Of Tigers and Teas

Waking up to another cloudy day in Darjeeling Aaron and I headed out onto the streets looking for a ride to Tiger Hill, however it turned out the share taxis were all out to fleece us from quite a chunk of money - Rs600 for a forty minute round trip, when we had paid Rs1000 for the three-and-a-half hour drive from New Jalpaiguri! Not wanting to miss out on visiting Tiger Hill, famed for its Himalayan vistas (when the clouds are kind enough to part), we opted for a share taxi down to Ghoom for the rather realistic sum of Rs15 (€0.20!), from where we had an 8km trek up to the top of Tiger hill (or so Lonely Planet warned us).

Welcome to Tiger Hill

In Ghoom one finds the end of the Darjeeling Toy Train. The tracks beyond Ghoom have been damaged by a land slide, so the train does a quick shuffle between Darj and Ghoom a few times a day. Other than the toy train station there isn't much to be seen in Ghoom, so we set off following our map and with the occasional pointer from friendly locals to find Tiger Hill and begin our trek to the 2590m summit. The rain clouds did dampen our spirits, but we were hoping that our sacrifice would be paid off by some good karma and a break in the clouds. On good days Tiger Hill offers a 250km view of Himalayan mountains (Darjeeling is about 20km from the border with Nepal), including Mount Everest and Mount Kanchendjonga (the third highest peak in the world). The hill was pretty steep, but at least we had a paved road to walk on, with fields and forests on both sides. I doubt we would have made it up the hill if we had been following a dirt track - the rain was coming down by the bucketful about an hour into our trek.

Off the beaten track - just for the photo!

Some three or four kilometers into our trek we came across a Hindu temple called Sincheal Singh Devi Dam where we stopped for a rest and shelter from the rain. The main entrance of the temple had a long line of brass bells leading to a shrine; Hindu devotees were ringing each bell on the way into and out of the shrine. The pealing of the bells together with the pattering of the rain made this a great place to stop for a rest - it felt like we were in a scene right out of a movie.
We were under the impression that we still had another three or four kilometers to get to the top of the hill, so when we saw a little Maruti toaster van we flagged it down for a ride to the top. We were quite surprised when about 500m and two corners into our ride the van pulled up into a parking lot at the top of Tiger hill! So much for Lonely Planet being always correct! It turns out that the hike from Ghoom to Tiger hill is just over 5km. A friendly Ghurka kept us company while we waited in vain for the clouds to open up. Sky, as we was called, talked about a range of subjects from music to football, and from politics to religion. The clouds did relent somewhat, but only far enough for us to get a tantalizing view of Darjeeling and the surrounding tea estates, but the Himalayan peaks were still obscured by clouds.

Tarzan the monkey

A forest of Prayer Flags

Back in Dajreeling we visited the temple at Observatory Hill. In 1828 a couple of meandering British officers came across the abandoned Dorje Ling monastery and thought that the location would be great for a new Hill Station from which to police the troubled hills. Observatory Hill is where the Dorje Ling monastery was once located. Nowadays it houses a cave shrine to Mahakala, a Buddhist god and one of the many forms of the Hindu god Shiva. The summit is home to many shrines and devotional bells, as well as a veritable forest of prayer flags that provide a playground for the local troupe of macaques. The younger monkeys seemed to take particular pleasure in playing Tarzan with the prayer flag chords.

Inter species dialogue

The local (very friendly) strays also wanted a bit of the attention - in fact a group of three or four strays followed us all round the temple and had a bit of fun chasing some monkeys around.

Happy Valley Tea
On our last full day in Darjeeling we headed down through the town and many narrow alleys towards the Happy Valley Tea estate - the highest and oldest tea estate in Darjeeling; a place that supplies the finest teas to Harrods amongst others. We paid Rs20 to a guide who took us on a whirlwind tour through the factory - not the most interesting of places I've ever visited, partly because there was no work going on, partly because the guide kept rushing through his explanations of the tea process.
Once we'd done the obligatory factory tour we approached an old lady asking for a cup of chai - BIG MISTAKE! The lady politely pointed out that "we don't drink Chai in Darjeeling, we drink TEA" and invited us in for a cuppa and a talk about the tea harvesting process.

Super fine tippy golden flowery orange pick one

Sitting in her living room, surrounded by crocheted cushion covers and stuffed animals, we were presented with four bowls of crushed tea leaves and asked to identify which one was the PREMIUM Darjeeling tea.
It turns out that Aaron knows his teas quite well and promptly recognised the "Super Fine Tippy Golden Flowery Orange Pick One" - I kid you not, that is the name of the tea variety! It is so called because it is super fine, made with the top two leaves (tips) of the tea bush, has a golden colour, and a flowery, orange smell; and of course is the number one pick of Darjeeling tea. According to our host this tea sells for £26 a pop from Harrods, but Aaron, with his expert nose, would not only be able to purchase the tea at wholesale price,  he would also get a bonus for recognising the tea correctly!
Some interesting facts about tea:

• Green Tea, White Tea and Black Tea all come from the same bush - the difference is the season in which the leaves are picked
• Darjeeling tea is made with the top two leaves of each stem
• Common tea is a blend of the lower leaves from the bush
• India's favourite drink, Chai, is made from the powder that falls to the bottom of drying troughs in the tea production process - it is drunk with sweetened milk to cover the bitter taste

With our newfound knowledge of tea we set off into the tea fields for an afternoon of sun worshipping and general relaxation - the clouds were being very obliging today, coming and going intermittently, making for a very pleasant day to spend surrounded by the verdant expanses of Darjeeling's tea estates. In the afternoon we met a wizened, mute man who explained (or so we think) how he planted several fields around us. Our friendly guide showed us down to where the ladies of Darjeeling were picking tea (the fields we were in were not being worked on) so we got a few excellent photos of the ladies at work (while a man holding a colourful umbrella observed their progress).

Our time in Darjeeling was coming to a close, and we still hadn't caught a glimpse of the mighty Himalayas...




Kanchendzonga in all it's might

On our last morning in Darjeeling I stirred at about 4:30am. Something strange was happening outside - through foggy eyes I could make out bright sunshine. After a few seconds my groggy head registered what the sunlight meant. I jumped out of bed and ran to the roof of the guest house. Oh. My. Ganesh! It was the most beautiful, clear morning, and in the distance, poking its way through the clouds, was the mighty Himalayan Kanchendzonga. A mad dash back downstairs, camera round the neck, and a quick rattle of Aaron's bed, and before you know it I was back upstairs clicking away - I had no idea how long the break in the clouds would last, and I wanted to make the most of it.

Mt Kanchendzonga, India's highest peak at 8586m

Aaron finally stirred out of bed and made his way up to the roof - he wasn't really sure why I had shaken him out of his sleep, he said something about thinking the house was on fire, but when he did make it up to the top he was glad he'd woken up! We had about forty-five minutes of unobstructed views of the mountain, and even had a monkey join us in enjoying the view. We're not quite sure what the monkey was doing up so early - it didn't take the biscuits that Aaron offered it, and was nodding off every now and then. Still, it made for a nice scene and some good photos!

For more photos of Darjeeling visit my Picasa Web Albums. If you're on google+ add me to your circles (stevofarrugia at gmail)

I (heart) Darjeeling

Yes, indeed, I do love Darjeeling! Stepping off the train at New Jalpaiguri we could immediately tell we had reached somewhere special: the stifling heat of Kolkata (where we had a 6 hour stopover between trains) was gone, replaced by cooler weather and heavy rain clouds threatening to cool us off even further. It felt like we had been transported to a different country overnight - the faces on the street were looking decidedly more eastern than the ones we had seen in the previous three weeks; the dress was different, even the manners (still plenty of beggars around though).

Rainwater doubles as
toothbrushing water

Getting there
Unfortunately (or maybe not?) in 2010 the Toy Train line (a narrow gauge railway) suffered a land slide, so we had to take a three hour taxi ride up the hills rather than a six or seven hour train. Our trusty Tata ferried us through New Jalpaiguri without any hassle, however before we began our ascent into the clouds the taxi driver asked for half the fair so he could fill up the tank! Up, up and away, we made our way through thick green forest, and up steep winding roads into the clouds.

A break in the clouds allowed us
a glimpse of how high we were going

Somewhere in the grey haze we came across a collapsed road, so the taxi had to detour through a backroad of rough gravel; meaning Aaron, myself and the other passenger had to get out of the taxi and walk for a few minutes. At the top of the hill some Gurkhas who were working on maintaining the gravel road demanded a 100Rs toll from the taxi driver, but he managed to haggle it down to 50. Its nice to see the locals attempting to fleece the locals for a change!

Above the Clouds (almost)
Our taxi dropped us off into a rainy, grey Darjeeling. and guide book in hand we set off seeking some affordable, warm accommodation. A visit to a couple of recommended hostels led us to realise that the whole of the section on Darjeeling in the guide book is completely off - the prices printed were much lower than what we were asked for (and our visit was in the low season). Anyway, I digress... after about half an hour of walking through the streets and meeting more friendly inhabitants of Gorkhaland we finally found an agreeable place - Andy's Guest House, run by the charming Mrs. Gurung. Hot water, carpeted floors, and a viewing terrace on the roof for Rs500 a night - a bit on the pricey side, but the hot showers alone were worth the extra Rs100 over the closest competitors!

We set off into the haze to get our bearings of Darjeeling and find some meaty treats: since Darjeeling is predominantly Buddhist there are a variety of meats for sale, including beef and pork - two delicacies that we hadn't encountered at all in our Indian travels! My first impressions of Darjeeling were of being in a different country - the locals offer friendly smiles, but there is hardly any begging, and the "hello, how are you?'s" were so few and far between that they were negligible. There wasn't even any staring or taking of mobile phone pictures!

Fried pork momos

Our first culinary foray into Tibetan food was an encounter with Momos - delicious Tibetan dumplings, either fried or steamed, stuffed with pork, chicken or vegetables and served with a spicy sauce. Perfect backpacker food: proteins, carbohydrates, warmth and a price to suit every budget!

Darjeeling: Not for bicycles!
On a cloudy day in Darjeeling Aaron and I approached one of the many travel shops in Darjeeling and attempted to rent a Royal Enfield to explore the Himalayan foothills. Unfortunately Indian vehicle rental isn't as lax as it is in the rest of Asia - or maybe it was just this shop - the only way we could rent the bike was with an international driving permit, something that neither Aaron nor I had applied for going on my previous travel experiences.
Not wanting to miss out on what the Himalaya have to offer Aaron and I foolishly rented a couple of wonky mountain bikes. Our reasoning was that Darjeeling, being the highest town (besides Tiger Hill) in the region, would be above the attractions we intended to visit. We'd simply roll downhill to the attractions, explore, then start pedaling slowly uphill. Whenever our aching muscles gave up on us we could simply flag down one of the many 4x4 taxis that ply the Himalayan hills and catch a ride back up to Darjeeling.
Silly silly silly reasoning that was! We spent 45 minutes pedaling UPHILL from Darjeeling towards our first stop. Giggling locals were walking past us, literally barreling towards the temple we intended to visit, while Aaron and I toiled with our bikes. Mine even had the added bonus of the rear tyre rubbing against the breaks once a revolution. Exhausted, winded, with knees on fire, we realised that the hills had beaten us; so, tail tucked firmly between our legs, we set off back downhill towards the demon who had rented us the bicycles to get rid of the infernal contraptions.
Our hour of pedaling hell led us to the conclusion that foot power is the way to see the Himalaya (since we couldn't have the 400cc propulsion of a Royal Enfield), and we settled in for a relaxed afternoon watching the clouds fly by in the heart of Darjeeling.

Check in later to find out about the rest of our adventures in Darjeeling! In the meantime you can see some excellent photos of Darjeeling in my Picasa Web albums.

The middle way

The Giant Buddha Statue unveiled
by the Dalai Lama in 1989

Bodhgaya is a small town that lies roughly half way between Varanasi and Kolkata, in the very poor state of Bihar. There are no train stations in Bodhgaya - the closest station is the city of Gaya, 13km away. Yet Bodhgaya is a major stop on the Buddhist pilgrimage route and sees a huge influx of devotees every year. The Dalai Lama makes a yearly pilgrimage to this holiest of Buddhist localities.
There's a reason for this Buddhist devotion - it was here in Bodhgaya that the prince Siddhartha Gautama achieved enlightenment underneath the Bodhi Tree and became the first Buddha. If you're not into Buddhism and visiting eastern temples, then Bodhgaya is not worth a stopover. However, if you're fascinated by eastern cultures and would like to see the place where one of the greatest world religions was founded, then be sure to visit.
Reaching Bodhgaya was quite an experience - 13km in an autorickshaw is not for the feint of heart, and the authorities in Bihar don't make life any easier. Every so often the road is lined with about 15 "rumble strips" that make the sleeping police we favour in Malta look like blips on the tarmac. On an autorickshaw without suspension, and virtually no headroom this is a recipe for sore heads and lots of cricked necks. Once in Bodhgaya our rickshaw picked up about half a dozen tails - on motorbikes, on bicycles, or on foot - all of them desperately trying to get us to follow them to their guest house. Sadly for them they only got a bit of exercise out of us, as we already had a plan for the night - we would be staying at one of the many Buddhist monasteries that offer lodging for travellers. We found lodging in the Tibetan temple where we were given a very clean room with fan and a shared bathroom for a very reasonable Rs200 (€3.20). There wasn't much interaction to be had with the Buddhist monks - they pretty much kept themselves to themselves, but it was nice to have access to the "behind the scenes" life in a monastery - our lodgings were behind the line marked "No entry beyond this point".

Intricate brushwork at
the Bhutanese temple

On the streets of Bodhgaya (its a very small town) we started on the Buddhist temple circuit, visiting the Nipponji (Japanese) and Bhutanese temples. Bodhgaya provides an interesting juxtaposition of the various temples of worship from all over the world, one next to the other. Its like travelling allover south east Asia in a short 2km walk. Though the basic principles are the same, the devil's in the details - every temple has unique aspects, be it the colourful murals, or the manicured gardens, or in the case of the Thai wat, the innumerable reflective panels adorning it!

The Great Awakening

The main attraction in Bodhgaya has to be the Mahabodhi temple complex  where the first Buddha achieved enlightenment. This sprawling, peaceful complex houses a giant wat surrounded by landscaped gardens and a fish pond. It is in this garden, beneath a giant Bodhi tree that Buddha achieved enlightenment. Below the tree you'll find hundreds of Buddhist devotees meditating. The tree isn't the original one that Siddhartha Gautama sat under, but it is a direct descendant. The Emperor Ashoka's wife, jealous of the attention her spouse paid to the sacred tree, suffered a fit worthy of the Queen of Hearts and killed the tree. As luck would have it, a sapling had been taken from the tree many years before and planted in Ceylon (Sri Lanka); and the Bodhi tree that stands in the Mahabodhi temple today has grown from a cutting taken from the Ceylon tree.

Dungeshwari Cave Temples
For our second and final day in Bodhgaya we decided to brave another long rickshaw ride to visit the Dungeshwari caves, where Buddha spent six years meditating in complete isolation, neither supping nor drinking. It took us a good hour to travel the 20 or so kilometers from Bodhgaya to the foot of the hill, but it was a very interesting (albeit back-breaking) ride through paddy fields and rural villages. Lots of friendly smiles and waving children, as well as the occasional water buffalo lying in the middle of the dirt road.

Lemur!

The forest surrounding the hills housing the cave temple quickly thinned out and we were out in the sun for a 20 minute slog up the steep concrete path. Towards the top we found some more trees for cover, and a languid lemur was sitting in the shade munching on some biscuits. As with all temple complexes, we were harangued by the usual beggars and peddlers of incense and prayer flags. Running the gauntlet, we made our way to the temple proper. Temple is a bit of a misnomer - the cave has pretty much been left untouched since the days of Gautama Buddha: a statue representing a very skinny Buddha after his six years of fasting has been placed inside, and a couple of monks are always on duty to make prayers and offerings with Buddhist devotees and curious western travellers.
Five minutes of chanting, a red dot on our forehead, and some crystallised rice in our mouths (straight form the hands of the monk) and we were feeling suitably blessed and ready to head out and face the world. We even, foolishly, thought it might be a good idea to try to climb to the top of the hill. In the tropical heat, wearing flip flops and trying to weave our way through the trees: NO WAY! After about five minutes we desisted and headed back down to our waiting rickshaw for the bumpy ride back into town.

Moving On
Two days in Bodhgaya went quickly by, but I doubt we would have found many other ways to fill our time had we spent longer in the town. Certainly, we could have whittled away the hours sitting in the shade of the Bodhi tree, but there's only so much sitting around that Aaron and I were willing to do on our three week trip to India. We took a rickshaw back to Gaya four our night train to Kolkata that was running four hours late, but understandably so, as a tree had fallen onto the tracks.

Benares goes Orange

Varanasi - the magical City. Also known as Benares. City of Ghats. City of the Ganges. City of Sadhus. One of the oldest continually inhabited places on earth. The holiest Hindu city in India. The most auspicious place for a Hindu to die... the list of sobriquets could go on and on, for Varanasi is a city of many talents and a rich history. Possibly one of my favourite places on our itinerary. Off the night train, one intense rickshaw ride through city streets that could be anywhere in India, and we are dropped off in the old quarter, close to Dasaswamhed Ghat, the focal point of activity on the Ganges.
Out of the scorching sun, and into the narrow alleys, we set off seeking accommodation. We attracted the ubiquitous guest house tout, who proceeded to trail us (or keep just a step ahead of us) in our wanderings - we asked nicely, we asked not so nicely (and in several languages) for him to desist - we even ducked into a café for ice-cream and iced tea, but he was still there waiting! It was only on the doorstep of the Gangpati Guesthouse that he abandoned us - bounced away at the door by one of the staff!
Free from our backpacks, Aaron and I set off into the afternoon heat with cameras at the ready: Varanasi is teeming with Hindu pilgrims, Sadhus, beggars, cows and picturesque alleys. With Shiva Purana in full swing, Dasaswamhed Ghat was teeming with orange-clad devotees jostling for a chance to dip into the Ganges for the daily Ganga Aarti (river worship) ritual. Varanasi locals wash in the river twice daily, whereas pilgrims carry away flasks of the brown water for use at home (kind of like Catholics at Lourdes) - the waters of the holy river wash away bad Karma you may have accumulated during the day. Beyond the sea of orange, and onto the first steps of the Ghat, we were met with a sight unlike any photo of Varanasi we had beheld. The whole platform had been swallowed by the swollen waters of the Ganges. The mighty river had gone from a placid body of water to a swirling mass of brown - the current was so strong that boat owners were barred from carrying tourists for the mandatory dawn boat ride. The ban didn't stop some boat operators from inflating the prices by 600% (to make up for any baksheesh that may have to be paid to inquisitive police officers) for a ban flouting boat, dangerous boat ride.
On the few steps of the Ghat that were still above the waterline were Hindu holy men and women dispensing Puja boosting flowers and offerings, and Aaron got himself another Tikka on the forehead. Once we'd had our fill of orange-clad devotees dripping in water from the Ganges rubbing against us (maybe we got ourselves some Puja by proxy) we headed into the narrow lanes for some exploration and photography. The Lonely Planet guide book warns you about the "Varanasi shakedown" and how the city is teeming with touts and tricksters, but barring the guest house tout in the morning and a couple of offers to "come into my shop for a look" we weren't hassled. Our explorations took us to a few other Ghats (also flooded) and past many shops with nice trinkets for the folks back home.
Laden with shopping (hand painted t-shirts, window hangings, bags and CDs) and our supply of Rupees considerably whittled down, we made our way past some very angry bulls and back to the guest house. Gangpati guest house deserves a special mention for the friendly atmosphere and awesome balcony rooms overlooking the Ganges. The food from their kitchen is your typical Indian guest house fair - a mix of local dishes with a sprinkling of Indianised Western dishes (everything is flavoured with curry) and some Chinese favourites - also "made from the heart". However the garden courtyard with its fountain, and the rooftop restaurant with fresh breezes and views of the river more than make up for the waiting time.


Manikarnika - The Burning Ghat
When a Hindu dies in Varanasi they are released from the cycle of rebirth. Cremation on the banks of the Ganges and subsequent dispersal of your ashes into the holy waters ensures that you won't come back as a cockroach or a Sadhu, but will attain a blissful state of not-being-but-being-at-the-same-time. Young children and Sadhus are not cremated - the bodies are give up to the currents wrapped in a shroud. They float away if the currents are strong enough. As we came close to the burning Ghat we were accosted by a "priest" (?) who claimed to work in the house of the dying, requesting a hefty donation (he mentioned something about us buying wood for funeral pyres at $13 a kilo!) in order for us to achieve "good karma and appreciate the Hindu culture". When we refused to comply he barred our entry to the Ghat and shooed us away... so we took another alley and approached the Ghat from the opposite direction. Manikarnika Ghat was very different to the Ghat we visited in Agra - there were several cremations going on when we arrived, with more bodies arriving on the shoulders of doms (outcasts who traditionally handle dead bodies) and lots of mourners. A strong feeling of voyeurism overtook us so we beat a respectful retreat. I guess watching the events from a boat at a respectful distance would not have been as uncomfortable.


Kama Sutra - Only for the Flexible!

Away from the Ghats we made our way to the Nepali Kama Sutra temple. This hidden gem is covered in carvings depicting scenes from that oh-so-famous Hindu book, the Kama Sutra. Seeing the sculptures I couldn't help but wonder at the flexibility that some of the poses required! Here we met a friendly Sadhu who gave us some biscuits and told us about his daily routine of prayer and meditation.

The rest of our time in Varanasi was spent wandering the streets, offering alms to beggars and Sadhus (more good Karma!) and sipping cold drinks in our balcony overlooking the Ganges. Our visit coincided with the waters of the Ganges being swollen, so we didn't get the full blown Ghat effect (since most Ghats were underwater); but not many travellers have seen Varanasi in this state. Plus, I've got an ironclad excuse to visit this spiritual city again!

Visiting Agra: Not just for the Taj Mahal

Traveller Lesson #42
Always set up multiple back-up Alarms! On the morning of the 24 July we were scheduled to wake up at 4:45am, for a Rickshaw to pick us up at 5:15 and take us to the station in Jaipur.
Instead of setting a new alarm, I "recycled" one of the ones already on my phone, and set it for 4:45am. What I didn't notice at the time was that the alarm was set to go off on *WEEKDAYS*. As you can imagine, we didn't wake up in time, and our hotel receptionist only saw it fit to come and wake us up to let us know that our Rickshaw driver had grown tired of waiting and left!
So, here we are, standing in the pouring monsoon rain at 5:20am with not an autorickshaw or taxi in sight, and the hotel staff telling us it will take at least 45 minutes to arrange a taxi pickup. Our train departs at 6:20am!
With nothing to lose we set off into the rain, running blindly in the direction of the train station. A taxi parked at the side of the road, but its driver nowhere to be seen. A couple of Indians squatting under an awning, telling us to get out of the rain and sit down. More running in the rain (and with the water about ankle deep). A rickshaw flashes past... it slows down, and we're allowed to squeeze in with some locals! Phew!
We're soaking wet, but we're at the station before our train even rolls into the station. Minor catastrophe averted, and hey, we're riding first class to Agra!

Agra: The Fort
The Mughal fort in Agra was started by Emperor Akbar in 1565, but it was Akbar's grandson Shah Jahan (the one who built the Taj) who made the most additions and turned the fort into the opulent palace that we see today. Good thing he dressed it up as he did too, as Aurangzeb, his son and heir, imprisoned him inside the fort for the last eight years of his life! Aurangzeb was considerate enough to give his father a room with a view of the Taj, so he could gaze upon the monument to his wife.
The fort's perimeter walls and much of the internal structure are made of finely carved red sandstone, but Shah Jahan's additions are in white marble, similar to the material used for the Taj. The fort is very impressive, its location on the banks of the Yamuna, with excellent views of the Taj Mahal, coupled with the overcast (read slightly cooler) weather made for an enjoyable visit. A special mention goes to the creative use of the English language that is used in the informative signs - the English isn't always crystal clear, but it is great fun trying to decipher the messages! The fort provides for plenty of photo opportunities and a bit of an adrenaline rush - many areas have sheer drops that kind of creep up on you as you try to get just the right angle for a photo, and not a single safety cordon to be seen.
Our Rickshaw Wallah was right when he suggested we wouldn't need a guide: armed with a good guidebook and the signage in the fort you can get a pretty decent idea of what it is you're looking at (and good luck trying to find a guide who can make themselves understood in English!).

Agra: City of Tombs
Onwards and upwards, Khan, our Rickshaw Wallah, took us to visit some other attractions in Agra, amongst them the Itimad-Ud-Daulah, also known as the Baby Taj. This mausoleum houses Mizra Ghiyas Beg, grandfather of Mumtaz Mahal (she who is buried in the Taj) and the emperor Jehangir's Wazir (cheif minister). Also sitting on the Yamuna river, it provides a taster for what the Taj has to offer - white marble, finely carved screens and inlaid pietra dura.
Moving on from the Baby Taj Khan took us to visit some other mausoleums, all nicely perched on the banks of the river and tucked away in shady areas. These made for a nice break from the hectic and smoggy chaos that reigned on the streets of Agra City.
Our last stop for the evening was the Mehtab Bagh, or just outside it actually. This park, built just across the water from the Taj Mahal, is the perfect spot to view the sun setting on the Taj Mahal, however everyone knows that you can save yourself Rs100 and walk down to the riverbank, where you'll have an identical view as the one afforded by the garden! A pity we visited India during the monsoon, as the overcast weather we had been so happy with earlier in the day made for a muddy sunset and no amazing colour changes. Ah well, one more reason to visit India again!

The Taj Mahal: Too great for words
The Taj Mahal. You'll have seen hundreds of pictures of it. The forecourt is always thronging with people. A mass of sari-wrapped women and men in kurtas and turbans, lots of camera clicking tourists and the inevitable touts and "guides".
Wake up early, and you'll see none of that! Aaron and I were at the West Gate at about 5:45am, so we were the first inside the complex. WOW! As you can see from the photos - not a soul in sight, except for a tag-along Indian who took us to all the "postcard photo" spots in exchange for a handful of rupees.
I'm finding it hard to put into words the feeling of walking through the outer gate, through the Mughal gardens with their symmetrical fountains and flower beds, with the white marble domes and minarets rising above you, looking a hell of a lot bigger than any picture might have suggested.
With lens barrels smoking from all the photos we'd taken we slowly approached the central building - Mumtaz Mahal and Shah Jahan's mausoleum. Sitting on a raised platform with its four minarets standing guard, the Taj seems to float above you, reaching to the sky.
Shoes off, and onto the cool white marble. Up close and personal, one really appreciated the skill that goes into the pietra dura work. The craftsmen first carve a slot into the marble (say in the shape of a petal), into which they snugly slot a piece of coloured semi-precious stone. This is then polished till it becomes one with the marble - running your fingers over the patterns you cannot detect any joins or grooves. 20,000 Indians and craftsmen from Central Asia, 22 years, all for a monument in the name of love. Worth every drop of sweat that was shed.

Having had our fill of the Taj (we spent a good hour sitting in the gardens, observing from different angles) we decided to brave the streets of Taj Ganj once more. Our first stop was the burning Ghat situated close to the Taj. Ghats are platforms on the river banks, and burning Ghats are the pontoons that are used for Hindu burials and cremations. I don't think many people visit the burning Ghat in Agra, as Aaron and I attracted a lot of sideways glances (and many friendly nods too). The Ghat was not very busy when we visited, it looked as if a cremation had just been completed as a pile of ash was being gathered and thrown into the river.
Not wanting to impose our presence on mourners, we beat a hasty retreat back to the city, where we spent a couple of hours wandering the squalid lanes with their open sewers, meandering cows, occasional monkeys and mad motorists, before heading back to our guest house for a quick nap before taking our night train to Varanasi.

Jaipur City

On the eve of my birthday our Indian culinary adventures finally caught up with us, so we had to spend our first day in the Rajasthani state capital recovering in bed at our hotel - luckily we had WiFi access to keep us entertained, as the room was dull and dreary, and the rooftop terrace didn't hold much promise (overcast, hazy weather and lots of pollution).

A birthday fit for a Traveller
Duly rested and reenergised we woke up on the 23rd of July ready for a day of sightseeing and monkey madness. The monsoon rains didn't dampen our spirits, and with waterproof linings firmly on our backpacks we set out towards our first stop: Galta, the monkey temple that lies on the outskirts of the city. This temple was made famous by the National Geographic series Monkey Thieves (link to wikipedia page above).
Our rickshaw wallah told us that half an hour would be enough time for us to climb the steep hill, look around, and head back down for him to take us into town... what a load of tosh! It took Aaron and I a good 15 minutes just to climb the first hill, at which point we realised that our driver had dropped us off on the *OPPOSITE* side of the hill to the monkey temple! We would have to trek downhill to get to the temple complex and baths. So much for his "half an hour and you are back here". On our way up we were met by dozens of monkeys being fed cucumbers and bananas by worshipers of the Hindu deity Hanuman, as well as the odd pig or two (being chased away from the offerings to the Monkey Gods by the worshippers!) and a few stray cows.
At the top of the hill we were rewarded with a beautiful view of Jaipur, the Pink City, with its many fortified walls and minarets behind us, and some lush rainforest and hills in front of us. Down below us we could see the proper temple complex, so we quickly hurried away from the fortune tellers that were trying to draw us into their lairs and on towards the Monkey Madness. The temple complex is nestled between ridges, and features a series of vast bathing pools (segregated by sex, obviously) where Hindu worshippers take a dip in the water issuing from underground springs. The stairs leading down to the bathing pools and the main entrance to the temple are the monkey's playground. We had to tread carefully, as those macaques have big teeth, and the nursing mothers were especially aggressive towards us.
Having made it through the monkey gauntlet we explored the temples for a short while (lots of murals depicting Hindu scenes and plenty of worshippers willing to pose for photos). Once we'd had our fill of monkeys and monsoon rains we started our slog back up (and then down) to our waiting Rickshaw Wallah, who knew very well that we would need more than half an hour to explore the temple. That was just a ruse to be able to squeeze us for more money (he asked for an extra Rs100 but only got Rs20).

City Palace
We were dropped off at the heart of Jaipur's old city and throbbing heart. We ascended the Iswari Minar Warga Sal (Heaven Piercing Minaret) for 360 degree views of the old town to help us get our bearings and plan our route towards the City Palace. Noteworthy attractions in the City Palace are the giant silver urns (supposedly the largest silver objects in the world) that Maharaja Madho Singh II used to carry the waters of the Ganges with him to England, as well as the impressive Pitam Niwas Chowk courtyard, with its gates representing the four seasons. The palace of Jaipur was somewhat different to the other palaces we had visited in Rajasthan as it housed a Hindu monarch, however that is where the differences ended, and the boredom began to set it... There are only so many Maharaja palaces you can visit in a week and still show keen interest in the exhibits!
Once we had broken free of the City Palace we resumed our walking tour of Jaipur by visiting the Jantar Mantar, an observatory that was founded in the 18th Century (but has been recently restored). The complex looks more like an eccentric architect's back yard with its angular sculptures and structures. We opted not to hire a guide, thinking the signage would be enough, however the explanations left a lot to be desired, so the impressive abilities of these monoliths were quite lost on us. Ah well, next time we know to hire a guide!
Moving on through the old city we came to Sideroi Bazaar, a busy lane chocker with shops selling Rajasthani fabrics, instruments, handbags, Ali Baba pants, bangles, bracelets... anything a tourist could (or wouldn't) want as a reminder of their visit to the Pink CIty. On Sideroi Bazaar we caught a glimpse of the Hawa Mahal, an impressive five-story palace of sorts whose front is entirely covered in Purda Screens (yes, more Purda Screens!) so that the ladies of the rpyal court could observe the life and times of ordinary Rajasthanis. Sadly by the time we got to the Hawa Mahal it was closed for the evening, so we had to make due with a few photos from the outside. I will forever wonder what it must have felt like to be a lady of the Royal Court of Jaipur, looking down onto the commoners from behind my intricately carved Purda screens.

Trail blazing in Rajasthan

UPDATE - photos of Jodhpur can be found on Picasa
Night(mare) bus
A year ago while travelling in Vietnam I wrote all about SEA night buses, and I'm pretty sure I promised myself never to undertake another journey by sleeper bus in Asia. Well, I have a habit of breaking promises I make to myself...
In India, cancelling a train ticket costs only Rs40 (€0.60), so plenty of people book tickets several days in a row, and cancel at the last minute. This makes it handy for travellers who book train tickets only a day or two in advance - your ticket will initially be wait-listed but a few hours before the train leaves you're guaranteed a place. Or so the guidebook says! Unfortunately our wait-listed train ticket between Bikaner and Jodphur didn't benefit from a cancellation, so we had to book a last minute sleeper bus to be on our way!
Well, when we stepped up into the bus I was pining for Vietnam's short-bunked buses. The Indian equivalent of a sleeper bus has glass panelled sleeping compartments and no air-conditioning. The compartments look just like a giant vivarium for humans, right down to the (broken) lightbulb and hard sleeping surface. Aaron and I were under the impression that we would have one cubicle each, but it turns out that the wider cubicles are actually made for two persons. The result: two adults, two backpacks, and two day bags squeezed into a glass cubicle as wide as a small single bed, with a window about 60cmx45cm for air. Not the best night's sleep I have had in a long time, but at least the driver wasn't listening to Hindi-pop at full volume all through the night.

Jodphur, the Blue City
Our night bus rattled us 300km all the way from Bikaner to Jodphur, so at around 5am we were to be found in a rickety Rickshaw put-putting our way to Discovery Guest House, a place we booked into on the recommendation of some Spanish backpackers we met in Bikaner. Our first order of business in the guest house was to arrange for a doctor's visit - Aaron was having trouble breathing and hadn't slept a wink all night. It took the doctor all of six hours to make his way to the guest house, by which time we had breakfasted, napped, and showered.
The doctor told Aaron he had a swollen oesophagus, gave him a couple of injections and about 600 different pills to be taken three times a day, and bade him stay away from beers, cola and spicy food for three days. With Aaron partially mended we could explore our surroundings, and our first port of call was the guest house terrace for a look at the city.
On the way up we couldn't help noticing the nicely decorated interior - all the surfaces featured paintings of Rajasthani scenes - camels, harems, palms and oases, and the odd maharaja here and there. Up the three floors, through the kitchen (very clean) and onto the roof, for a breathtaking view of Mehrangarh, Jodphur's hilltop fortress. This seemingly impregnable fort stands at the top of a steep hill, around which sprawls downtown Jodphur. The city is famous for its Brahmin blue houses - painted so because a) Blue is the colour of Brahma, the favoured Hindu deity of most of the locals, and b) this particular shade of blue apparently doesn't absorb so much of the sun's heat! Whatever, it makes for a beautiful scene!
The Blue city, with its busy narrow lanes, open sewers and minarets was another strong reminder of our proximity to Pakistan. The city streets are lined with merchants - it seemed to me that at least every other opening was carrying out a commercial activity of some sort or other, and just a couple of streets away from our guesthouse we found the throbbing heart of downtown Jodhpur - the market that radiates around the clocktower (not open for visitors :/ ).

Mehranghar, the impregnable fortress
Impregnable, or so it would seem, to a tired westerner approaching in a Piaggio Ape rickshaw from the narrow lanes of Jodphur, wondering whether or not the Vespa's big, three-wheeled brother can make it up the hill without hitting any cows, dogs, people, and random rocks adorning the road. But as it turns out, this mighty 15th century fortress changed ownership a few times over its long history. Most of the fort that stands today was built in the 17th century. Entry to the fort includes a very detailed audio guide that outlines much of the history and many interesting facts about the fort, and handily Wikipedia explains many of these, saving me plenty of typing!
I can't help but mention that the fort housed many more intricate purda screens, each one carved with an original design. There are even secret chambers in the hall of private audiences, where the leader's women could listen in on the proceedings and whisper subtle hints to their men!
After a good hour of informative rambling in the fort, courtesy of the audio tour, we were shepherded through the obligatory gift museum (very expensive!), and allowed to wander on the bastions to our heart's content. The views from Mehranghar are amazing, I don't blame the Rathore princes for putting their fort here... the view stretches for kilometers and kilometers, unobstructed by hills and trees (we were, after all, on the fringes of the Great Thar desert).
After we'd had our fill of fortifications we rolled downhill in a rickshaw and into the market, where we carried out a short recce of the neighbourhood, where we were promptly harassed by people selling everything from camera memory cards to silk scarves, from fruits to illegal drugs and prescription medication!
Needless to say we beat a hasty retreat to the rooftop restaurant at our guest house, where we enjoyed the cool breeze and a sky dotted with kites, both the feathered and the plastic variety. With the setting sun came a very slow meal ("Our food is made from the heart, and is all cooked fresh, that is why you have to wait almost an hour for your curry and chapati") and a few beers in the company of some fellow travellers from France, Argentina, Brazil, Korea and Japan. We were all set for a late night with beers, however at 11pm sharp the lights were turned off and we were asked to either sit quietly in the dark or go to bed. It seems that in Jodhpur establishments need to be shut by 11pm. We had no choice but to turn in for an early night, and arranged to take a rickshaw to the Maharaja's Palace at the other end of town the next morning with the French travellers, David and Celine.

Maharaja Opulence
In the 1930s Maharaja Umaid Singh decided to start a philanthropic, job creating project that would last 15 years and create over 3000 jobs: he would build himself a palace, but not because he needed a palace or anything, just so that he could give jobs to 3000 workers in a time of severe drought. How very thoughtful of Mr Singh!
One of the Maharaja's descendants still lives in part of the palace, however most of it has been turned into a very luxurious (and exclusive) hotel, and an area has been turned into a museum. The museum is the only area open to the public (unless you are willing to splurge for a meal at one of the hotel restaurants), where there's a series of photos documenting the interior of the palace, some design elements, as well as the various stages of construction. As one would expect, most of the museum is dedicated to the Maharaja Umaid Singh and his hobbies: polo, fine dining and a lavish lifestyle meeting foreign dignitaries.
Our appreciation of the various exhibits was somewhat hampered by the fact that there was no power at all during our visit, so we could only observe the photos by mobile phone light!

Back in town, we were dropped off at the clock tower, in the heart of the market. We were about to embark on our first serious shopping expedition in India! The market was pretty crowded, however the hawkers weren't as annoying or as persistent as we expected (or as we would later encounter in our travels). A firm "No, thank you" was enough to get the Jodphuri hawkers off our backs, and we eventually found a clothing / scarf / pouf outlet that we liked, so we settled in for some free Thums Up cola and a display of nearly all the wares in the shop. Deepak, the owner, treated us to a nice lecture about the lengths that wholesalers like the one we visited in Bikaner go to to fleece unsuspecting travellers out of their money. It is not true that pashmina scarves are made using just the goatee of a mountain goat - the whole chin and chest area are used, and that's why pashmina scarves can be had for about one fifth the price we were quoted in Bikaner!
With reasonable prices and a nice choice of goods, we were happy to part with a wad of our rupees in exchange for Ali Baba pants, pashmina scarves, wall hangings and cushions.

Laden with shopping, we headed back to our guest house for a rest before taking our night train to Jaipur, the state capital of Rajasthan.