the hotel so if the taxi doesn't get book, I can likely find one there. The head bobble, for anyone who hasn't been to the subcontinent, is a distinctly Indian thing. They do it in Nepal as well, but it's much more pronounced here. I rather like it - it's not like a nod or a shake, but a side-to-side waggle of the head. It can mean many things, I think, but usually means "okay", "yes" or "thank-you" as we use the word. They don't say thank you over here, and the Hindi/Nepali word for it (danyabad) was invented for westerners who seem to need to say it so much. If they genuinely want to thank someone, it is more a show of respect and they use different words and gestures. The head bobble will be used to say "thanks" for small things like receiving directions or having your food delivered by the waiter. And yes, I find myself bobbling from time to time - I'm sure it will go away once I'm away from the Indian influence.

One more story about a very positive experience I had in India two days ago. I ran into this guy name Robert from California in the street and we started chatting because we both recognized each other from Kathmandu. In fact, I had met a girl from Europe on the plane to Pokhara for my Mustang trek in June and she told me all about this guy Robert that she had met in Kathmandu. She suggested that I should try to find him in Kathmandu as he would be a good guy to hang out with. He is older than most travelers I've met and I guess she thought we'd be a good match, but I wasn't going to walk the streets of Kathmandu asking every older western gentleman if he was Robert. He is making films over here for some children's aid organization but I'm not sure which one. He has done movies about AIDS orphans in Africa and is looking at drug abuse among other things in India and Nepal.

Anyway, when we met, he was on his way to have dinner with a couple from Italy so I went with him. The Italian guy (Vincenzo?) is a psychologist and does all kinds of work all over the world. He is about to start working on a project in Rwanda, teaching the psychology community there how to treat trauma victims from the genocide. His wife is a yoga instructor, originally from the US but living in Italy for 40 years. They spend part of their year in Varanasi where they have a house, but travel all over the world for their jobs and pleasure. They actually spend a lot of time in Toronto and love Canada.

Over the course of the meal, I learned that Robert is planning on doing a movie in Uganda about the children who are forced to join the rebel armies. In addition, he and Vincenzo are going to talk about making another movie about the work he's doing in Rwanda. It was just so inspiring to sit with these people and listen to their stories. It's such a treat to meet other travelers who are older and more professional and who just have so much to say. Their lives are just so rich and full of good works. I only met them for a few hours, but it was definitely the best few hours I spent in India.

Anyway...I must run. The internet cafe is filling up with smoke, which is never a good sign. This time tomorrow I'll be sitting at my favourite Sunday night spot in Kathmandu with a Canadian friend, Chris, listening to some great live music. 18 hours to lift-off.

Are You Bored Yet?

I know I'm blogging a lot these days - I'm sure it makes for less than exciting reading. The truth is that I don't get hassled in the internet cafes and I also really need the connection to home. So here we go with more Delhi stories....

Yesterday afternoon I went to visit the red fort, which is the number one tourist attraction in Delhi. It was really quite underwhelming after the size and beauty of the Agra fort and I didn't stay there for long. Afterwards I wandered along the main street near the fort which is called Chandni Chowk. This is home to Delhi's main shopping area for the locals. There are all these little mazes of alleyways with market stalls in behind this street which itself is packed with shops and stalls. Each section is dedicated to a different type of product: electronics, household items, textiles, silver, stationary etc. It is a real hotbed of activity and after a while I was worn out from being on my feet and battling the hordes in the heat for so long. I hopped in a rickshaw after the usual haggling over the price to get me back to the neighbourhood where I'm staying. It was a long journey down all kinds of tiny alleys and streets, all of which were lined with stalls selling everything you could imagine. It was an interesting journey that provided extensive stimulation to all my senses. I was quite concerned that I had really bartered too hard, given the length of the journey and the difficult maneuvering required by the driver, and resolved to give him some additional rupees for all his efforts. After more than half an hour we arrived at his chosen destination - about 50 feet down Chandni Chowk from where he picked me up! He had essentially just driven me in a big circle through the market and brought me back to where we started. Needless to say, he didn't get a tip or in fact any payment at all. He was surprisingly compliant with that. I immediately got into another rickshaw who took me directly home.

I met up with Shabby (the travel agent from Agra) for dinner and drinks last evening. We met in the hotel lobby and he was all dressed up for the evening. In India it appears that style and fashion are synonymous with glitter and sparkle. This is especially true for the women who adorn their saris with sequins and beads in every colour of the rainbow. The western clothes for sale here are similarly decorated and there's no such thing as a plain t-shirt around here. Everything has writing or designs on it, usually in metallic ink. In short, the tackier it is by our standards, the more beautiful it is by theirs. Shabby was dressed in a nice red button-down shirt with grey pinstripes, a pair of brand-new jeans that were so tight I'm not sure how he was able to sit down, and black dress shoes with narrow square toes that ended a good 4 inches past the end of his feet.

We got into the car (he had a car and driver with him for his business trip) and he presented me with a cheap bottle of perfume, a fake silver anklet, a fake silver necklace, a lovely pink pillar candle and a bright orange wallet to replace the one he assumed I had stolen when I was robbed. Clearly he had a different agenda for the evening than I did. Incidentally, the anklet didn't fit (I think it was probably a bracelet) but he insisted on forcing it onto my ankle so I was walking around with the blood flow to my left foot cut off. Most of these things will make nice gifts for the maids at my hotel in Kathmandu.

There's not really much to report from the rest of the evening. We went out for dinner at a place which I'm sure is considered very cool, but the food was mediocre and they didn't have my first three choices. We then went out for a couple of drinks and didn't get back until quite late. I think he was quite disappointed when the evening ended on a chaste note.

I felt somewhat unwell this morning and stayed in bed for most of the morning. I was wakened up by street noise at about 6:10 and couldn't get back to sleep. Just as I was drifting off at about 8:00, my doorbell rang and woke me up. It was a rickshaw driver from the street who was presumably walking through the hotel ringing every room looking for business. I almost clocked him. I can't believe that the hotel lets guys like this in...he must have slipped past reception or else they're getting baksheesh from him. Anyway, I was unable to get back to sleep so I just watched some TV.

I did some sight-seeing this afternoon but nothing was all that special. I walked through the "Rockliffe" of Delhi, which was nice. It's very pretty, there's lots of shade from the trees and nobody bugs you there.

That brings me up to date. Only one full day of this place left. 43 hours and counting.....

Miscellany from India

A few forgotten stories and ramblings....



At our hotel in Varanasi, there was an elderly masseur who frequently pitched his services in the rooftop restaurant. One afternoon I decided to take advantage of his apparently magic hands and arranged to meet him in my room at a specified time. I put on the baggy t-shirt and boxer shorts that I wear to sleep in, and awaited his arrival. As he was preparing my bed for the massage, I asked him what I should be wearing and he motioned for me to take off my shirt. I complied and lay down on my stomach on the silk sheet he had placed on the bed. He proceeded to roll up the edges of my shorts until they were smaller than a g-string and then startled me by stripping himself down to a very small loincloth. The massage was great - he clambered all over the bed as he did his thing, at times straddling me in our near-naked states. Half way through he asked me to roll over and spread my arms out. There was I was in all my glory as he dribbled oil up and down my cleavage like something out of a porn film. It was a great massage and he maintained strict professionalism throughout, but somehow I just couldn't relax.

*************************************************

During my visit to the Taj Mahal the maintenance guys were mowing the lawn. They use push mowers (no motors) which are operated by two guys. One guy pushes and the other guy steers the mower by pulling on a rope attached to the front of it. I was snapping their photo when they invited me to give it a go. I jumped right in and tried it from both ends while one of the guys took my picture for me. Needless to say, they had their hands out for baksheesh at the end of it all, but I had no qualms about paying them for the privilege of joining what I believe is a very select group of people who have mowed the lawn at the Taj Mahal.

*************************************************


On the way into Delhi on the train, I caught my first glimpses of the really harsh, stark, poverty-stricken India that I was expecting here. There were small communities of "tent" camps set up in various places along the tracks. These were little more that tarps or sheets of cardboard draped over ropes to form fragile shelters. The people were living in total squalor with no possessions at all. As is the case everywhere in India, the train tracks are used as toilets and garbage dumps both in and outside the stations. The rats in the Agra train station could have swallowed one of my cats in a single gulp. I can't begin to imagine what life must be like for the inhabitants of these tent communities.

*************************************************

I ate at McDonald's yesterday. There is a section called Connaught Place in the middle of Delhi which is like a hub with a park in the centre of it and shops all around on three concentric circular streets. It was a joy to find it as you can actually buy stuff from the west there, like books, electronics, clothing and lots of shoes. There are also a few western chain restaurants which are clean, air conditioned and in some cases, licensed. McDonald's doesn't serve any beef or pork for religious reasons, but I was able to have a McChicken burger - my first meat in India. It is really easy to become a vegetarian here, as the veggie options are varied and scrumptious and also because you can see how the animals are kept. Everything that is sacred, and therefore not eaten (e.g. cows and pigs) is treated like royalty. The chickens have a much harder time of it and given what I've seen, I wouldn't eat one under threat of death. The goats look pretty healthy but you never seen them on a menu. I think I'll eat exclusively at western restaurants for my last few days here, as I'm sure the food will be very limited and likely not to my taste in Tibet.

***************************************************

I have been traveling with the same wardrobe for about a year now, and my unmentionables have become, well, unmentionable. I've been unable to replace them since it's very hard to find anything that might fit me, and also because lingerie is sold in market stalls and on the streets here. The clerks/vendors are exclusively male and usually a generation or so older than me. Call me a prude, but I just can't bring myself to buy skivvies under these circumstances. I found an underground bazaar yesterday - it's kind of like a cross between a mall and an outdoor market. There was a store that had western name-brand lingerie, so in I went. The 70-year old gentleman who served me maintained that he was a better judge of my size than I was (he turned out to be wrong), but I still insisted on trying things on before I bought them. After convincing him that trying underwear on over my clothing just wouldn't do, we ended up traipsing around the bazaar looking for a stall that had a private spot for me to change. Imagine my relief when he didn't follow me into the cubicle and check the fit for himself. I am very happy that I was able to pick up one item but unfortunately I'll be wearing tattered briefs for a while yet.

***************************************************

This same bazaar was chock full of leather products, some of which were very enticing. I found it a bit weird that there is so much leather available in a country where it's illegal to kill cows. A closer look and a few sniffs confirmed that they were all made from vinyl cows - I guess it's legal to kill them. I had a similar experience with my perfume, which I was thrilled to find in a few shops here as I had just run out. The bottles had clearly been refilled with a knock-off and didn't even have the same colour much less the same scent. I could have got a good deal though....

****************************************************

When I took the bus to Fatehpur Sikri from Agra, I was amused to find that the bus didn't actually start with the use of an ignition key. Several men got out and actually pushed the fully-loaded bus across the parking lot at the bus station until the driver could pop the clutch and get it running. Later when were stuck in traffic the bus stalled. Half a dozen or so passengers had to get out and push the bus down the crowded street to get it going again, with horns from other vehicles blaring all around us. TII.

****************************************************

73 hours to lift-off.

Journey to Delhi

The day that I last wrote was indeed spent by the pool. It was really lovely to just relax and read and swim. It was so hot that I did much more swimming than reading...even just lying still with my book had me melting into puddles of sweat within a few minutes.

I had booked a train ticket to Delhi with a travel agent near the hotel and went back to pick it up at 6:30 in the evening as directed. When I got there not only was the ticket not ready but he said he had to bump me up to a higher class because the seat that he had previously assured me was confirmed, apparently wasn't. Of course he wanted more money, which I had to pay him because there was no other option. Another wonderful mood enhancer.

That evening I had a few drinks with the men in shop next door. A shop owner from across the street that I hadn't previously met was there. He was full of wisdom and insight (in his own mind) and decided to share all of this with me. I wonder if his views on traveling in India would have been different if he was a blond western woman rather than an Indian man. I learned recently that only 61% of Indians are Hindu, which was quite surprising to me. About 20% are Muslim and the remainder mixed. One of this guy's lines was that God is everywhere in the world but spends most of his time in India.

Later on, Shabby, the travel agent, took me for a drive to a park on the other side of the river to get the night views of the Taj Mahal from the back. I know what you're all thinking, but it was innocent and we really did just enjoy the view which was really lovely.

Yesterday morning I got myself packed and went to pick up my train ticket. Of course the guy wasn't at the office and had taken my ticket with him, so I had to sit there for half an hour waiting for him to come back. I truly don't know what, if anything, is going on in their heads here. After lunch I set off for the train station. The train was only delayed by about half an hour, which is somewhat of a miracle here. In fact they only print "estimated time of departure" on the ticket, so I'm not sure if there's any effort to run according to a schedule at all. The train was about 60 cars long, only one of them was 2nd class A/C and there was no way of knowing where that car might be. I started walking the length of the train and when I was about a third of the way down, it started pulling out of the station. I had no choice but to jump for the nearest door and hold on along with the half dozen or so other people doing the same thing. I had my backpack on my back and my day pack on my front and just held on for dear life until I could scramble my way into the car. It was a sleeper car, the lowest class available here, and was packed to the rafters with people sitting, lying and standing three and four deep on the seats and in the aisles. I stood there jammed in like a sardine for about an hour until we got to the next stop and I was able to jump out, run down the platform and find the 2nd class car.

The rest of the ride was actually quite pleasant. I was sitting with a very intelligent and lovely young American woman who kept me well entertained throughout the journey. The train spent a considerable amount of time just stopped in the countryside so we were about two hours late getting into Delhi. These prolonged stops in the middle of nowhere are normal here and I can't quite figure them out. When we got to Delhi, none of the taxi or rickshaw drivers had ever heard of my hotel, and I didn't have an address for it since Shabby had booked it for me. I got quite a tour of the city before I finally found it.

Accommodation in Delhi is very expensive compared to the rest of India (or Asia in general for that matter). I'm in a very average hotel room in the bazaar area of town where the backpackers hang out. The room wouldn't go for more than $10 anywhere else in India or Nepal, but it's costing me about $30 per night. The luxury that I was hoping to have here would cost me more than it would at home, so this will have to do. At least it's relatively clean and the A/C is excellent.

So far Delhi looks like it will be easier to take than the rest of India. It is filthy, crowded, noisy and smelly but the people seem to be leaving me alone here much more than elsewhere. I think I can handle everything else if I'm not hassled quite so much. Of course I've already been scammed once - I went out buy a beer last night to drink in my room and was given an Kingfeesher instead of a Kingfisher. The latter is the standard brew of India and is quite good, the former tasted like...well, just nasty. I can't believe that they're even knocking off beer now. Live and learn.

There are still some untold stories, but they'll have to wait for another sitting.

97 hours to lift-off.

Fatehpur Sikri

After I signed off last time, I chatted with my hosts for a while. An older gentleman played sitar for a while which was quite lovely. The store owner, Raj, offered to take me to dinner so off we went. On the way, we had to stop at the home of one of his relatives, as there was a big family event going on. His brother was getting engaged, and the two families were involved in negotiations. They were deciding on the wedding date, which must be auspicious and agreed upon by both families. I assume that the financial arrangements were already completed at this point. We went to the house and I was ushered into the room where the women all were being kept. We sat on the beds and we all introduced ourselves, but conversation went no further than that. A couple of the younger ones spoke English but were too shy to use it with me, and given that I know three words in Hindi, none of which had anything to do with the situation at hand, we didn't have much to talk about. We only stayed for a few minutes but it was really neat to experience this type of event first-hand. We grabbed a quick meal (it was getting late and the restaurant wanted to get us out quickly) and then he dropped me back at my hotel.

Yesterday I had a leisurely morning and then caught a bus for Fatehpur Sikri. This is a city about 40 kms outside Agra and is the home to a ghost town composed of 500 year old ruins. When these buildings were built, it was the capital of the area and the king lived there, however there are limited water sources there, so once the king died, his successor moved the capital to Agra. I find it a bit odd that the king didn't factor water into the equation when he was choosing a spot to build his capital city.

There is a huge and very beautiful mosque there which is still in use. It looks more like a fortress and is a walled compound with a large courtyard in the centre. There are various spots for worship within the grounds. A sign at the main gate announces that there is no commerce allowed in the area which was a welcome, if somewhat brief, relief. I could hardly read the sign for the vendors who had their wares draped all over it, and the place was full of hawkers and touts. Every one of them, just like everywhere else in India, were "not guides" and didn't want money. The plan is to provide you with all kinds of services under the guise of just being friendly and then hound you for money at the end of it all. For the most part I don't get sucked into these schemes, but sometimes the touts just seem so sincere that I believe them. This usually happens when a holy man blesses me in some way and then demands baksheesh. It really annoys me when this happens and I'm not even aware that a service has been performed. In Nepal at least the holy guys ask first before swiping a tiki onto your forehead, so you get a chance to duck out. Not so here.

My visit to the mosque was absolutely horrendous - I just could not escape the touts and vendors. It really was a shame because it would otherwise have been such a beautiful place to visit. One guy who was a student (not a guide!) refused to leave me alone and actually told me that I wasn't allowed to walk around alone and that he was obligated to follow me around and talk endlessly at me. I asked to speak to his boss and the guy was stupid enough to take me to someone who got him off my back for me. Next it was a gaggle of little boys who did the same thing. It's harder to be rude to the little kids, but honestly they're just as persistent and annoying, even if they are cute. So it went for the next half hour or so until I couldn't stand it anymore and had to leave.

We had to leave our shoes at the entrance, which is standard in most temples in Asia, so I threw mine in the pile at the doorway. When I left I was chased half way down the steps by the same student from inside as well as another guy. I was expected to pay them for watching my shoes. I argued for I don't know how long with them and drew quite a crowd. Clearly locals were not paying for the privilege of throwing their shoes in a pile and I knew I was being ripped off. Finally, when it became clear that these guys were going to follow me and demand money for the remainder of the day, I paid them off but not without a verbal blasting about being thieves and liars. When I handed over the money, the student said in a very quiet and humble voice, as they always do when they're extorting money from you, "as you wish". It was so clearly not "as I wish" that I almost belted him.

The next stop was the ruins of the palace and fort. It was a little better here, once I got through the mass of touts at the entrance. Still, it was really difficult to enjoy as even the Indian tourists were giving me a hard time. They would deliberately get into the way of my photos and have a good laugh over it. At an algae-filled bath, a kid wanted money to jump into the water. His pimps were calling him "Acapulco Boy" even though the leap was only about 10 feet.

I had one positive experience when a group of boys asked to have their picture taken. They posed beautifully, really enjoyed looking at the photo and all shook my hand and thanked me afterwards. If it wasn't for these very rare little glimpse of goodness here, I'd be going out of my mind. This place is really starting to wear me down. I had a long wait for the bus back to Agra which was packed to the rafters and turned out to be the milk route, so by the time I got back to town I was really drained. I went to the shop next door to use the internet, but their server was down so I had to go somewhere else. The shop guys all wanted me to join them for the evening but I just couldn't face it so I just went back to my room.

I'm going to spend the day today just lounging by the pool and reading. I really need a break from the masses. I'm trying to get a train to Delhi for tomorrow but they all seem to be booked. I know there's some weird kind of quota system here and even though the website makes it look like the trains are full, they're not really. I'm not sure how this works and will have to try to sort it out today. One of the guys from the shop is a travel agent and will be in Delhi for part of the time that I'm there. He wants to take me out on Thursday night - I thought it would be fun to see the city from the Indian perspective. Imagine my surprise when I got an e-mail from him asking me to book him a hotel room while I was booking my own. I'm all for cultural differences, but I just can't seem to wrap my head around this one.

Taj Mahal and Agra Fort

I got up at 5:00 AM and got myself ready to catch the sunrise at the Taj Mahal. I started to walk over and was accosted by the usual gaggle of rickshaw drivers. One drove by and said that he was on his way to the Taj Mahal anyway and would take me there for free - he figured it would bring him good luck. I was so touched to finally encounter someone in India who was not on the take that I happily took the ride and rewarded him with a few rupees.

I have never had a burning desire to see the Taj Mahal and since I've been in India have sort of been treating it as something to "cross off the list". I was therefore quite surprised when I stepped through the red sandstone gate, saw the mausoleum at the end of the campus and broke out in goose bumps. Tears even came to my eyes - I don't think that any building (even the Potala Palace) has had such a profound effect on me.

The building, and in fact the entire campus, is perfectly symmetrical, which really appeals to me. As you all know, it was built by a king for his wife after she died and her tomb is placed exactly in the centre of the building. After the king died, his son had a tomb for him put beside his wife's. The king's tomb is the only thing in the entire building that is off-centre and it seems really weird. Father and son didn't exactly see eye-to-eye and I wonder if the son put his tomb there just to mess up the perfection of his father's creation.

I found the building to be much more intense and beautiful from a distance. I'm not sure how to describe this - I guess you just need to see the building in its entirety to really appreciate it. It was nice to see the detail and workmanship up close, but the building seemed to lose its personality at close range. I spent a lot of time sitting on a bench quite a way back just looking at it. The energy there is really wonderful. It was virtually impossible for me to feel like I was visiting a mausoleum - the whole atmosphere just oozes love.

In all, I spent about five hours there. They have a small museum which houses some examples of the stones that are used in the building, as well as some other artifacts from the time it was built. The best part is that they actually have the original drawings of the building - in essence the blueprint - which I thought was very cool. Unfortunately, I couldn't take photos in the museum and I haven't been able to find a photo of this drawing anywhere else.

After I left the Taj, I stopped and had a bite of brunch and headed over to the Agra Fort. This is a very large fort, which was used by the same king who built the Taj as well as many others. It is a combination of architectural styles, about half of which are in the same white marble as the Taj Mahal. It was a very impressive compound.

I was pretty worn out by the end of the day so headed back to the hotel. My rickshaw driver was a really cute old man who badgered me relentlessly about going to the bazaar. They have these deals where if they take their fares to a store, they get "baksheesh" (kickback) from the store owners. I had to argue with him all the way home to convince him not to stop. It's too bad for him - I so liked him in the beginning that I was going to give him some extra rupees, but he irritated me so much that I just paid him the agreed price.

Back at the hotel I went for a swim and read by the pool for a while. It's certainly not Club Med, but the pool is clean and it was really wonderful to just float around in it to escape the heat and humidity. All in all it was a very nice day.

I must run now although I know I've forgotten a bunch of stuff. I'm in the same shop as yesterday and this time the owner and his friends have bought drinks to share with me. (I get vodka and Fanta.) They were very generous with me last night and again tonight, so I think I should sign off and chat with them for a while. I'm sure the store owner has an ulterior motive, but nothing I can't handle :-).