(Note: read the previous post, below, if you want to hear about the trip in chronological order. Background: We had exactly 24 hours from when we flew in to Delhi, to when were scheduled to fly to Bangalore, in which to drive 5+ hours each way to see the Taj Mahal in Agra.)
Early Monday morning, we arrived... in
India! The humidity was instantly noticeable, but wasn't intolerable (it was only a bit after 8am when we got outside of the airport) and actually seemed nicely familiar to this Midwesterner. (Stay tuned... my take on that will be changing shortly.)
After connecting with our driver, we all clambered into the van that would take us on the 5-hour trip to Agra & the Taj Mahal. Before even leaving the airport, it was clear we were a curiosity, and people had no qualms about staring openly. This made me most uncomfortable on the drive, when some of those driving alongside and openly gaping probably should have kept their eyes on the road.
While walking out to the van, I learned the first thing about traffic in India: pedestrians do not necessarily have the right-of-way. I guessed on this one, rather than actually testing it out and getting potentially run over. The second thing about traffic in India, I learned once we hit the road: that lanes (and sometimes even directional sides of the road) are more of "suggestions." I've never seen anything like the traffic we wove through that morning-- commercial trucks, 3-wheeled open, motorized rickshaws, personal vehicles (though not so big as in the U.S.-- we passed by a Honda Accord and it looked enormous), tourist and public buses, and more motorbikes than could be counted (bearing everything from businessmen and students on the way to start their days, to women sitting side-saddle behind the driver, calmly rummaging through their bags or fixing their hair, to babes in arms and small children crouched on the footrest)-- all weaving together in a crazy, slow-moving progression of humanity down the road. I sometimes feared for other people' lives, though never our own (good driver!), and we only got rear-ended once.
There was a lot to see other than the traffic, as well-- people waiting in crowds for public buses, children playing outside of tarp tents by the side of the road, western ads over crumbling architecture, rural farming fields with men herding cattle and women piling huge bundles of grasses atop their heads, men and children sleeping in the median.
But that's not the only thing in the median-- that's where I saw my first Indian cow! Many more followed-- resting or standing in the median, by the side of the road, in yards or fields-- and, occasionally, standing or laying
in the actual road itself. A few were chained in yards or attended by someone, but most appeared to be just hangin' out. Of course, here I must include the other critters I saw that day: many a street dog, a number of horses, a few goats, a handful of donkeys (actually, it was one of these standing at the roadside leaving the airport that our first real Indian livestock experience), several camels, several kinds of birds that I wasn't familiar with, as we got closer to Agra, quite a few monkeys, and on the return trip-- peeking its head out from a concrete slab atop a heap of construction debris-- one big, brown rat. Oh, and the brown cobra the kid was snake-charming at the place we stopped for lunch (which was an experience in itself, with no one to help guide or translate for us-- it took us a while to convince the gentleman that some of us did want the veg-- not the non-veg-- thali, and we never really did figure out how much tip was expected). At another brief roadside stop, a couple of men brought their chained monkeys and placed them on the sides of the van, of course wanting money to take pictures.
Another lesson about India: "no" apparently is also taken as a suggestion, at least if you're an American (who is assumed to have money). It can get very uncomfortable when someone-- especially when that someone is a child-- persists and you have to keep saying no, or not respond at all and try to continue walking past them.
Honestly, by the time we stopped for lunch, our communication difficulties pushed me over the top and I was feeling a bit overwhelmed-- a bit surprisingly to myself, since I do pretty well in situations where I know to expect the unexpected, in general.
A couple hours later, we'd reached Agra and our tour guide (whom we hadn't known to expect) boarded the van and took charge. He'd already purchased the needed tickets to enter the Taj Mahal grounds, which included water and shoe covers for each of us, and had a game plan for the day: Taj Mahal, and then the Agra fort. He even gave us a detailed rundown of what we could or could not bring in with us-- an inclusion we appreciated after going through the screening line, and hearing another American traveler throwing a big of an ugly-American fit over some restricted item that she didn't want to have to bring all the way back to her vehicle. Speaking of which, getting to the actual Taj Mahal gates was an adventure, too-- our first experience of trying to dodge that crazy traffic to get across the street alive!
To go to the Taj Mahal, you first enter through an outer gate into a courtyard (one with monkeys traipsing about atop the buildings, of course). As we approached the East gate, which takes you down onto the lawns in front of the Taj Mahal itself, it was all I could do not to cry. What an amazing privilege, to be on the other side of the planet from home, getting to bear witness to one of the beautiful wonders of the world. We will-- and already had-- seen much that is hard, ugly, and saddening on this trip, and it was really nice to see such a spectacular display of human creativity, beauty and devotion.
Our guide was very organized and knowledgeable-- and did a good job of such details as making sure we knew the restrooms were free, lest entrepreneuring locals succeed in charging us for them (one western toilet and no t.p. = not worth a price, any way) and shooing off potential pick-pocketers and over-zealous people trying to take our picture to purchase, or sell us Taj Mahal snowglobe keychains-- and even though sometimes I felt a bit rushed and overwhelmed, I was glad that he was with us. He told us a lot about the design of the buildings, including about the symmetry & balance, and all the local & imported semiprecious inlaid stones that makes up the ornate detailing on the buildings (inside & out), and the optical illusions used to maintain the appearance of symmetry and balance from different vantage points. It was all very interesting, though what still really struck me most was just the pure stunning beauty of the place, from the glimmering Taj Mahal itself, to the ornate gate, matching mosque and guesthouse, and other structures on the ground, to the lush gardens filled with raucous parrots and pale, tree-climbing chipmunks (which our guide informed us that they call squirrels).
Inside the Taj Mahal itself, however, was crowded and very stuffy on the very humid day, and I had sweat literally pouring down my body before we had seen it all-- so stepping back out into the open air-- still humid, but cloudy and graced by an occasional light breeze-- was a great relief.
Perhaps the most amusing moments at the Taj Mahal were the people who wanted pictures with us-- not the poor beggar children who wanted us to pay to take their pictures, but the Indian adult visitors who wanted the novelty of being photographed with the Americans. While Karrie and I lounged at the edge of an outdoor corridor, waiting for the others in the group to conquer the squat toilets, a pair of men came up and took turns taking each other's picture in between us (planted directly in front of the "toilets" sign). Later after Angela, our third redhead, had joined us, we had a large group approach us and ask to take their picture with us. The women all squeezed in among us-- I think Brad got a picture of this group, too, so I hope it turned out (I have yet to see it). I felt like the costumed Disney princesses at Disneyworld, or a celebrity. We didn't feel uncomfortable with people who just wanted to take our pictures in that sense, though-- after all, we'd had a lot of Indian people in our pictures that day, as well.
After a brief but fun journey on the back of what was essentially a golf cart (racing down the street) back to our bus, an unsuccessful pass by the Agra fort (it was reportedly closed, which was ok since we were all tired and it had just started raining anyway-- and actually, I'd gotten some pictures of it on the way into the city, because it was a cool-looking building), a bit more history from our guide as we circled the fort in the rain (through which I was desperately trying to keep my eyes open-- the utter exhaustion having finally caught up to me, all of a sudden) a visit to a fascinating marble inlay shop where workmen pass down the family secrets of making beautiful marble and semi-precious stone inlay pieces, through the generations (one table we sat around reportedly takes 4 men, 4 months, working 8 hours a day, 6 days a week, to complete it), some tense moments over 100 missing rupees and-- more importantly-- the fact that the driver's assistant had been found rummaging through some peoples' bags-- we were finally heading back to Delhi.
We were all relieved that we were going to be able to get hotel rooms for the night, as we were all thoroughly hot, tired, and dirty. (Oh, but did I mention that both van rides were
freezing cold? It the AC wasn't on-- and it was mighty efficient, even on "low"-- it poured water all over the driver's assistant, and dripped down over the driver as well. I spent both ways bundled in my blanket, and on the return trip, even with my sweatshirt, I was too cold to really be comfortable.) I dozed on the way back, but-- like one loud clunk on the way there, that I tried (unsuccessfully) to pretend no one had noticed-- my head jerked and banged hard on the window several times. (A couple days later, I had spots on my forehead that were still a bit sore.)
We got back to the hotel around a quarter after midnight, and after handing over our passports (yes, we weren't 100% certain we weren't about to be kidnapped, or our passports held for ransom, but were too tired & dirty to really care) we were shown-- up a marble staircase, I might add-- to our room. The room we 6 girls shared was pretty nice-- more so than we expected-- we had 2 large beds (helpful, since we put 3 people on one of them), a sofa and chairs around a glass coffee table, large mirror, efficient AC & ceiling fans (I actually woke up pretty cold the next morning), and the nicest bathroom we'd seen so far in India (really spacious, too-- could fit at least 4 of my apartment bathroom at home. Not that that's saying much). Um... the bedding was a little creepy, though, I will admit. A few more weird stains than I would prefer, plus some stray hairs, made me not
quite as comfortable as I might have otherwise been. Still, after we all showered (which, let me tell you, made me feel like singing, lukewarm or no), we set the alarms for 4:45am (about 3 hours later, at that point), crawled into beds & couches, and got some rest. I must have slept, because I don't remember hearing the honking from the Delhi streets after that.
When we gathered with the centre staff for devotions and to learn more about the program, we learned that normally they would have class sessions throughout the day, but that today was a special day. Instead of their normal classes, all of the women had come in the morning and had divided up into groups, which were coming up with things to perform in a show before lunch. (We were later told that the women had all worn their best outfits, and that the lunch they all later ate was probably the best meal most of them had ever eaten-- although it appeared quite simple to us, and we had the same thing plus more dishes. And yes, I did feel really quite weird about eating a different meal from the women, seated in chairs in the next room. But we did first get to serve the women, bringing each a paper plate full of the food to where they sat in crowded rows on the floor.)
We also heard from the woman who runs the program a bit about some of the women's stories. In addition to the computer, spoken English, and tailoring/embroidery classes, the centre also has a room where up to 4 women can stay. Two women were currently living there, in addition to one of the teachers. (I'm not going to share the details of their stories here, but let's just say, they would make you cry. No, really.) It was amazing to hear what these women had been through-- and these were not the only examples, or some sort of rare extreme scenario, they just happened to be the two cases currently at hand.
We then moved into the main room, where the women put on all sorts of acts-- dancing, singing, skits. Even without translation at some times, the messages and spirit of their performances were clear. (And the skit that the staff put on, besides being popular with the students, was about the funniest thing I can imagine being put together in a morning-- if they followed the same timeframe that the students had put together their acts, anyway. I about died laughing.) We contributed a rousing rendition of "Father Abraham," and got them to stand up and participate, a second time through-- though I think they were more entertained by the initial experience of just watching all of us dance around.
