After the madness of Holi festival in Pushkar and before I left India I thought it only proper to see one of the 7 wonders of the world standing between me and my final destination. The city of Agra contains one of the gems of India the crown jewel that is the Taj Mahal. Reports from other travellers is that the crown jewel is worth the trip however it has been dropped in a bin. For the less well read out there this translates to 'Agra is a dump.'
The journey there would be a night train this leg of my journey would be with Shirley, a tiny American traveller that I had previously met in Varkala. We left Pushkar at 10pm and I slept till I heard the train slow as it began to enter the populated area of Agra. In India it isn't an offence to walk along the train tracks it is just stupid, and it appears that India's health and safety policy is based heavily on Darwinism. Survival of the fittest, richest and people with the train timetable. To slow the culling of the less intellectually endowed, the train slows to about 10 mph. I swept my curtain to the side and, while still in my bed, began to look out the window...good morning Agra!
There was a myriad of people from old men to young girls all at the side of the tracks all staring at the train as it slowly snaked its way through the outskirts of what was looking like yet another rubbish infested city. As my eyes adjusted to the morning light and the scenes lining the train's route I began to understand what was going on. The hundreds of people I was looking at, the groups of people standing on the tracks were having their morning' movement'. Hundreds of people squatting with their feet on a disused track their arses over the sleepers were elbow to elbow dropping Cleveland steamers. They looked at me like I was the odd one as I passed with my jaw dropped peering through my sleepy eyes. I get that some people are poor but why not get the government to supply some washing and toilet facilities so the surrounding area isn't a giant toilet. For India and me this was the point the honeymoon was over. I began to count the days till I'd be leaving.
The train finally rolled into the station and we began the 'no' ritual. "No tuk tuk", "no taxi","no no no.... " we walked about 4 km a little further than either of us would have wanted to walk given he heat and smell but we made it to our hostel and dumped our bags.
The journey there would be a night train this leg of my journey would be with Shirley, a tiny American traveller that I had previously met in Varkala. We left Pushkar at 10pm and I slept till I heard the train slow as it began to enter the populated area of Agra. In India it isn't an offence to walk along the train tracks it is just stupid, and it appears that India's health and safety policy is based heavily on Darwinism. Survival of the fittest, richest and people with the train timetable. To slow the culling of the less intellectually endowed, the train slows to about 10 mph. I swept my curtain to the side and, while still in my bed, began to look out the window...good morning Agra!
There was a myriad of people from old men to young girls all at the side of the tracks all staring at the train as it slowly snaked its way through the outskirts of what was looking like yet another rubbish infested city. As my eyes adjusted to the morning light and the scenes lining the train's route I began to understand what was going on. The hundreds of people I was looking at, the groups of people standing on the tracks were having their morning' movement'. Hundreds of people squatting with their feet on a disused track their arses over the sleepers were elbow to elbow dropping Cleveland steamers. They looked at me like I was the odd one as I passed with my jaw dropped peering through my sleepy eyes. I get that some people are poor but why not get the government to supply some washing and toilet facilities so the surrounding area isn't a giant toilet. For India and me this was the point the honeymoon was over. I began to count the days till I'd be leaving.
The train finally rolled into the station and we began the 'no' ritual. "No tuk tuk", "no taxi","no no no.... " we walked about 4 km a little further than either of us would have wanted to walk given he heat and smell but we made it to our hostel and dumped our bags.
Shirley is a 'go getter', there is no sitting about so after some research she decided that we were going to a fort/ancient university called Fatehpur Sikri, it is a city and a municipal board in Agra district in the state of Uttar Pradesh, India. The city was founded in 1569 by the Mughal emperor Akbar, and served as the capital of the Mughal Empire from 1571 to 1585, it was about an hour outside of Agra.
On arrival it was apparent that the various buildings were sprawled over a huge site, it was impressive and free!
We had a wander around, took some pictures and after a spot of dinner headed back on the bus, which, thanks to a downpour that flooded a village and angered a load of farmers everyone took to the road and created a blockade... it took us 5 hours to get back....starting to hate India a little bit.
It is like when you have a girlfriend, at first everything is great, her quirky smile, the fact that she eats with her mouth open... after a year or so, you could happily wire her mouth shut and Botox her face. I'm afraid I'm getting like that with India.
It is like when you have a girlfriend, at first everything is great, her quirky smile, the fact that she eats with her mouth open... after a year or so, you could happily wire her mouth shut and Botox her face. I'm afraid I'm getting like that with India.
The large square, with apocalyptic filter added for scary sky effect
One of my better pictures
The entrance to the city
The guard Goat
A oddly dressed ghost.
Shirley and her entourage.
Arty farty shot
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