I apologize for the long lapse in writing. Somehow, it has been hard to get both the mood and timing right to collect and put all of my impressions in writing. And I certainly don't want to do the job perfunctorily. That's not the point. So, thank you for your patience and please keep returning. The posts are coming. There will probably be one more on India followed by a few on Nicaragua.
Ever since the day we arrived in India, my classmates and I had discussed the possibility of visiting the Taj Mahal if we had some free time at the end of our trip. We had two days left in the country after our return from Shimla and although all five of us had initially been enthusiastic about seeing the Taj Mahal, realizing that we had to catch an early morning train the following day, dissuaded the majority from actually making the trip. In the end, I and a classmate (the one with whom we had the crazy tour of Old Delhi) decided we would make an attempt to go, although we had no train reservations or tickets. The train was leaving at 7:15 the following morning, so we decided to get up early and try to be at the station an hour ahead of time in order to get tickets.
The Nizamuddin train station was a hectic place, but not nearly as crazy as the New Delhi Station (from which we had departed for Shimla). There were only a few people in line and we made our way to the ticket counter quickly. Alas, there was no availability in first class (which is nothing special and seems like the equivalent of second class on US and European trains) so we bought second-class tickets. As we made our way to the train platform, it looked like we were approaching a colorful, moving mosaic. Women of all ages squatted or sat on the pavement in their saris, children ran around, men paced to and fro. We weren't quite sure in which part of the platform to stand to get into the right car. However, the approach of the train quickly limited our options as the colorful crowd surged forward and started boarding the train. The cars that quickly filled up were the 2nd class cars. We managed to grab some seats amidst the pushing and shoving, but then it struck me that the car next to ours was completely empty. I went over to check it out and it turned out that this was CC (chair class) - something in between 2nd and 1st class. A gentleman told me we would have to pay 50 Rps more if we sat in that car with our current tickets. A no brainer given that we were craving some quiet after the few hours of sleep the previous night. We quickly left the crowds and noise and moved to CC.
The trip to Agra (the town where the Taj Mahal is located) was pretty uneventful except for my classmate's attempt to buy bananas at one of the stations. A vendor was selling bananas on the platform and when she asked how much one cost, he told us 10 Rps (approx. 25 cents). It seemed like we were definitely getting a tourist price given that we had eaten whole lunches in Shimla for 60 Rps. But regardless she asked him for two bananas having readied 20 Rps in her hand. The vendor took the 20 Rps and promptly returned with two bunches of bananas! Apparently, "one" to him meant "one bunch" of approximately 4-5 bananas. Needless to say, we were on a banana diet for the rest of the day.
We had decided ahead of time that we would hire a taxi for the whole day to take us to the major sites in Agra (including the Taj Mahal and Agra Fort). The great (or perhaps most annoying) thing (depending on the circumstance and your mood) about being a tourist in India is that you don't have to look for anything. People find you. As soon as we stepped off the train in Agra we were accosted with tourist guide offers. One guy seemed legitimate enough having shown us a printed price list that included the sites we wanted to visit. The price was also not far off from the one our hosts in Delhi had named - 600 Rps - so we decided to hire him.
We were dropped off as close to the Taj Mahal as possible. However, that still left us with a 10-15 minute walk given that motorized vehicles are prohibited from entering the area immediately surrounding the Taj to prevent the fumes from darkening the building. I was pleasantly surprised to learn this as I didn't witness much environmental consciousness elsewhere while in India. (For example, a man on the train had told us to throw our trash out the window after he saw us wondering where to put it.) I had been warned that the walk to the Taj would be one where we would have to fend off vendors left and right but that wasn't the case. Maybe we had arrived too early in the day or maybe we were lucky to be there during the off-peak season. Regardless, we still had to pay the tourist price for getting in: 750 Rps (approx. $17). (Compared to 20 Rps that locals had to part with.) However, to make this more palatable to foreigners the price included a small bottle of mineral water, shoe covers (for entry into the actual building so you don't have to take your shoes off the way the locals do), and free toilet visits (locals had to pay 2 Rps to use the restroom).
I had wondered whether I would be that impressed by the Taj Mahal given that I had already seen so many photos of it elsewhere (including from friends who had been to India). How different could it be in person? As soon as I walked through the arch of the wall separating the outside world from the tomb, however, I had to hold my breath. Yes, I had seen that sight so many times previously. But seeing it in person was an entirely different experience. What struck me the most was how dainty and delicate the building looked despite being built from solid white marble. Something about its design, the color, the decorative motifs, and the light playing off of it lent it a certain lightness that I had totally missed in the multiple photos I had seen. It's hard to describe. I guess, you just have to see it in person to know what I mean (and I certainly hope that you get the chance). It's a sight that draws you in and doesn't let you go. It was really hard to leave, but a few hours, multiple snapshots, and a rain shower later, we decided it was time to head to the Agra Fort - the second most-visited attraction in Agra.
The walk back to our taxi was not as easy as the walk to the Taj Mahal. All of a sudden, there were a lot more vendors, selling everything from Taj Majal snow globes to whips (!?!). And despite multiple firm "No's" on our part they continued to follow us almost the entire way. What amused me was their pricing strategy. An initial price of 100o Rps would quickly decline to 100 Rps. The more times you said "No", the faster the price would fall. It really made me wonder about the actual cost of producing these goods. In front of the Agra Fort, I made the "mistake" of inquiring about the price of a backgammon board from one vendor. Two seconds later, I was being offered not only the board, but also elephant figurines, ornamental boxes, and postcards. Vendors rushed towards me like vultures to a carcass. After I had decided I would buy the backgammon board and bargained for it, the guy proceeded to offer me a chess board and a second backgammon board. When I told him I wasn't interested, he just handed them to me to look at and then refused to take them back (presumably until I decided to buy them). In the end, I literally had to leave the boards on the ground and continue walking. Vendors' persistence in India is simply amazing.
After the exhausting day of sightseeing, my classmate and I decided to try to find seats in first class on the train ride back to Delhi. We had been told that we could speak to the ticket conductor about any unclaimed seats and simply pay the difference in price between first class and our existing second-class tickets. Speaking to the conductor turned into a long-winded affair (of course). After listening to our query he went off to check for seat availability, telling us that he would be right back....which in the end turned out to be 30 mins later. During this time, we simply stood by the doors of the train and hoped he would come back with good news, because at that rate, we probably wouldn't have been able to find empty seats in second class either. When he returned he announced with a grin that he had seats for us. "Great!" we thought and followed him. We made our way to the back. I didn't see any empty seats. Then the conductor started talking to two women, who looked like mother and daughter. We had no idea what was being said but the result was that the women were made to get up and give us their seats. Uhmmm, not exactly what we had intended. I felt horrible. I was certain the whole car was shooting us "whities" down with their eyes at that very moment. However, the conductor kept smiling graciously and it seemed impossible to back out now. So, reluctantly and guilt-ridden we sat down. It turned out that the mother had a place to sit but the daughter had to stand until another seat opened up. She chose to stand next to us. As soon as the conductor left, I started apologizing to the girl for what had happened and told her we could alternate sitting. She smiled and quickly reassured us with, "Oh, please don't worry, I always travel like this since I never make reservations. Please, you are guests in our country, sit." I was amazed. If this had happened any place else (let alone in Bulgaria), the girl would have been giving us evil looks, insulting us, or scheming how to get us back. (Well, her mother did keep turning around and giving us cold looks almost the entire ride back.) The hospitality and warmness of people in India (and especially of the women) is something I will always remember about the place.
We struck up a conversation with the girl. It turned out that she was an actress (she definitely had the looks for it) and was off to Switzerland the following day for a shoot. It felt somewhat strange to meet someone associated with Bollywood. Yet, when I thought about it, given the scale of the industry, I guess it wasn't that surprising. At one point, as we spoke, the ceiling above me started dripping, right on my head. Every few minutes. My classmate and I started laughing. Guess that's what you get for displacing someone out of their seat. The Bollywood actress tried to keep the water from dripping onto me by holding her hand above my head (can you imagine?!?) But I quickly told her that wasn't necessary. She kept saying, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," as if she had made the ceiling drip on purpose. It was one of those bizarre and surreal moments when you almost can't believe your eyes and yet you know that what you are seeing is really happening. At the next stop some seats freed up, and the actress and her mother moved. We continued to sit where we were, with the occasional water drop falling on my head.
(Later we learned that the Indian train system has such a thing as a "tourist quota" - a number of seats in first class that are reserved especially for tourists. If two people - a tourist and a local - try to upgrade from second class, the tourist has a greater chance of getting a seat if the quota has not been filled. That made us feel slightly better about what had happened, after the fact. Plus, I guess we did get to meet what could be the next big Bollywood star.)
