Back to Varanasi...
Trip Start
Aug 25, 2003
1
22
38
Trip End
Jul 23, 2004
Delhi,
India
Sunday, February 15, 2004
As a splurge, we took the Shatabdi Express from Delhi to Agra, even though it cost twice as much for that 2 hour trip as a normal 12-hour second class sleeper ticket. Before boarding (at the ridiculous time of 6 am), we stopped at the left luggage counter to leave our big backpacks until we passed through Delhi again
Best view of Humayun's tomb and cool canals
. This was a good idea: no need to lug around the big bags, we'll travel fast and light with less hassling by hotel touts, etc etc. Except no one showed up to check in our bags until 5:58, and by the time we ran for the train, it was pulling away from the platform. It's a funny story because we caught the train...But, oh, what luxury! We got a free newspaper (with a choice between two English language dailies), tea and a snack, and then more tea with a full breakfast. Plus, it didn't stop at any other station (unlike most of our trains, which stop to let goats pass), so we got to Agra by 8:15. After we checked into our hotel, we got a local bus the 40 km to Fatehpur Sikri. Technically, it's called an abandoned city because soon after it was completed, intended to replace Agra as the capital city, the meager water supply dried up, and it was deserted. In reality, though, it is inhabited by a huge number of intensely persistant would-be guides. I think we had 15 offers for "a perfect tour" before we even reached the entrance; the fix, we discovered, is the same as for the traffic in Delhi: earplugs. The experience became much more pleasant after that, an we explored in blissful deafness. There are two parts to the complex: the free part, consisting of the enorously imposing mosque and cool ruins of surrounding buildings where we looked around for two hours, and the $6 part, which sucks. The walled area (with the entrance fee) contains a bunch of the buildings that have been restored, but they are just empty rooms with plaques in English describing the room's use, and we only spent half an hour inside. At first, we thought that without a guide we were missing out on hidden but vitally important information, until we overheard what one group of British tourists got for their extra 150 rupees: the guide was reading each plaque aloud, and then herding the group on to the next. Satisfied that we hadn't wasted a golden learning opportunity, we headed back to Agra
Buildings in the Humayun complex
. Agra is most famous for the Taj Mahal, the mausoleum of Shah Jahan's favorite wife, who died delivering her 14th child. In my opinion, he should have done something nice for her before she got pregnant for the 14th time, like maybe stop knocking her up, but who am I to judge. The Taj really is beautiful, and has all these horrifically interesting stories attached to it's construction, like how the Shah cut off the hands of the artisans so they couldn't make anything as beautiful again, and how he gouged the eyes out of the main architect (who then retaliated by drilling a hole in the top of the main dome so it would be imperfect; no one mentioned how a blind guy got up there, but I like the unique revenge idea). The most impressive element of the Taj is the incredible detail of the flowers (each individual petal and leaf are made out of a different semi-precious stone) inlaid in the walls and ceiling, and all over her tomb. His tomb is there, too, even though he originally planned to end up in a matching Taj, identical except in black marble, to be built across the river. Unfortunately for the Shah, he was overthrown and imprisoned before it could be begun. How he spent his last years is debatable: one legend says he died in his cell, gazing in grief at the tomb of his beloved favorite wife; the less romantic version claims he had a heart attack during an opium-fueled orgy with his harem. Your choice...
Considering a dip in Humayun's canal...
After spending as long as possible at the Taj (motivated less by the architectural marvel and more by the fact that I was going to get my money's worth of the $19 per person entry fee), we got the night train to Varanasi, retrieved the sunglasses, and took another night train back to Delhi. This is where our nearly perfect plan hit a snag. I had started feeling sick that morning in Varanasi; by the time we hit Delhi at 7 am the next day I was having these horrible whole body sweats and told Phil that this must be menopause. He thought it sounded more like malaria, and after listening to my whining and complaining for another 24 hours, he made me go to the doctor. So, as classic as a case of malaria in India would have been ("Oh, my first case of malaria, I remember it well. It was hot and humid that year, deep in the chaos of India..."), it ended up being a boring old kidney infection, and a minor one at that. Still, it kept us in Delhi for two days before we could escape to McLeod Ganj. Delhi wasn't all bad, though; we found a bakery called Wenger's, and since I'm the nurse, Phil believed me that eclairs are the best modern treatment for kidney infections... 
