Now where was I? Ah yes, Agra. Despite plenty of reports from fellow travellers that Agra was an awful city, and that a lot of people take a day trip there from Delhi rather than stay, we hopped on the train at Udaipur and headed to Agra. Four hours later, and after a rather confused journey - we bought a 'general' ticket which means you have to stand in what can only be described as chicken coops at the back of the train or pay for an upgrade once you're on board. We decided against paying the 300 rupees, feigning foreign confusion and carriage-hopping for most of the ride - until we rolled up to the Siddartha Hotel in Taj Ganj.
Taj Ganj has no luxury hotels, so is packed with fellow budget travellers and locals, and despite not being the prettiest place in the world, it's a good spot for enjoying a banana lassi at one of many rooftop bars and restaurants, and watching the sun go down behind the Taj, which was just a one-minute walk away from our front door. There's also an added benefit of staying so close to the building itself. Since the Taj got a beauty treatment in 2002 (it was cleansed with a traditional Indian beauty wash of soil, cereal milk and lime to clear away pollution), no polluting vehicles, or even cigarettes, have been allowed within 100 metres of it, making the air just that little bit cleaner than we've become used to in India.
And so we dragged ourselves up at 5am the next morning to head to the Taj for sunrise, and before the train-loads of tourists arrive from the 4-hour Taj Express train from Delhi. The milky white, turreted building, which Rudyard Kipling once described as 'the embodiment of all things pure,' looked just like a painting; and bathed in the misty morning light, really is just as breathtaking as you imagine it to be. The Taj was built by Shan Jahan in 1631 as a memorial to his wife Mumtaz Mahal who died during the birth of her 14th child, but shortly after it's completion Shan was overthrown by his son Aurangzeb and imprisoned in Agra Fort where he remained until he died, able only to look out the window at his beloved Taj. Nice son!
Anyway, we spent a lovely reflective hour wandering around the immaculate grounds and watching the colours and shadows on the beautiful marble building change as the sun rose, meanwhile Danny made friends with an Indian university professor who kindly invited us to lunch with him and his family. It wasn't the first or the last time. We've found the Indian people to be entirely friendly and fascinated by us, and apart from the intense staring (which you come to realise has no malice in it and is just their way of expressing intrigue) it's rather nice. Everywhere we go we're greeted with smiles and waves (it's a little bit like being a celebrity, which obviously we know all about) and asked by children, old men, shy groups of mothers in sarees and internet-cafe owning couples, 'What is your country?' and 'What do you think of India?' and it usually escalates into a long chat about where we are going, where we've been, the differences between Indian and English culture, and plenty of shocked faces when we tell them we're not married!
After our quiet, meditative morning we changed into old clothes to head into Agra for anything but. Holi is the Hindu's most exuberant annual festival, when the streets are alive with pounding Hindu music and dancing, and awash with bright coloured powder dyes, thrown everywhere and at everyone who dares to venture out on the streets. During our day out we learnt the Holi etiquette: that you either bomb unsuspecting people in the street (which happened to me three times during a 30 minute cycle rickshaw journey and left me blowing pink snot out of my nose) or the more civilised option of asking if your companion would 'like to play Holi,' and then wiping rainbow colours along their forehead, nose and cheeks before hugging three times, and wishing eachother 'Happy Holi!' It's a lovely day that brings everyone together, we had hugs from old policemen to sweet school kids in the street and everyone in between... And then some drunken youth bombs you right in the eye and forces three sweaty hugs upon you. (Hindu's aren't normally permitted to drink or smoke cannabis or 'bhang' so they can get a wee bit overexcited). Still, you can't have it all!
It was while we were chatting to our friendly and dry-humoured guesthouse owner that he mentioned the Indian national news channel 'The Voice of India' would be filming on the hotel rooftop that morning (as it overlooks the Taj) and asked if we wanted to be on it. Seeing as we're already rather famous in India, we thought, why the hell not, and found ourselves an hour later on the roof in front of a film crew, being interviewed, dancing, shouting 'Happy Holi!' and throwing coloured powder at an American couple. We caught ourselves on TV later that day as one of the headlines... What can I say? A-list!
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