Only a short car journey this morning to Agra and just on the outskirts we visited the fortified city of Fatehpur Sikri. We were dropped at the car park then had to catch a bus up to the main gate. We probably could have walked but as it was just passed midday we decided the shelter of the bus was the more sensible option. We bought our entrance ticket and fought our way through the "department guides" into the vast area filled with many buildings. We wandered through the Ladies Garden (tee hee hee) and several small palaces.
After that we decided to take a look at the Jama Musjid, a large mosque. Kate had to wear a fetching wrap around skirt as her knees were offensive. The whole time we walked around the mosque and the surrounding buildings we were shadowed by a scrote who insisted he didn't want paying and was just practicing his English. As we left he then insisted we visit his family's shop. Needless to say we told him where to go.
We had one last look around the palace buildings then went in search of a bus back down to the car park. It was not scheduled to leave for another hour so we contemplated walking. Suddenly an auto-rickshaw arrived dropping off some tourists and the driver immediately asked if we wanted to take if for 30 rupees. He was going down the hill anyway and the price was a bit steep so we walked away at which point he reduced it to 10 - the same as the bus.
Back at the car park I paid him and he then asked for our ticket stubs, presumably so he could flog them to local tourists. I refused on principle, besides they might make a nice souvenir. Back in the car and tickets ripped up in the bin we headed into Taj Ganji.
As the city is on the World heritage list, cars etc are banned within 1km of the Taj Mahal. We parked up then hopped into a large auto rikshaw and rattled our way to the hotel. We were very surprised by the location of our bed for the night, just 200 yards from the east gate. The room was the grottiest so far but no doubt location dictated the price. Once we had checked in and found an ATM we set off to visit the main attraction.
We started queuing at the east gate having ignored the wise words of a rickshaw driver. He was adamant that tickets could only be purchased at the south gate. After a minute or so Kate was ushered through into the female queue and soon found herself within the walls. I took a little longer as there were a lot more men trying to get in and also because of the small matter of a .32 shell casing. I had forgotten I had it in a small zipped compartment of my rucksack and the soldier/guard, short of handcuffing me, marched my to his office where I had to explain to his superiors why I was in the possession of the casing and did I have the weapon that fired it. Once they had searched my bag again and found no trace of the revolver I was free to go although the did confiscate it my small keepsake from Thailand. On reflection I was lucky to get it through airport customs in Bangkok. Had it been picked up there I might still be banged up in the Hilton!
Now I was deemed not to be carrying a piece or tooled up, we were free to wander around but were bemused by the fact that we had not paid or been asked for a ticket. We walked through the next gate expecting to be asked to produce a stub but instead we were rewarded with the famous view of the Taj Mahal (for free!).
The next few hours we explored the grounds with a nagging sense of paranoia. We went inside the mausoleum and marvelled at the intricate stone work with inlayed semi-precious stones. We spent a few minutes taking the obligatory cheesey photos and I was given a photo master class by a very helpful chap with a whistle. Any time a tourist got in my shot he blew it and shooed them off. I was so pleased with this service that I actually tipped someone for once before he asked me. But I came crashing back down to reality when the cheeky sod asked for more. I laughed at him and ran off.
We sat upon a marble bench for a while soaking up the atmosphere and were joined by an Indian family who wanted their photos taken with us. We obliged but didn't relish the extra attention due to our fare dodging so beat a hasty retreat.
For some unknown reason I thought I would re-enter the lion's den and try to retrieve my shell casing. Bad idea! I was held for another 20 minutes while Kate waited outside getting pestered by small boys who had to be scared off by a man with a big branch. During my detention I had to write a letter of apology. Once I had signed it and they were happy with my confession things took a turn for the better. They chatted with me, asking about my trip and offered me chai. I said no thank you and asked if I could leave. Thankfully I was allowed to and rejoined Kate outside.
We then decided to catch a potential sunset atop a restaurant in town. We found a great roof terrace but unfortunately too many clouds had gathered and it was not to be.
The next morning we were greeted by Kanaram and after breakfast we flagged down two rikshaws to cycle us all, plus bags, back to the car. The poor chap on our rikshaw was having a tough time trying to pull me so I told him to hop in the back with Kate while I cycled the rest of the way. An obvious source of amusment to the locals, I got a lot of cheers and stares. Once at the car the owner congratulated me on some good cycling and we were soon on our way into Agra.
We have no photos of the morning nor any of our travels beyond this point. All will become clearer later.
In Agra we saw the fort which afforded a different view of the Taj Mahal and a close encounter with a bat.
Our next stop was Chini-Ka-Rauza, a small riverside tomb and after that we visited Itimad-ud-Daulah (The Baby Taj). The final point of interest before our next leg of the journey was Mehtab Bagh, a well kept garden on the north bank of the Yamuna. Instead of paying the entrance fee we walked down the road to the side and had an equally great but different view of the Taj Mahal while surrounded by locals going about their lives, waterbirds and other tourists.
It was then time to say goodbye to Kanaram but before we made it to the train station we stopped at a roadside chai stall and enjoyed a final drink together. We were sad to see him go as we boarded our train to Varanasi. He had become a friend and we will definitely stay in touch.
After that we decided to take a look at the Jama Musjid, a large mosque. Kate had to wear a fetching wrap around skirt as her knees were offensive. The whole time we walked around the mosque and the surrounding buildings we were shadowed by a scrote who insisted he didn't want paying and was just practicing his English. As we left he then insisted we visit his family's shop. Needless to say we told him where to go.We had one last look around the palace buildings then went in search of a bus back down to the car park. It was not scheduled to leave for another hour so we contemplated walking. Suddenly an auto-rickshaw arrived dropping off some tourists and the driver immediately asked if we wanted to take if for 30 rupees. He was going down the hill anyway and the price was a bit steep so we walked away at which point he reduced it to 10 - the same as the bus.
Back at the car park I paid him and he then asked for our ticket stubs, presumably so he could flog them to local tourists. I refused on principle, besides they might make a nice souvenir. Back in the car and tickets ripped up in the bin we headed into Taj Ganji.
As the city is on the World heritage list, cars etc are banned within 1km of the Taj Mahal. We parked up then hopped into a large auto rikshaw and rattled our way to the hotel. We were very surprised by the location of our bed for the night, just 200 yards from the east gate. The room was the grottiest so far but no doubt location dictated the price. Once we had checked in and found an ATM we set off to visit the main attraction.
We started queuing at the east gate having ignored the wise words of a rickshaw driver. He was adamant that tickets could only be purchased at the south gate. After a minute or so Kate was ushered through into the female queue and soon found herself within the walls. I took a little longer as there were a lot more men trying to get in and also because of the small matter of a .32 shell casing. I had forgotten I had it in a small zipped compartment of my rucksack and the soldier/guard, short of handcuffing me, marched my to his office where I had to explain to his superiors why I was in the possession of the casing and did I have the weapon that fired it. Once they had searched my bag again and found no trace of the revolver I was free to go although the did confiscate it my small keepsake from Thailand. On reflection I was lucky to get it through airport customs in Bangkok. Had it been picked up there I might still be banged up in the Hilton!
Now I was deemed not to be carrying a piece or tooled up, we were free to wander around but were bemused by the fact that we had not paid or been asked for a ticket. We walked through the next gate expecting to be asked to produce a stub but instead we were rewarded with the famous view of the Taj Mahal (for free!).
The next few hours we explored the grounds with a nagging sense of paranoia. We went inside the mausoleum and marvelled at the intricate stone work with inlayed semi-precious stones. We spent a few minutes taking the obligatory cheesey photos and I was given a photo master class by a very helpful chap with a whistle. Any time a tourist got in my shot he blew it and shooed them off. I was so pleased with this service that I actually tipped someone for once before he asked me. But I came crashing back down to reality when the cheeky sod asked for more. I laughed at him and ran off.
We sat upon a marble bench for a while soaking up the atmosphere and were joined by an Indian family who wanted their photos taken with us. We obliged but didn't relish the extra attention due to our fare dodging so beat a hasty retreat.For some unknown reason I thought I would re-enter the lion's den and try to retrieve my shell casing. Bad idea! I was held for another 20 minutes while Kate waited outside getting pestered by small boys who had to be scared off by a man with a big branch. During my detention I had to write a letter of apology. Once I had signed it and they were happy with my confession things took a turn for the better. They chatted with me, asking about my trip and offered me chai. I said no thank you and asked if I could leave. Thankfully I was allowed to and rejoined Kate outside.
We then decided to catch a potential sunset atop a restaurant in town. We found a great roof terrace but unfortunately too many clouds had gathered and it was not to be.
The next morning we were greeted by Kanaram and after breakfast we flagged down two rikshaws to cycle us all, plus bags, back to the car. The poor chap on our rikshaw was having a tough time trying to pull me so I told him to hop in the back with Kate while I cycled the rest of the way. An obvious source of amusment to the locals, I got a lot of cheers and stares. Once at the car the owner congratulated me on some good cycling and we were soon on our way into Agra.
We have no photos of the morning nor any of our travels beyond this point. All will become clearer later.
In Agra we saw the fort which afforded a different view of the Taj Mahal and a close encounter with a bat.
Our next stop was Chini-Ka-Rauza, a small riverside tomb and after that we visited Itimad-ud-Daulah (The Baby Taj). The final point of interest before our next leg of the journey was Mehtab Bagh, a well kept garden on the north bank of the Yamuna. Instead of paying the entrance fee we walked down the road to the side and had an equally great but different view of the Taj Mahal while surrounded by locals going about their lives, waterbirds and other tourists.
It was then time to say goodbye to Kanaram but before we made it to the train station we stopped at a roadside chai stall and enjoyed a final drink together. We were sad to see him go as we boarded our train to Varanasi. He had become a friend and we will definitely stay in touch.
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