FAFFD: April 5

Tuesday April 5^th was a long and exciting day.  We were traveling from Mumbai to New Delhi to start our three-day tour of the Golden Triangle (New Delhi, Agra, and Jaipur).  

We woke up at 3:40 am, and six people did their best to dress without waking my husband, who, as the sole breadwinner of our small family, was staying home to work. I personally took the time to enjoy a nice bowl of Fruity Pebbles, brought all the way from Battle Creek courtesy of Auntie, but I think most people skipped breakfast.  Shortly after my delicious multi-colored breakfast was consumed we crammed seven people into our Honda (Mom, Auntie, Fez, Sister, Friend K, my driver, and myself) and were off to the airport.  The drive to the airport certainly wasn’t the most comfortable drive, but at least it was early in the day and traffic was at a minimum.  Poor Fez, though, was stuck in the front seat on Auntie’s lap, and found her face a bit too close to the windshield and the terrifying view of traffic it provided.  Needless to say, she didn’t enjoy her ride.

It was a rough ride for all of us- but at least we weren’t driving.  My poor driver had picked up Sister and Friend K very late last night.  He turned around and drove us to the airport at 4:30 am, and he then had to drive my husband to work at 8:00 am.  I’m glad he was okay doing it- I’d have been exhausted.

 The airport transfer went smoothly; we dropped our checked bags and headed to the money exchange for Friend K.  We had discovered earlier in the week that it was nearly impossible to exchange money outside of the airport.  We had tried, on Friday, to go to my bank and exchange Auntie and Mom’s money.   The bank, at 2:00 pm and full of people, insisted they were closed.  Saturday was the World Cup Game, and so banks were open only for a couple of hours.  We went to the bank first thing, before doing our drive around the neighborhood, and wound up staying for over an hour before finally have the money deposited (not exchanged) at an incredibly lousy rate.  So, at the airport, we were all relieved to find the money exchange booth open so early as it provided us an easy and quick transaction. 

We went through a fairly empty security line, though we thought we’d never get through it as flight attendants, at least ten of them, continuously appeared, one at a time or in pairs, right before it was our turn to walk through the metal detector, and of course got priority to go first. But eventually they stopped and we managed to pass through security successfully.  We were at the good terminal, so we walked up the stairs to the food court, and bought bottles of waters, Sister and Friend K testing out their new currencies.  We then headed to our flight, which was already boarding. 

I sat with Fez, and we both read until breakfast was served.    I had loaned her Chetan Bhagat’s Five Point Someone, which the movie 3 idiots is loosely based upon, and she was absorbed in the pages like a true bookworm.  I love seeing someone that engrossed in a good book.  Call me cheesy, but it really makes me happy.  While she was enjoying that, I was reading Scarlett, which was written as a sequel to Gone with the Wind.  The book is amazing, by the way.   The author does a good job of mimicking Margaret Mitchell’s writing style, and Scarlett’s harebrained ideas, although I do have to say that Scarlett is a bit more lovable of a character than she is in the first book.  Anyhow, back to the flight…

Breakfast was served, which had a lousy vegetable meal (that I had ordered), but the rumor was that the eggs were quite good.  But I was most disappointed that they didn’t serve us the juice box at the beginning of the flight.  Lately, it seems, most of the Indian flights that I have been on have give out this juice box that I find fairly nasty tasting, yet I always drink the whole thing and wish for more. Perplexing, isn’t it? But apparently Air India is the one airline that doesn’t pass them out, so my family never got to experience them. 

Very shortly we were leaving our plane and walking through the New Delhi airport.  It was only 8:00 am, but it was still India, and I had expected a busier airport.  It was nearly empty.  It felt odd to be alone when we are usually surrounded by so many people. Mom commented that it was eerily similar to the movie/book The Langoliers by Stephen King.

We stopped at the first restroom, and then headed to baggage claim.  I insisted upon purchasing bottled water (which came in a vending machine), and we put six or seven bottles in poor Friend K’s carry-on bag.  After a second and third bathroom break, we finally headed out of the airport to be greeted by our travel agent.  He was there, holding a sign with my name in one hand, and in the other a nice burlap bag with sturdy handles and the company logo printed on the side. 

He escorted us to our nice, air-conditioned van.  Once we arrived, they passed out white and orange flowered leis (or whatever you would call it in India, as that is a Hawaiian word).  They smelled wonderful.  They also passed out bottles of water, which was quite welcome.  We of course took the time to posed for our “we are in Delhi” photo, complete with an adorable stray dog that came up to sniff us. 

We met our two drivers, H and R.  Actually, only R drives.  H is a Watcher.  It seems quite silly, as we were driving main roads, but a Watcher we had.  He was nice, though, and told us about the things we passed, and opened the door for us.  It was very much like the History Channel show IRT: Deadliest Roads.  Not that we were in commercial goods trucks, driving through the Himalayas (you should really watch that show, it is scary as anything), but similar in that those drivers also had a Watcher.  The Watcher on the show made sure that you didn’t fall of the cliff on one side, nor hit the solid rock wall on the other.   I’m quite glad our drive would be much more benign. 

 Before leaving, I passed over a huge wad of cash to the travel agency representative.  “May I have a receipt, please?” I asked.  Not surprisingly, they didn’t have anything to record the fact that I had just passed over more money than both of our drivers would make in one month.  So we agreed for me to text the company representative that I’d been in e-mail contact with, and have him confirm payment via text message.  After being in India for 3.5 months, I find this perfectly normal, although I’m sure I would have vehemently refused had I been in this situation four months earlier.  

The money business taken care of, the representative passed over the burlap bag of goodies and left.  It had a map of India (with the cities very unhelpfully written in Hindi), a book with our hotel vouchers, and a copy of our itinerary.  I passed around the reading material and kept the bag for my gym shoes. 

As we pulled out of the airport, I was amazed at the difference between New Delhi 2011 and New Delhi 2009, which was the last time I’d been in the city. New Delhi airport 2009 was dirty.  Thousands of human beings were in the streets, sleeping.  It was grubby, and basically looked like the ride to the airport in Mumbai.   But now?  New Delhi airport 2011 was beautiful!  Not only was the airport new, but also the roads were new, and had bright green grasses and flowers as landscaping.  I stared in amazement, and confusion, until Watcher H told me everything was new for the recently held Commonwealth Games.   Oh, the Commonwealth Games.  I remember that disaster.  I’d heard that the housing was inadequate, some stadiums unbuilt, and many athletes refused to come to New Delhi because of the lousy air quality.  Well, I understood that for New Delhi 2009, but New Delhi 2011 was a completely different picture!  

Of course, eventually the peace was shattered by a huge traffic jam.  We sat in a standstill for 20 minutes, but I didn’t mind.  I was back to being entrapped in the post-civil war world of Scarlett O’Hara.  In fact, the book was so good; I never once napped for the long drive. 

Our first ‘stop’ was actually a quick get-a-picture and leave ‘stop’.  It was very close to the airport and traffic jam.  At the roadside were three large statues.  I tried to find some reading material on them, but Google Maps India pretty much stinks compared to Google Maps USA- I just kept finding information to purchase small statues rather than the actual information on the large roadside attractions.  I will admit I am not well versed in the Hindu Gods, so please bear with me and my descriptions, which I basically stole from Wikipedia and this website:

http://www.sanatansociety.org/hindu_gods_and_goddesses.htm

There are five ‘main’ Hindu Gods:  Shiva, Vishnu, Devi, Surya, and Ganesha. 

The main center statue was a cooper or bronze statue of Shiva, the Hindu God of destruction.  He is holding his weapon, a trident.  He is surrounded by smaller statues, one of a cow (we learned that only the female cow is holy, not the male bull) and a few other humanoid Gods.  I recognized Ganesha, at least. 

To the left and right of the main, large Shiva statues are two pairs of statues (also large) of Vishnu and his consort, Lakshmi, but they are depicted as reincarnations of them.  So one pair is actually Krishna and Radha, the other pair is Rama and Sita.    Vishnu is the preserver of universe, and has four arms, at least in some of his depictions.  He is everywhere, and sounds a lot like the ether that early scientists used to think must exist to hold the moon in place.   He is the essence of everything- past and future. He also has the coolest weapon; a sudarshana chakra: a spinning, disk-like super weapon with 108 serrated edges. Lakshmi, his consort, is the perfect woman, goddess of wealth, courage, grace, wisdom, fertility, and charm.  Basically the Goddess of all the good stuff. She uplifts mankind. Wikipedia didn’t give her a weapon, but she does get to ride both elephants and owls, so that is pretty cool.  

Facing the main Shiva statue, the pair on the left of him were Krishna, in silver (paint?) accompanied by Radha (in bronze/copper), although Google told me Krishna had 16100 wives, plus a few consorts, so I’m not entirely sure it was her, though she was apparently his favorite.  She seems like the jealous type, though, because she took away his flute since she didn’t want him breathing his prana into it (I think that is basically the spirit- breath/life force). 

Okay, quick diversion: Who out there is a Dune fan? I love how those books pull so many great religious elements into them!  Prana-bindu training of the Bene Gesserit!

But back to Krishna.  Krishna’s weapon is apparently a discus but he is always depicted playing a flute.  I believe he is the Hindu God of love.  He must be pretty good at it to have that many wives!

To the right of the large Shiva Statue was a statue of Rama.  I am honestly not sure it was him, as it is my guess, rather than being told, but I do remember from Slumdog Millionaire that Rama has a bow and arrows…. And this silver statue has a bow and arrows.  The statue next to it also holds its hand up like that creepy kid in the movie.  Rama stands next to a female, who must be Sita.  Sita sets wifely and womanly virtues for women.  It sounds like her life was hard, though.  She lived in exile with her husband, was kidnapped for a year, and despite remaining true to her husband during that year, was later kicked out of her own home because she had (as a captive) live with another man.  Her own husband kicked her out, because he bowed to peer pressure.  There is an age-old lesson for ya.  She also walks/jumps on hot coals and fire at some point.  She raises her kids (from her husband) alone, and when he finally accepts the kids as his own, the earth splits open and she leaves the world.  I guess it doesn’t surprise me that I’ve met a lot more women named Lakshmi than Sita.  Okay, really only 2:0, but you see many things in Mumbai named Lakshmi, and the only thing I’ve seen named Sita is the travel agency. 

 Every statue was either gold/bronze/copper or silver in appearance, though I believe the colors were paint, not actually precious metals.   Such a long description for such a short stop!  But I thought the stories were interesting, and help to explain the pictures.   We soon got back into our nice air-conditioned van and continued on our merry way.   

Shiva

Krishna & Radha

Rama & Sita

Before we left, my driver (in Mumbai) reminded me that any place we stop pays our drivers (in New Delhi) a commission to bring people into their stores, so we should be wary of prices.  We stopped for a bathroom break at the same place we stopped in my 2009 tour.  First order of business, naturally, was the bathroom break.   10 rupees.  My goodness the price has gone up in the past two years!  It used to be 2 rupees.  The drivers had wanted a short break, so bored, we wandered around the gift shop, looking at prices.  We found the same items we had bought two days before, at Elephanta Island in Mumbai, but for 3x the price.   Happy with my Mumbai driver and his bargaining skills, we all gloated internally at our luck to have an inside man.  

I was busy eyeing the green-canned Pringles (I think it is sour cream and chive, but I just know I like the green can) when we got sick of the sales pitches and decided to wait on the porch.  Of course, the minute we stood on the porch a man started planning music and a little girl started dancing, asking for money.  After nearly four months in India, I have become immune to this sort of thing, and I just turned away, though everyone else still watched out of the corner of their eyes. 

I have to say, I am also getting better at my bargaining skills.  While we were standing around, a second group of tourists came up and made conversation with us.  They were from South Africa, and in New Delhi being honored for something (I feel like it was a good bridge he had built, but I don’t quite remember).   But the guy in the group started asking about the prices of items.  He said he wanted some water, but wanted to confirm what each bill was worth.  Now, I have no idea how to convert between whatever the South African currency is to rupees, but I know the cost of water in India.  And it sure as heck isn’t 100 rupees for one liter of water.  It should be about 15 rupees.  So I went with the guy to bargain.  

Now, I have to say, in the past, or in 2009, I would have meekly paid the 100 rupees (about $2) just to be done with it. But I’m sick of being taken advantage of, so I went right up and started arguing.  “How much for the water?” I asked, being careful not to smile.  “100 rupees,” was the answer.  “15” I offered, which is the real price.  I know you should start lower than the real price, but it is hard to get much lower than 15 for anything.   “No, no, no.  I give you 50”.  “No, 15,” I insist.  At this point, a second employee comes up and insists, “Fixed price, no bargain”.  I am pretty sure I snorted at that point, and admonished him, “yes bargain, he already offered me 50.  No fixed price.  You lie to me.”  He grins sheepishly and says, “okay, okay, 50”.   I shook my head, no, and went back to 15.  “No, no.  40” is the next offer.    Urgh.  I go up, despite knowing it is wrong, “25”.   “No, no, no”.   I do my best Indian head bob and say no, walking back to the exit.  The South African dude follows my lead.  “Wait!  30,” they shout.   “Okay, okay,” I say.   Still paying double the price, but at least it isn’t too ridiculous.  A fancy hotel or restaurant might charge that much.    “How many do you want?” I asked the South African.   He looks confused, and answered two.  I ask him for the sixty rupees, but he pulls his wallet out and has no idea what is in it.  I swear, I don’t understand how he could have managed to get the money and not even look at it.  I pull out a red bill (red is the color of the 50 rupee bill), but it turns out it was South African money.  I finally just pay for the water and give it to the guy.  I was quite happy with myself.  I might not have gotten the perfect bargain, but at least I tried, and I did get it down to a better price.    So I was quite satisfied, and if I were a cat, I would have been purring at my little conquest.  

We hopped back into the van and continued on our drive to Agra, which, Watcher H told me, is the birthplace of Krishna.  A quick Google check confirmed that the birthplace was within 50 km of the Agra airport.      

As we neared Agra, we picked up an extra person.   In each city, we had tour guides appointed to lead us around and tell us the history and significance of all the buildings.   Our guide then rode with us to our first real tourist stop.  We went to Sikandra, an Agra suburb, which is home to the tomb of the absolutely fascinating character, Akbar the Great (1542-1605).  He apparently commissioned the tomb himself, as our guide told us he thought his son was too lazy to do it.   But his son did a good job of finishing it.   Now, a quick little history lesson (mostly courtesy of Wikipedia again).

Akbar the Great was part of the Mughal dynasty, which, in its heyday, covered central and northern India, Afghanistan, Bangladesh, and Pakistan.  In their prime, the Mughals (which can be spelled in a wide variety of ways) were primarily Muslim, but Akbar especially sought to unite all of the faiths and had big think-tank-like philosophical groups comprised of people from each religion.  He even founded his own, apparently short-lived religion, to unite everyone.     

Anyhow, Akbar was thirteen and probably a Sunni Muslim when he took the throne, and over two decades he consolidated all of the power in Northern and Central India.  He tried to keep good relations, though, by marrying a Hindu princess and keeping their families in the loop.  Before him, the princesses were considered lost to their Hindu families and had no standing.  But Akbar let them keep their religion.   Rumor has it he had at least three (main) wives- one from each religion: Hinduism, Islam, and Christianity.  But our tour guide said that it wasn’t proven if he had a Christian wife or not.  It is all rather confusing.  Akbar died from dysentery at the age of 63.  

Anyhow, we were about to stop and see Akbar’s tomb.  

Later in the day we would visit Agra Fort, and the next day, we would visit (after the Taj Mahal) Fatehpur Sikri (another Fort/City).   Agra Fort had changed hands very frequently in the years before Akbar (his father was both crowned and defeated there), but it was Akbar who repossessed it and rebuilt it as it stands today.  It took eight years to rebuild it.  Now, Akbar built with red sandstones.   But his grandson, Shah Jahan preferred marble.   So some parts of the interior were destroyed and re-done by this grandson.   Ironically enough, some of the pretty marble parts became Shah Jahan’s own prison, because his son, Aurangzeb, overthrew his own father and imprisoned him in a tower.  The tower overlooks the Taj Mahal.  

The other site we would see, an hour outside of Agra, Fatehpur Sikri, is a red sandstone city built by Akbar, but it was abandoned very soon after being built, because the water wells dried up.

So what about the Taj Mahal, also located in this same region?  The Taj Mahal was built by Akbar’s grandson, Shah Jahan, the same guy imprisoned in Agra Fort.  Everyone got it?

Okay, after that second history lesson of the day, we can move on to our visit of Akbar’s tomb.  The gateway to the tomb is beautiful.  Tombs are required to have four entrances- one each pointing north, south, east, and west.  That way, the spirit can leave in any direction. Everyone enters through the fancy southern gateway- the rest weren’t really functional.   Muslims face west to pray, and in Akbar’s tomb, the feet of the body point south, and the head is turned to face the west.   We were wowed simply by the gateway, however, before even seeing the tomb! The tomb entryway had a beautiful, ornate ceiling, covered with gold embellishments and painted blue.  Our tour guide told us when it was restored- I believe it was around 100 years ago.   The tomb itself had six levels, with a huge dome hidden within the structure.  

Southern Gateway to Akbar's Tomb

Beautiful Ceiling at Akbar's Tomb

Once we passed through the entrance of the tomb, we were amazed at the beauty of the yard.  Apparently it had been turned into a wildlife preserve, and ungulates peacefully grazed on the grass, oblivious to the human intruders. 

When we entered the tomb, of course removing our shoes and paying the shoe guy to protect them, we learned that the men are buried with a ‘pen box’ on top of their tomb, and the women with a ‘slate’.   Basically, the male tombs have a small decorative raised surface, like cutting a cylinder in half the long way, and the females have a small decorative flat surface.  It is bad to step on a grave, so the bodies are buried beneath the earth, but the space directly above the body has a casket placed over it, so people can’t step on it.  In fact, if a building is made with multiple floors, then a replica casket is placed on each level, so that you never step directly on the body, regardless of how many feet you are above the ground level.  Although I’m sure airplanes, at some point, must point directly above these sites, just on accident, right?  So at some level, it sure seems like they’ve been stepped upon.  But I guess tombs built hundreds of years before flight can’t really prepare for such things. Akbar’s tomb was very bare, with no decorations.   But in smaller side rooms, where his daughters, I believe, are buried, there are pretty mosaic floors. 

We left the Akbar’s Tomb and headed to our van. Of course, first the hawkers swarmed us, wanting us to purchase scarves and soapstone boxes and other things we had no desire to own.  We crawled in to our van, and our guide hopped on with us.  He grabbed the necklaces that one vendor was selling, and held it up high.  “Does anyone want to buy this stuff?” he asked, bored.  We all answered “no” and our guide sent them on their way.   But he repeated this at other stops, too, which we really didn’t appreciate.  

We drove off, with plans to check-in at our hotel, grab a very quick and late lunch, and then head back out to Agra Fort.  Along the way, Driver R apparently got in the wrong lane (I didn’t know such thing was even possible in India) to make a turn.  I still don’t quite understand how it happened, but it really makes me question the usefulness of Watcher H.  Wasn’t it his job to spot such problems and prevent it?  Anyhow, a traffic cop saw the violation, and came up and knocked on Driver R’s window.  I, of course, had been engrossed in Scarlett, and didn’t see the cop.  I just saw our driver hop out of his door.  Yes, we were still on the road, in the far left lane.  While our tour guide and Watcher H attempted to explain what had happened, I naturally assumed we’d get to watch our first bribe in action.  Driver H and the cop walked across the street, and soon accumulated an audience as they fought.  We couldn’t hear what was going on, of course, but watched the clock tick down.  Who’d have thought a bribe would take so long?  I guess they just have to bargain, just like with the water purchase.   Ten or fifteen minutes later, our driver hopped back in the van and proudly exclaimed he didn’t pay a bribe at all!  We cheered, still not entirely clear as to what happened, but glad to be moving again.  

Check-in at the hotel wasn’t too bad; they collected our passports and processed our rooms while we waited on brown leather ottomans.  The hotel has a modern appearance, with clean lines and fun yellow sofas surrounded by glass vases with yellow flowers.  Due to the traffic violation, we didn’t have much time to eat.  Restaurants in India are incredibly slow, despite the fast pace of life, so we decided to order pizza.   

I went to the concierge and asked to be connected to pizza hut.  Now, I’m great on the phone with Baskin Robbins, but the Dominos in Mumbai can’t understand a word of what I say.  The Agra Pizza Hut wasn’t any better.   Not having a menu, I just wanted to randomly order two pizzas (one pepperoni, one sausage and mushroom).  But of course, that is much easier said than done.    The first thing you do on any food phone call is to give your telephone number, so I naturally gave it to the Pizza Hut guy.  Then he repeated it, twice.  I told him I was at the hotel.  He repeated that, twice.   He asked for my room number.  I said I didn’t have one yet.  He said he couldn’t take my order without it.  I asked to give the order, and then give the room number after. No, no, no.  I sat there, waiting, until the front desk assigned me a room.  I gratefully thanked them, and then resumed my conversation.  Yes, I’d like to order these two pizzas.  He messed up my order, repeated it, then repeated my phone number, and then re-repeated the order.  Wrong.  Sighing, I corrected him.  “Okay, and would you like breadsticks with that?”  Sure, sure.  Whatever.  I’m in a hurry, please just place the order!  “Okay, one order of breadsticks, one pepperoni pizza, one mushroom and chicken sausage pizza. Do you want soda with that?”  “NO!  Please, please, please just place my order!”.  After a few more questions, all very slowly asked, he finally hung up.  

We walked to our rooms; fervently hoping the pizza actually arrived before we had to leave to see Agra Fort.   All of our rooms were on the ground level.  Fez and I were staying together, and our room smelled awful.  But Mom/Auntie and Sister/Friend K said their rooms smelled just fine.  Their rooms looked out at the road, but had windows covered with thick flowering vines.  Our window overlooked the pool.  It looked very inviting. 

The room itself was simple, with two beds covered in thin white blankets.  The walls were white, with a pink/yellow/purple themed wallpaper border and a rug to match.  Yellow curtains and a yellow couch completed the room.  The bathrooms were quite nice, with green stone covering every surface.  We later learned, however, that the shower door wasn’t too efficient, and the floor was permanently soaked after showers.

Within the thirty minutes, our pizza had arrived and we chowed down in our smelly room. Fez hoped the cleaning supply smell would be replaced by a delicious pizza odor, but when we returned later that night it still smelled of the Pine-sol or whatever it was that had originally stunk it up.  I have never actually used Pine-sol, but based on the happiness of that woman in the commercials, I think Pine-sol must smell a lot better than our room. 

We finished our pizza and headed to the lobby to meet our tour guide.

After a short drive, we arrived at Agra Fort.  A woman, with a huge bag of cut grasses balancing on her head, was exiting the fort as we were entering.  Our guide told us the grass was for her cows.  I guess the Fort is multi-purpose!  As at every place we have visited and will visit, hawkers selling their wares instantly swarmed us.   Doing our best to ignore the bangles and booklets shoved in our faces, we proceeded up with walkway. 

Imposing sandstone walls greeted us.  The entrance was build to thwart intruders, and gently twisted and curved about.   We first crossed an empty moat that stank of sewage and once held crocodiles; then we passed through a huge pair of doors.  We walked up a ramp that can be drizzled with boiling oil when enemies invade, and opened into a huge courtyard.   

Entrance to Agra Fort

View of Jahan's Location of House Arrest

Some of the Marble Work

On the Left is the 'Good' Daughter's Marble Home.  On the Right is the 'Bad' Daughter's Plaster Home.

The courtyard was full of now-short green grass, and a huge stone bathtub so big it required steps both inside and out.  Apparently the King considered it portable, and used manpower to move the tub to a different desired location at his whim. 

Tantalizing views of the Taj Mahal peeked from various corners of the building, teasing us about our next day’s adventures.  Ornately carved sandstone had elephant heads as structural supports.   The earlier portions of the fort were of red sandstone, but beautiful marble, done during Akbar’s grandson’s reign (Shah Jahan) was also visible.   Remember, Shah Jahan was imprisoned in this fort during his later years.   He was stuck in a beautiful marble corner, over-looking the Taj Mahal.   When Shah Jahan was rebuilding, he built two homes within the fort for his two daughters (I think he MUST have had more than two daughters, but maybe these two were special).  One daughter, a rebel, who eventually supported the son who overthrew Jahan’s reign, was given a house of plaster.  But the favored daughter was given a house of marble.  

We saw the seat where Akbar and others would sit, his chief minister below him, and the people in the courtyard, ready to give their concerns and have their voices heard.  The women, of course, could not be seen, much less heard, and the King’s sitting room had two walls that were carved marble fences, which the wives could peek through and shout their opinions if the king so wanted to hear them.

We learned how portraits of the women were made.  Of course one would want paintings of their wife- but no man can see the women to paint her.  So how were they done?  Apparently, mirrors were set up, and the woman would sit behind a curtain, only her reflection visible, and the artist would draw her reflection.

We also learned that the fort had a stray cannon ball during the struggle for independence.   We re-traced its trajectory and saw by the huge hole in some of the marble that it bounced much further than any of us thought possible. 

The fort was full of so many things.  Not only was it for defense, but it was also their home.  Children were taught there, laws were made, harems danced, and village markets thrived.  But it is empty now. 

It had been a long day.    As we left Agra Fort, the smell of smoke reached our noses.  I’m getting used to random burnings, of garbage, tires, or whatever else, but the combination of the day’s exhaustion with the smoke exhaust was enough to make my eyes feel incredibly painful and tear up.  We reached our hotel by 7:00 pm and I gratefully took a shower and conked out by 8:00 pm.  Fez did her best to sit by the pool and read, but the mosquitoes got the better of her, and she was in bed quite early as well.   Mom, Auntie, Sister, and Friend K were the partiers of the group and checked out the hotel bar before sleeping by 10:00 pm.   

The next day we were going to see the Taj Mahal!